Guy and Tommy were already there, engaged in earnest conversation. The ruddy light of the binnacle lamp streamed up in the face of the latter, and revealed his curly fair hair clustering in wild disorder over his flushed brow, as, with fire gleaming in his blue eyes, he stared up in his companions face and related how that Bax, in the coolest manner possible, had kept treading water with the girl in his arms, knowing quite well that not even his strength, great though it was, could enable him to pull himself by the rope to the ship against the tide, and knowing that, in a few minutes, some one would get into the boat and pick them up.
And so some one did, and very cleverly and bravely done it was, Tommy, said Guy, laying his hand kindly on the boys shoulder.
Well, I dont think much o that, replied Tommy. It dont call for much courage to jump into a boat of a fine night, twist your legs round a thort, and hold on to a girl by claws and teeth till somebody comes to yer help.
It was all very well for Tommy to disclaim credit for what he had done; but the glad triumphant expression of his face, and his firm erect gait, proved that he was very much satisfied indeed with the share he had had in that nights adventure.
Ah, sir, continued the boy, there never was a man like Bax!
You appear to admire him very much, said Guy; and from the little that I have seen of him I think you have good reason.
Admire him! cried Tommy, with a look of scorn; no, I dont. I like him. Hes a trump!
Whos a trump? inquired Bluenose, coming up at that moment.
Bax, replied the boy, with the air of one who takes up an impregnable position, and defies the whole world in arms to overthrow him.
So he is, so he is, a reglar trump, said the Captain, an wots more, there aint no more of them there trumps in the pack, for hes the king of arts, he is. An youre a trump, too, Tommy; youre the knave of arts, you are, ye little beggar. Go and git blankets and hot coffee for that gal, and look sharp, my lad.
I have heard you speak once or twice of Bax and his exploits, said Guy Foster, when the boy left them, but this is the first time I have seen him perform. I did not see much of him when down on the coast last summer, but I saw enough to make me like him. Is he really the wonderful fellow that Tommy makes him out to be?
Wonderful? echoed the Captain, puffing his pipe vigorously, as was his wont when a little puzzled for an expression or an idea. No, he aint wonderful; thats not the word. Hes a life-preserver, thats wot he is. None o your hinflated injinrubber or cork affairs, but a reglar, hanimated, walkin, self-actin life-preserver. Why, Ive knowd him, off and on, since he was the length of a marline spike, dye seean Ive seed him save dozens, ay dozens, of livesmen, women, and children,in lifeboats, an in luggers, an swimmin. Why, he thinks no more o that wot hes done to-night, than he does of eatin salt junk. Hes got a silver medal from the Royal Life-Boat Institution, an another from the Queen of Spain, and a gold un from some other king or queen, I dont xactly know whobesides no end o thanks, written on paper, also on wot they calls wellum, in beautiful German text and small-hand;ho! you know, nobody knows wot that fellers been a-doin of all his life. If he was hung round with all the gold and silver medals he deserves to have, hed go to the bottomlife-preserver though he islike the sheet-anchor of a seventy-four, he would.
Whats that about going to the bottom? said Bax, who came aft at the moment.
Thats just wot youve got nothin to do with, replied Bluenose, resuming his pipe, which, in the ardour of his discourse, he had removed from his lips, and held out at arms length before him.
Well, I have not much to do with going to the bottom, said Bax, laughing. But wheres Tommy?oh! here you are. Have you attended to orders?
Blankits, hot, just bin sent in. Coffee, hot, follers in five minits.
Brayvo, ejaculated Bluenose, with an approving smile. I wonder who the old man is? said Guy. He neither looks like a landsman nor a seaman, but a sort of mixture of both.
So he is, said Bax. I happen to know him, though he does not know me. He is a Scripture reader to sailors (Burton by name), and has spent many years of his life at work on the coast, in the neighbourhood of Ramsgate. I suppose he was goin down the coast in the vessel out of which his daughter tumbled. I didnt know he had a daughter. By the way, shes not a bad one to begin with, Tommy; a regular beauty, continued Bax, with a smile. Youve often wondered whether the first would be a man, or a woman, or a child. The point is settled now!
Yes, replied the boy, with a grave meditative look. I suppose I may say shes my first, for you know you could not have done it without me.
There was something ludicrous, as well as sublime, in this little chip of humanity gravely talking of poor Lucy Burton being his first, as if he had just entered on a new fishing-ground, and were beginning to take account of the creatures he had the good fortune to haul out of the sea!
And in very truth, reader, this was the case. Under the training of a modest, lion-hearted British sailor, the boy was beginning to display, in unusual vigour, those daring, enthusiastic, self-sacrificing qualities which, although mingled with much that is evil, are marked characteristics of our seamen; qualities which have gone far to raise our little island to her present high position of commercial prosperity and political importance, and which, with Gods blessing, will continue to carry our flag, our merchandise, and our bibles, to the ends of the earth, and guard our shores, as in days of old, from the foot of every foreign foe. England can never fully appreciate how much she owes to her seamen. The thousands of our inland population have a very inadequate conception of the race of heroes by which our coasts are peopled. Bax is no exaggerated specimen, got up, in these sensation days, for effect. It is a glorious fact,proved by the hard and bare statistics furnished annually by the Board of Trade, and from other sources,that his name is legion, and that the men of whom he is a type swarm all round our coasts, from the old Ultima Thule to the Lands End.
Yes, Tommy was in good training. He had begun well. He was evidently a chip of the elder block. It did not, indeed, occur to his young imagination to suppose that he could ever become anything in the most distant degree resembling his idol Bax. Neither did he entertain any definite idea as to what his young heart longed after; but he had seen life saved; he had stood on the sea-shore when storms cast shattered wrecks upon the sands, and had witnessed the exploits of boatmen in their brave efforts to save human life; he had known what it was to weep when the rescuer perished with those whom he sought to save, and he had helped to swell with his tiny voice, the bursting cheer of triumph, when men, women, and children were plucked, as if by miracle, from the raging sea! To take part in those deeds of heroism was the leading desire in the boys life; and now it seemed as if his career were commencing in earnest, and the day-dreams in which he had so long indulged were at last about to become waking realities.
Chapter Four.
In which Introductions still go on, and Coming Events Cast their Shadows Before
Mrs Maria Foster,the widow of James Foster (formerly captain in the merchant service), the mother of Guy Foster (clerk in the firm of Denham, Crumps, and Company), and the promoter or supporter of every good cause,was a little woman of five-and-forty or thereabouts, with mild blue eyes, a philanthropic heart, and pale blue ribbons in her cap.
Mrs Foster may be said to have been in easy circumstances. That is to say, she had sufficient (being a thrifty and economical lady) to make the two ends meet, even to overlap somewhat, though not,as a friend of ours once observed,to tie in a handsome bow, so that she had a little to spare for charitable purposes. It must not be supposed, however, that the good lady was possessed of a small fortune. The circumstances, which were easy to her, would have proved remarkably uneasy to many; but she possessed the rare and tailorly quality of being able and willing to cut her coat according to her cloth. There was no deeper mystery than that in the ease with which we have characterised her circumstances.
The coast of Kent was her locality; the environs of the town of Deal, her neighbourhood; and a smallalmost miniature but prettycottage, her habitation. The cottage stood in the middle of a little garden, close to that wide extent of waste land, lying to the north of Deal, which is known by the name of the Sandhills, and on the seaward edge of which formerly stood the pileand now lie the remainsof Sandown Castle.
Everything in and around the cottage was remarkably neatincluding its mistress, who, on the evening of the day in which her son sailed with Bax in the Nancy, was seated at a little table in her small parlour, summing up an account on a sheet of note-paper,an operation which appeared to cause her much perplexity, if one might judge from her knitted brows, her deep sighs, and her frequent remarks of it wont do, and what can it be?
These observations were apparently addressed to the cat, which sat in front of the fire, watching the tea-kettle and the buttered toast; but although the good lady was addicted to talking to her cat, in a general way, about her love for it and its state of health, we cannot suppose that she really appealed to it on such a grave subject as arithmetical calculation. If she did she got no answer from the catnot even a sign of recognition; but she did from a bright-faced, fair-haired girl, of about eighteen, who at that moment entered the room, with a teapot in one hand, and a cream-jug in the other.
What is it that puzzles you, mamma? said the girl, setting down the pot and jug, and preparing to attend to the duties of the tea-table.
To this Mrs Foster replied, in an absent way, that she didnt know, that it was quite beyond her comprehension, and that she was utterly perplexed; but that she would find it out, if she should sit all night over it. Whereupon she proceeded to state that three and two made five, and seven mademadeshe wasnt quite sure how much that made, until her companion told her it made twelve; which piece of information she received with anOh! of course it does. Dear me, Amy, how silly I am!just as if she had known the fact all her life, and had only forgotten it at that moment, unaccountably, for the first time! Mrs Foster then went on to add a variety of other figures to this,with an occasional word of assistance from Amy,until the whole amounted to the sum of one hundred and thirty-three.
There, said Mrs Foster, with a pleased expression, as she put the figures down, now how many twelves are in thateh? let me see. Twelve times twelve are a hundred and forty,no, thats too much; twelve times elevenhow much is twelve times eleven?
Mrs Foster did not ask this of Amy; no, she gazed up at the ceiling, where an uncommonly large spider was affixing its web,with the design, no doubt, of lowering itself down to the tea-table,and demanded the solution of the problem, apparently, from that creature.
I think it is a hundred and thirty-two, mamma, said Amy, pouring out the tea.
Oh, of course, how stupid! said Mrs Foster, who was quite struck with the obviousness of the facton being told it. There now, that comes to eleven shillings and one penny, which settles the Soup Kitchen. One pound two does the Hospital for the Blind, and theres one pound due to the Sailors Home. But still, continued Mrs Foster, with a return of the perplexed expression, that does not get me out of my difficulty.
Come to tea, dear, said Amy, and we will try to clear it up together afterwards.
Impossible, child. I could not eat with appetite while this is puzzling my brain. Let me see; there were fifteen pounds, apparently, spent last year, when I put it on paper, and yet here is a sovereign over, said Mrs Foster, holding up the coin, and looking at it reproachfully, as if the blame lay with it and not with herself.
Well, mamma, said Amy, laughing, but where is your difficulty?
Dont you see, child? by rights I ought to give fifteen pounds away; well, my book tells me that fifteen pounds have been given, and yet here is a sovereign left over to give!
Then dont give it, mamma, just put it back into your purse, and that will make the thing right, wont it?
No, dear, it wont, because, you see, the money must be right, so the book must be wrong; oh! here it is. I declare I have forgot to carry one. There, thats right. Now, dear, we shall have tea.
It may be necessary to explain here, that although Amy called Mrs Foster mamma, she was in fact not related to her at all, being only an adopted daughter. Poor Amy Russell was a child of the sea.
Two years previous to the time of which we write, she, with her father and mother, had been wrecked on the coast of Kent while returning from a long residence in New Zealand. Their vessel filled the moment she struck, and the seas buried the hull so completely that passengers and crew were obliged to take to the rigging. Here they remained all night exposed to the fury of the storm. Many of the unfortunates, unable to withstand the exposure of that terrible night, fell or were washed out of the rigging and perished. Among these were Amys father and mother. Amy herself was taken care of by the captain, with whom she was a great favourite, and, along with those who remained until the morning, was saved by one of the lifeboats stationed on that coast.
They had a narrow escape from drowning even after being taken into the boat, for, just as they were approaching the entrance to the harbour, where crowds of the inhabitants of the town were anxiously watching them, a tremendous sea completely filled the boat, swept away the starboard oars, and carried several of the wrecked passengers overboard, Amy being one of them. This happened close under the head of the pier. All the passengers were recovered by the lifeboats crew in a few seconds, with the exception of Amy, who, being exhausted by previous exposure, began to sink at once. The boatmen, in the turmoil of raging water and howling wind, did not observe this, and a cry of consternation was uttered by the people on the pier, who saw the whole thing clearly from their elevated position; but the cry was either drowned by the noise of the tempest, or not understood by the boatmen.
At that moment a tall stripling on the pier raced to the edge of it, shot like a rocket head-foremost into the sea, and in a second or two reappeared with the young girl in his arms. They were both dragged into the lifeboat, amid ringing cheers of delight and admiration.