The Battery and the Boiler: Adventures in Laying of Submarine Electric Cables by - (world best books to read txt) đ
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âWell, well, show me his room,â said Slagg, with as much decision in his tone as compelled immediate obedience.
In the corner of a small room, on a truckle-bed, with scant bedding, lay the emaciated form of John Shanks, alias Stumps, alias James Gibson. He had raised himself on one elbow, and was gazing with great lustrous invalid eyes at the door, when his old comrade entered, for he had been watching, and heard the first sound of footsteps in the passage.
âOh! Jim Slagg,â he cried, extending a hand which bore strong resemblance to a claw, it was so thin. âCome to me, Jim, How Iâve wished anâ longed, anâââ
He stopped and burst into tears, for he was very weak, poor fellow, and even strong men weep when their strength is brought low.
âCome now, Stumps,â said Slagg, in a serious voice, as he sat down on the bed, put an arm round his old comradeâs thin shoulders, and made him lie down, âif you go to excite yourself like that, IâllâIâllâquit the room, anâ I wonât come back for an hour or more.â
âNo! O no!â exclaimed the sick man; clutching Slaggâs arm with a trembling grip, âdonât leave me, Jimâdonât, donât! I shall die if you do! Iâm dyinâ anyhow, but it will kill me quicker if you go.â
âWell, I wonât go. There, keep quiet, my poor old Stumps.â
âYes, thatâs itâthatâs itâI like to hear the old name,â murmured the sick man, closing his eyes. âSay it again, Jimâsay it again.â
âStumps,â said Slagg, getting down on his knees, the better to arrange and grasp his former comrade, âdonât be a fool now, but listen. I have come to look after you, so make your mind easy.â
âBut Iâve been such a beast to you, Jim; it was so awful shabby,â cried Stumps, rousing himself again, âand Iâve been so sorry ever since. You canât think how sorry. I have repented, Jim, if ever a man did. Anâ Iâd have come back and confessed long ago, if Iâd had the chance, but I can get no restâno peace. Iâve never spent a rap of it, Jim, except what I couldnât helpâfor you know, Jim, body anâ soul wouldnât stick together without a little oâ suthinâ to eat anâ drink; anâ when I was ill I couldnât work, you know. See, itâs all hereâall hereâexcept what littleââ
He stopped abruptly, having raised himself to open the lid of the box at his elbow, but his strength failed, and he sank on the pillow with a groan.
âStumps,â said Slagg, âcome, old boy, you anâ me will have a bit of prayer together.â
The sick man opened his great eyes in astonishment. It was so unlike his old friendâs brusque rollicking character to propose prayer, that he fancied he must be dreaming, and the possibility of the visit turning out unreal, induced an expression of distress on his haggard countenance. On being ordered, however, in the peremptory and familiar tones of former days, to shut his eyes, he felt reassured and became calm, while his friend prayed for him.
It was not a set or formal prayer by any means. It sounded strangely like a man asking a friend, in commonplace terms, but very earnestly, to give him what he stood in great need of; and what Jim asked for was the salvation of his friendâs soul and his restoration to health. The petition, therefore, was remarkably brief, yet full of reverence, for Jim, though naturally blunt and straightforward, felt that he was addressing the great and blessed God and Saviour, who had so recently rescued his own soul.
After saying âAmen!â which the sick man echoed, Slagg pulled out his Bible and read through the fourteenth chapter of Johnâs gospel, commenting quietly as he went along, while his comrade listened with intense earnestness. At the first verse Jim paused and said, âThis wasnât written to holy and sinless men. âLet not your heart be troubled,â was said to the disciples, one oâ them beinâ Peter, the man who was to deny Jesus three times with oaths and curses, and then forsake Him. The Lord came to save sinners. It would be a poor look-out for you, Stumps, if you thought yourself a good man.â
âBut I donâtâoh! I donât, and you know I donât!â exclaimed the sick man vehemently.
âThen the Lord says, âLet not your heart be troubled,â and tells you to believe in God and Himself.â
At the second verse Slagg remarked that it would be a sad, sad thing if the mansion prepared, among the many mansions, for his friend were to be left empty.
âBut how am I to get to it, Jim; how am I ever to find the way?â
âJust what the disciple named Thomas askedâanâ he was a very doubting follower of Jesus, like too many of us. The Master said to him what He says to you and me, âI am the way and the truth and the life; no one cometh unto the Father but by me.ââ
At the ninth verse the sailor-missionary said, âJesus is God, you see, so weâre safe to trust Him,â and, at the thirteenth verse, âWhatsoever ye shall ask in my name that will I do,â he said. âNow, we have asked Jesus to save you, and He will do it, by His Holy Spirit, as He has saved meâhas saved millions in time past, and will save millions more in time to come. Why, you see, in the sixteenth verse He tells you He will pray the Father to send you a Comforter, who will stay with you for ever. Has He not reason then for beginninâ with âlet not your heart be troubledâ? And that same Comforter, the Holy Spirit, is to âteach us all things,â so, you see, every difficulty is taken out of our way. âArise, let us go hence.â Now, my old messmate, I have arisen. Will you not arise and go with me, both of us looking unto Jesus?â
âI willâGod helping me!â cried the sick man, literally arising from his couch and raising both arms to heaven.
âThere, nowâthank the Lord; but you must lie down again and keep quiet,â said Jim, gently and kindly forcing his friend backward.
Stumps did not resist. He closed his eyes, and the restful feeling that had suddenly arisen in his heart when he said the momentous words, âI will,â coupled with exhaustion, resulted almost instantaneously in a quiet slumber.
âWhen did he eat last?â asked Slagg of the old woman, in a low voice, for he had been taught, or had learned intuitively, that few things are more disheartening in a sick-room than a whisper.
âThis morning he breakfasted at six, but it was onây a hapâorth oâ bread and a drink oâ cold water.â
âAnd how dare you starve your lodger in that way?â demanded Slagg, leading the astonished woman into the passage and closing the door. âDonât you know that starving a man is equal to murdering him, and that youâll be liable to be hung if he dies? There, take this half-sov, and be off to the nearest shop, anâ buyâlet me seeâsassengers and steaks andâoh, you know better than me what a sick man wants. Get along with you, and be back sharp. Stay! where are your matches? Ah! Any coals? Good, now away with you and fetch a doctor too, else Iâll fetch a policeman, you bolster of bones.â
Thus ordered, threatened, and adjured, the landlady, half-amused, and more than half-frightened at the visitorâs gushing energy, hurried from the house, while Slagg returned to the miserable room, and did his best to render it less miserable by kindling a splendid fire.
It is, perhaps, unnecessary to add, that a breakfast soon filled that room with delicious odour, such as had not been felt in that lowly neighbourhood for many years; that Stumps, after a refreshing sleep, partook of the feast with relish; that Jim Slagg also partook of itâof most of it, indeedâand enjoyed it to the full; that the old landlady was invited to âfall to,â and did fall to with alacrity; that the domestic cat also managed to fall to, surreptitiously, without invitation, and not the less enjoyably on that account; that a miserable semi-featherless but unconquerable canary in a cage in the window took care that it was not forgotten; and that several street boys, smelling the viands from afar, came round the outer door, became clamorous, and were not sent empty away.
It may, however, be advisable to add, that Stumps did not die; that joy of heart, good feeding, andâperhapsâthe doctor, brought him round, and that he afterwards went to the country to spend the period of convalescence in the cottage by the roadside, with Slaggâs mother.
Now, it is not in the nature of things that man, in his present state, should attain to full satisfaction. He may, indeed he should, attain to contentment, but as long as there are higher and better things within his reach, he must of necessity remain in some degree unsatisfied.
Some such idea must have been passing through Robin Wrightâs brain one fine morning, as he slowly paced the deck of a small schooner with his friend Sam Shipton, for he suddenly broke a prolonged silence with the following remark:â
âI donât know how it is, Sam, but although I am surrounded with everything that should make a fellow happy, IâmâIâm not happy. In fact, Iâm as miserable as it is possible to be!â
âCome now, Robin, donât exaggerate,â said Sam in a remonstrative tone. âHyperbole is very objectionable, especially in young men. You know that if you were tied to a huge gridiron over a slow fire, you would be more miserable than you are at present.â
Robin smiled and admitted the truth of this, but nevertheless reiterated his assertion that he was decidedly unhappy.
This conversation, we may remark, took place on board of Sam Shiptonâs yacht, off the west coast of Scotland, several years after the events narrated in the previous chapter.
âWell, now, it is strange,â said Sam, with an earnestly sympathetic air and tone of voice, but with the faintest possible twinkle in the extreme corner of one of his eyes. âLet me seeâeverything, as you justly remark, ought to make you happy here. The weather, to begin withâpeople always begin with the weather, you knowâis splendid, though there is a thundery look about the horizon to the westâard. Then our yacht, the Gleam, is a perfect duck, both as to her sea-going and sailing qualities, and Captain James Slagg is a perfect seaman, while Stumps is a superlative steward and cook. Our time is our own, and the world before us where to choose. Then, as to our companionship, what female society could be more agreeable than that of my wife Madge, and her bosom friend Letta, who, since she has grown up, has become one of the most beautiful, fascinating, charming,âbut why go on, when, in the language of the poet, âadequate words is wantinâ!â And Lettaâs mother is second only to herself. Then as to the men, could there be found anywhere finer fellows than uncle Rik and Ebenezer Smith, and Frank Hedleyâto say nothing of myself and our splendid little boy Sammy? I canât understand it, Robin. Youâre not ill, are you?â
âIll? no. Never was better in my life.â
âWell, then, what is it? Be confidential, my boy. The witching hour of sunrise is fitted for confidential communications. Youâre not in love, areââ
âHush, Sam! the skylight is open. Come forward to the bows. Yes, Sam, I am in love.â
âWell, Robin, I canât pretend ignorance, for I
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