Charlie to the Rescue by Robert Michael Ballantyne (hardest books to read TXT) 📖

who held prevarication to be equivalent to lying, and who, besides having been in the old bachelor's service for many years, had on one occasion been plucked by him from under the feet of a pair of horses when attempting the more dangerous than nor'-west passage of a London crossing. Gratitude, therefore, rendered it probable that Mrs Bland spake truly when she said that her master was as cross as two sticks. Of course we admit that her judgment may have been faulty.

Strange to say Mr Crossley had no reason--at least no very apparent reason--for being cross, unless, indeed, the mere fact of his being an old bachelor was a sufficient reason. Perhaps it was! But in regard to everything else he had, as the saying goes, nothing to complain of. He was a prosperous East India merchant--not a miser, though a cross old bachelor, and not a millionaire, though comfortably rich. His business was prosperous, his friends were numerous, his digestion was good, his nervous system was apparently all that could be desired, and he slept well!

Standing one morning in the familiar British position before his dining-room fire in London, he frowningly contemplated his housekeeper as that indefatigable woman removed the breakfast equipage.

"Has the young man called this morning?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Well, when he comes tell him I had business in the city and could wait no--"

A ring and a sharp knock interrupted him. A few moments later Charlie Brooke was ushered into the room. It was a smallish room, for Mr Crossley, although well off, did not see the propriety of wasting money on unnecessary space or rent, and the doorway was so low that Charlie's hair brushed against the top as he entered.

"I called, Mr Crossley, in accordance with the wish expressed in your letter. Although, being a stranger, I do not--"

The young man stopped at this point and looked steadily at the old gentleman with a peculiarly questioning expression.

"You recognise me, I see," said the old man, with a very slight smile.

"Well--I may be mistaken, but you do bear some resemblance to--"

"Just so, I'm the man that you hauled so violently out of the cabin of the wreck last week, and shoved so unceremoniously into the life-buoy, and I have sent for you, first, to thank you for saving my life, because they tell me that, but for your swimming off with a rope, we should certainly have all been lost; and, secondly, to offer you aid in any course of life you may wish to adopt, for I have been informed that you are not at present engaged in any special employment."

"You are very kind, sir, very kind," returned Charlie, somewhat embarrassed. "I can scarcely claim, however, to have saved your life, though I thankfully admit having had the opportunity to lend a hand. The rocket-men, in reality, did the work, for without their splendid working of the apparatus my swimming off would have been useless."

Mr Crossley frowned while the youth was speaking, and regarded him with some suspicion.

"You admit, I suppose," he rejoined sternly, "that if you had _not_ swum off, the rocket apparatus would have been equally useless."

"By no means," returned Charlie, with that benignant smile that always accompanied his opposition in argument. "I do not admit that, because, if I had not done it, assuredly some one else would. In fact a friend of mine was on the point of making the attempt when I pulled him back and prevented him."

"And why did you prevent him?"

"Because he was not so well able to do it as I."

"Oh! I see. In other words, you have a pretty high opinion of your own powers."

"Possibly I have," returned the youth, somewhat sharply. "I lay claim to no exemption from the universal law of vanity which seems to affect the entire human race--especially the cynical part of it. At the same time, knowing from long experience that I am physically stronger, can swim better, and have greater power of endurance, though not greater courage, than my friend, it would be mere pretence were I to assume that in such matters I was his inferior. You asked me why I prevented him: I gave you the reason exactly and straightforwardly. I now repeat it."

"Don't be so ready to fire up, young man," said Crossley, with a deprecating smile. "I had no intention of hurting your feelings."

"You have not hurt them, sir," returned Charlie, with almost provoking urbanity of manner and sweetness of voice, "you have only misunderstood me."

"Well, well, let it pass. Tell me, now, can I do anything for you?"

"Nothing, thank you."

"Eh?" exclaimed the old gentleman in surprise.

"Nothing, thank you," repeated his visitor. "I did not save you for the purpose of being rewarded, and I refuse to accept reward for saving you."

For a second or two Mr Crossley regarded his visitor in silence, with a conflicting mixture of frown and smile--a sort of acidulated-drop expression on his rugged face. Then he asked--

"What is the name of this friend whom you prevented from swimming off to us?"

"Shank Leather."

"Is he a very great friend of yours?"

"Very. We have been playmates from childhood, and school-fellows till now."

"What is he?--his profession, I mean?"

"Nothing at present. That is to say, he has, like myself, been trained to no special profession, and the failure of the firm in the counting-house of which we have both served for some months has cast us adrift at the same time."

"Would it give you much satisfaction if I were to find good employment for your friend?"

"Indeed it would--the highest possible satisfaction," exclaimed Charlie, with the first symptom of enthusiasm in his tone and look.

"What can your friend Shank Leather do?" asked the old man brusquely.

"Oh! many things. He's capital at figures, thoroughly understands book-keeping, and--and is a hard-working fellow, whatever he puts his hand to."

"Is he steady?"

Charlie was silent for a few moments.

"Well, one cannot be sure," he answered, with some hesitation, "what meaning you attach to the word `steady.' I--"

"Yes, yes, I see," interrupted Crossley, consulting his watch. "No time to discuss meanings of words just now. Will you tell your friend to call on me here the day after to-morrow at six o'clock? You live in Sealford, I have been told; does he live near you?"

"Yes, within a few minutes' walk."

"Well, tell him to be punctual. Punctuality is the soul of business. Hope I won't find your friend as independent as you seem to be! You are quite sure, are you, that I can do nothing for you? I have both money and influence."

The more determined that our hero became to decline all offers of assistance from the man who had misconstrued his motives, the more of urbanity marked his manner, and it was with a smile of ineffable good-nature on his masculine features that he repeated, "Nothing, thank you--quite sure. You will have done me the greatest possible service when you help my friend. Yet--stay. You mentioned money. There is an institution in which I am much interested, and which you might appropriately remember just now."

"What is that?"

"The Lifeboat Institution."

"But it was not the Lifeboat Institution that saved _me_. It was the Rocket apparatus."

"True, but it _might_ have been a lifeboat that saved you. The rockets are in charge of the Coast-Guard and need no assistance, whereas the Lifeboat Service depends on voluntary contributions, and the fact that it did not happen to save Mr Crossley from a grave in the sea does not affect its claim to the nation's gratitude for the hundreds of lives saved by its boats every year."

"Admitted, my young friend, your reasoning is just," said the old gentleman, sitting down at a writing table and taking a cheque-book from a drawer; "what shall I put down?"

"You know your circumstances best," said Charlie, somewhat amused by the question.

"Most people in ordinary circumstances," returned the old man slowly as he wrote, "contribute a guinea to such charities."

"Many people," remarked Charlie, with a feeling of pity rather than contempt, "contribute five, or even fifteen."

"Ah, indeed--yes, well, Mr Brooke, will you condescend to be the bearer of my contribution? Fourteen Saint John Street, Adelphi, is not far from this, and it will save a penny of postage, you know!"

Mr Crossley rose and handed the cheque to his visitor, who felt half disposed--on the strength of the postage remark--to refuse it and speak his mind somewhat freely on the subject, but, his eye happening to fall on the cheque at the moment, he paused.

"You have made a mistake, I think," he said. "This is for five _hundred_ pounds."

"I make no mistakes, Mr Brooke," returned the old man sternly. "You said something about five or fifteen. I could not well manage fifteen _hundred_ just now, for it is bad times in the city at present. Indeed, according to some people, it is always bad times there, and, to say truth, some people are not far wrong--at least as regards their own experiences. Now, I must be off to business. Good-bye. Don't forget to impress on your friend the importance of punctuality."

Jacob Crossley held out his hand with an expression of affability which was for him quite marvellous.

"You're a much better man than I thought!" exclaimed Charlie, grasping the proffered hand with a fervour that caused the other to wince.

"Young sir," returned Crossley, regarding the fingers of his right hand somewhat pitifully, "people whose physique is moulded on the pattern of Samson ought to bear in mind that rheumatism is not altogether unknown to elderly men. Your opinion of me was probably erroneous to begin with, and it is certainly false to end with. Let me advise you to remember that the gift of money does not necessarily prove anything except that a man has money to give--nay, it does not always prove even that, for many people are notoriously prone to give away money that belongs to somebody else. Five hundred pounds is to some men not of much more importance than five pence is to others. Everything is relative. Good-bye."

While he was speaking Mr Crossley rang the bell and politely opened the dining-room door, so that our hero found himself in the street before he had quite recovered from his astonishment.

"Please, sir," said Mrs Bland to her master after Charlie was gone, "Cap'en Stride is awaitin' in the library."

"Send him here," said Crossley, once more consulting his watch.

"Well, Captain Stride, I've had a talk with him," he said, as an exceedingly broad, heavy, short-legged man entered, with a bald head and a general air of salt water, tar, and whiskers about him. "Sit down. Have you made up your mind to take command of the _Walrus_?"

"Well, Mr Crossley, since you're so _very_ good," said the sea-captain with a modest look, "I had feared that the loss o'--"

"Never mind the loss of the brig, Captain. It was no fault of yours that she came to grief. Other ship-owners may do as they please.