Ned Garth Part 2

That black fellow has as big a heart as any white man. He does not, however, forget his wife and child, for since he became a Christian, his great desire is that they should be brought to a knowledge of the truth.

If it were possible, I would help him to get back to his native village, but to do so is beyond my means. Indeed, from what I hear I fear that the Arabs have long ere this carried them off into captivity, or that, deprived of their protector, they have died of hunger or been killed by their cruel persecutors. Those Arabs have long been the curse of that part of Africa--indeed, for the purpose of obtaining slaves, they have devastated many of its most fertile districts."

His guest listened with evident interest to the account given by the lieutenant.

"I have not hitherto turned my attention in that direction," observed the former. "Of course I have heard much of the slave trade on the western coast and of the horrors of the middle pa.s.sage, but I believed that it is now carried on only in a very limited degree, and that the inhabitants of the east coast are well able to take care of themselves."

"I have cruised on both coasts, and am convinced that the people on the east part of Africa are subjected to cruelties fully equal to those which the western tribes have for so many ages endured," answered the lieutenant. "Tom's experience is that of thousands; but he did not describe the miseries suffered by those left behind, the despair of the women and children, and of the men who may have escaped from the sudden attack made on their village, to find it when they have returned burned to the ground, their fields laid waste, and their cattle carried off.

No one can calculate the numbers who have died from hunger in a land teeming with abundance."

Ned and Mary came in during the latter part of the conversation, to which they paid the greatest attention.

"I wish I could help to put a stop to such horrible doings," exclaimed Ned. "I should like to see an English fleet employed in catching all the dhows, and an army sent to march through the country to turn all the Arabs out of it. It would be an honour to serve even as a drummer-boy on sh.o.r.e, or as a powder-monkey on board one of the s.h.i.+ps."

Their guest smiled at Ned's enthusiasm.

"A more certain way may be found for benefiting the Africans than by armies or fleets," observed Miss Sarah; "if a band of faithful missionaries of the Gospel were scattered through the country, they would, with G.o.d's blessing, carry Christianity and civilisation to the long benighted and cruelly treated people."

"You speak the truth, madam, the matter is worthy of consideration,"

observed the guest, turning to Miss Sarah. "I have learned several things since I came into your house. I wish that I could remain longer to learn more, but I am compelled to go up to London; and as I feel myself sufficiently strong to travel, I must, early to-morrow morning, wish you farewell."

CHAPTER THREE.

The s.h.i.+pwrecked stranger had taken his departure; he had paid the doctor, and sent a present to the coast-guard men who had a.s.sisted to carry him to the house; but he had not offered to remunerate the lieutenant or Tom for the service they had rendered him, though he feelingly expressed his grat.i.tude to them. Perhaps he considered, and he was not wrong in so doing, that they not only did not require a reward for performing an act of humanity, but would have felt hurt had it been offered them.

The next morning the lieutenant and Ned started on a walk along the cliffs to inquire at Longview station about the coast-guard man who had nearly been killed on the night of the wreck. The sky was clear, the blue ocean slumbered below their feet, the gentle ripples which played over it sparkling in the bright rays of the sun. A large vessel, with a wide spread of canvas, was gliding majestically by on her way down channel. Ned gazed at her with a wistful eye.

"I wish that I were on board that fine craft," he said at length. "I am very happy at home, and I don't want to leave you and Aunt Sally and Mary, but I feel that I ought to be doing something for myself. You and my father went to sea before you were as old as I am. I don't like to be idle and a burden to you. If you did not disapprove of it, I would go before the mast and work my way up--many have done so who are now masters in the merchant service; though, as you know, I would rather go into the navy, but from what you tell me that is out of the question.

The owners of your old s.h.i.+p would, I dare say, take me as an apprentice; I'll try and do my duty, and learn to be a sailor so as to become an officer as soon as possible."

"You look far ahead; but it is all right, my boy, and I am very sure of one thing, that you will do your duty and reap the reward, whatever happens. I'll write to Clew, Earring and Grummet, and ask them if they have a vacancy for you. Jack Clew, who was once in the navy, was a messmate of mine on board the old 'Thunderer' when I lost my leg at 'Navarin'," (so the lieutenant always p.r.o.nounced Navarino, the action fought by the British fleet under Sir Edward Codrington with that of the Turks and Egyptians). "Jack used to profess a willingness to serve me, but, Ned, we must not trust too much to old friends. Times alter, and he may find he has applicants nearer at hand whose relatives have longer purses than I have. Don't fear, however, my boy, something may turn up, as it always does, if we seek diligently to get it and wait with patience."

Ned did not then press the matter further; his spirits were buoyant, and although his uncle's remarks were not calculated to raise them, he was not disheartened.

Edward Garth, the lieutenant's nephew, was the son of a younger sister, who had married a friend and messmate, a lieutenant in the same n.o.ble service in which he had spent his best days. They had served together in several s.h.i.+ps up to the time that Garth was stricken down with fever up an African river, their s.h.i.+p then forming one of the blockading squadron on the west coast, when he committed his infant boy to his brother-in-law's care. "I am sure that you will look after him for our poor f.a.n.n.y's sake; but she is delicate, and I know not what effect my death will have on her. At all events, he will be fatherless, and she, poor girl, will find it a hard matter to manage a spirited lad."

"Do not let that thought trouble you, Ned," answered Lieutenant Pack; "f.a.n.n.y's child shall ever be as if he were my own son. I promised to keep house with Sally, and f.a.n.n.y shall come and live with us. A better soul than Sally does not exist, though I, who am her brother, say so."

Soon after he had seen his brother-in-law laid in the grave, Lieutenant Pack came home to find that his sister f.a.n.n.y had followed her husband to the other world, and that Sally had already taken charge of their young nephew.

From that day forward she truly became a mother to the orphan, and as the lieutenant proved a kind, though not over indulgent father, Ned never felt the loss of his parents, and grew up all that his uncle and aunt could desire, rewarding them for their watchful care and judicious management of him. The lieutenant's means would not allow him to bestow an expensive education on his nephew, but he was enabled to send him to a neighbouring grammar school, where the boy, diligently taking advantage of such instruction as it afforded, soon reached the head of each cla.s.s in which he was placed. Though first in all manly exercises, he made good use of his books at home, his uncle giving him lessons in mathematics and navigation, so that he was as well prepared for the profession he desired to enter as any boy of his age. Ned was a favourite with all who knew him. His home training had answered, for, though kind, it had been judicious. He was truthful and honest, and sincerely, desirous of doing his duty, while he was manly and good-tempered, ever ready to forgive an injury, though well capable of standing up for himself. Had the "Worcester" training-s.h.i.+p then been established, and had Ned gone on board her, he would probably have become a gold medallist, and that is saying much in his favour. His uncle delighted in his society--"Ned always made him feel young again,"

he used to say--and Aunt Sally bestowed upon him the affection of her kind and gentle heart. As to Mary, she thought there never had been, never could be, a boy equal to brother Ned, for so she always called him, ever looking on him as her brother. Ned faithfully returned the affectionate feelings evinced towards him by his relatives.

The one-legged lieutenant and his nephew continued their walk, the former stopping every now and then to impress a remark on Ned, or glancing over the ocean to observe the progress made by the outward-bound s.h.i.+p, until the row of whitewashed cottages, surmounted by a signal staff, which formed the coast-guard station of Longview, hove in sight. Lieutenant Hanson, who met them at a short distance from it, shook Ned and his uncle cordially by the band.

"We came to learn how poor Herron is getting on," said the lieutenant.

"He'll weather it, I hope; but it was a wonder he was not killed from his fall down the cliff, sixty feet, with exposure to the rain and wind during the whole of the night, for we did not find him until the morning," answered the coast-guard officer. "The accident was even of more consequence to others than to himself, for had it not occurred, we might have been in time to save some more of the poor fellows from the wreck."

"That may be so; but had you come, my black man Tom Baraka and Ned here would have lost the opportunity of showing what they are made of, by pulling one of them out of the water," said Lieutenant Pack.

"What! had you a hand in saving the pa.s.senger?" asked Lieutenant Hanson, turning to Ned.

"Indeed he had, and had it not been for his courage I believe that the man would have been washed away again, for Tom was pretty well exhausted by that time," answered Lieutenant Pack.

"You have begun well," said Mr Hanson, casting an approving look at Ned.

"He has set his heart on going to sea, though I fear there is but little chance of his getting into the navy," observed Lieutenant Pack.

"If he does, I hope that he may be more fortunate than some of his elders," answered the coast-guard lieutenant in a tone not very encouraging.

The remark produced a momentary effect on Ned, but he soon forgot it, and was as eager as before to become a sailor.

They proceeded on to the station, where, after visiting the injured man, for whom the old lieutenant had brought some delicacies made by Miss Sarah, he and his nephew set off to return home by a circuitous road, which ran a good way inland. They had got some way, when they caught sight of Miss Sarah and Mary in the distance.

"Go, Ned, and see where those women-kind of ours are bound for,"

exclaimed the lieutenant. Ned ran forward.

"We are going to visit Silas Shank the miser, as the people call him, though he must be very poor and miserable, as I cannot suppose that he would nearly starve himself if he had the means of buying proper food,"

answered Mary.

"If I may, I will go with you," said Ned; "perhaps Uncle Pack would like to come also."

The lieutenant, for whom they waited, however, preferred going home, and Miss Sally, giving her basket to Ned, returned with him, allowing her nephew to accompany Mary.

"Just leave the pudding and jelly with the old man, and if he does not appear inclined to talk do not stop," said Miss Sally.

Ned and Mary walked on, cheerfully conversing, as they were wont to do, for they had always plenty to say to each other, and Mary's tongue wagged as fast as that of any young lady of her age, though not so thoughtlessly as that of many. Ned naturally spoke of the s.h.i.+p he had seen running down channel. "I do not wish to be away from you all, but yet I did wish to be on board her, sailing to distant lands, to go among strange people, and to feel that I was doing something and learning to be an officer. It would be a fine thing to command a s.h.i.+p like that."

"I wish as you wish; but, O Ned, you would be a long, long time absent from us--months and months, or perhaps years and years. Uncle Pack says that he was once five years without setting foot on English ground, and you might be as long away. We shouldn't know you when you came back; you will be grown into a big man, with a bronzed face and bushy whiskers." Mary laughed, though the tears at the same time came into her eyes.

"But that was in the war-time, Mary, and even the Queen's s.h.i.+ps are not now kept out for so long a period, while merchant vessels return every year, and sometimes from short voyages much oftener. And then think of all the curiosities I should bring home; I should delight in collecting them for you and Aunt Sally, or to add to Uncle Pack's museum."

"Yes, yes, it would be a very joyous time when you did come back, we should be delighted to see all the things you brought; but then think how slowly the days will pa.s.s by when you are away, uncle and aunt and I all alone."

"There would be only one less," said Ned, naturally.

"Yes, I know," answered Mary--she stopped short--she did not say how large a s.p.a.ce Ned occupied in her world. She was not aware of it herself just then.

The subject was one which made her feel sadder than was her wont, and she was glad to change it.

Old Shank's cottage was soon reached. It stood about half a mile from the village. It was situated in a hollow, an old quarry, by the side of a hill, the bare downs rising beyond it without a tree near. A desolate-looking place in its best days. Though containing several rooms--a large part of the roof having fallen in--it had only one which was habitable. In that lived Silas Shank the reputed miser. The palings which fenced it in had been broken down to be used as firewood.

The gate was off its hinges; nettles and other hardy weeds had taken possession of the garden. Scarcely a pane of gla.s.s remained in any of the windows; even those of the rooms occupied by the miser were stuffed with rags, or had pieces of brown paper pasted over them.

"I'll stay outside while you go in," said Ned; "the old man was very surly when I last saw him, and I do not wish to face him again. He can't be rough to you."