The Twa Miss Dawsons Part 25

"Yes. He sailed with us. You surely must have heard of that."

"I heard nothing of it."

"Well, that is queer?"

He hesitated and remained silent, as he might not have done if he had seen the agony of the father's face. Jean had stretched out her hand and touched him. She was trying to say something, but her lips uttered no sound.

"My son! my son! Oh, dinna tell me that he didna come home?"

It was an exceeding bitter cry.

"He didna come home--"

"Oh, Willie, tell him?" cried an eager voice, and his sister sprang forward and a hand was laid on the old man's arm. "He hasna come home, but he's safe and well and he is coming home. And he is--good now. He was ay good, but now he is sorry, and he's coming home. And--Oh, sir, I beg your pardon--" added Marion, coming to herself, and she would have darted away again, but Jean held her fast.

Willie's heart softened as he met the old man's look.

"George was one of the two that went with Saugster. There is no better sailor than Tam, as ye ken; but he's open to the temptation o' strong drink. If there is any one that can keep Tam straight, it's George. I dare say they are in port by this time."

"Willie," said Miss Jean, "tell us how it happened that he sailed with you. Surely you should have told us before you let him go?"

"I did my best, Miss Jean. He came on board that last morning with some of the men who had been making a night of it on sh.o.r.e, but I did not know it till we were nearly ready to set sail. I did my best to persuade him to stay at home. I sent three different messages to his father, but he couldna be found; and I wrote a line to--"

Mr Dawson groaned.

"I had heard that he had been seen in the town, in company with Niel Cochrane of the How. I went there to seek him, and the s.h.i.+p had sailed before I came back again."

"It was to be," said the sailor. "And though I was sorry at the time, I was glad afterwards, and ye'll be glad too, sir. It has done him no ill, but good. He has gathered himself up again. He is a man now--a man among a thousand. And ye havena read your letter."

A curious change had come over the young man's manner, though there was no one calm enough to notice it but Mr Manners. He had for the greater part of the time not been looking at Mr Dawson, but over his head, or at any one else rather than the master of the house when he spoke. But now he sat down near him, his voice softening wonderfully, and his face looking like the one that was leaning on Miss Dawson's shoulder on the other side of the old man's chair.

It was a very handsome face, but for that Mr Manners would have cared little. It was a n.o.ble face, strong and true; a face to trust, "a face to love," said he to himself. He had heard of Willie Calderwood before, as he had by this time heard of the most of May's friends, and he had gathered more from the story than May had meant to tell. And now he noticed that the handsome face had hardly turned towards Jean, and that Jean had not spoken since he came into the room.

Mr Dawson opened his letter with fingers that trembled. There was only a line or two, and when he had read it, he laid it on the table, and laid his face down upon it without a word; and when he lifted it again there were tears upon it.

"Oh, Willie, man! if ye had brought him home! There is nothing of mine but ye might have had for the asking, if ye had but brought him home!"

The young man rose and walked up and down the room once or twice, and then sat down again, saying gently,--

"I had no right to prevent his going. He was in his lather's s.h.i.+p of his own will, and though he submitted to command through all the voyage, that was of his own will too. And I am no' sure that I would have kept him, even if I could have done it. It was to save life that he went.

Danger? Well, it turned out that there was really less danger than was supposed when he offered to go. I went on board with him and we overhauled the s.h.i.+p and did what was needed to make all safe. As to its being his duty--he had no doubts o' that. It was to save life."

"Dinna go yet, Willie, man," said Mr Dawson, putting out his hand as the mate rose. "We are a' friends here. This is Hugh Corbett, his father was your father's friend. And this is Mr Manners who has come seeking our May. It is no secret now, my la.s.sie."

The two shook hands heartily--each "kenning a man when he saw him." And then the sailor offered his hand to May. And if Jean had had any doubts remaining as to the nature of the mutual interest of these two they were set at rest now. May blushed, but met his look frankly, and for the first time since he came Willie smiled brightly--a smile that "minded"

Jean of the days before trouble of any kind had fallen upon them.

The rest of the story might have kept till another day, as Willie said, but he yielded to entreaty and sat down again. He had nothing to tell of George's story before he found him on board s.h.i.+p. He had come home meaning to see his father, but had fallen into bad hands, and, discouraged and ashamed, had changed his mind, not caring whether he lived or died. If he had not been allowed to go in the "John Seaton,"

there were other vessels leaving Portie in which he could have sailed.

"I could only have kept him at home by using force, or by betraying him, as he called it. I thought he was better at sea with a friend than on sh.o.r.e with those who did him no good--for home he would not go. So I risked the captain's anger and said nothing. But I never supposed but you would hear about his sailing, as there must have been more than one who knew it."

No one made any reply to this. Captain Horne, a good and just, but stern man, was sorely displeased when he found that his owner's son had sailed secretly with them; and he showed his displeasure by ignoring his presence on board after the very first, and leaving him to suffer all the hards.h.i.+ps of the lot he had chosen. George accepted the situation, asked no favours, and s.h.i.+rked no duty, but lived in the forecastle, and fared as the rest fared there.

After a time he grew strong and cheerful and did his part for the general entertainment, chatting and chaffing--singing songs and spinning yarns, and winning the good-will of every man and boy on board. Nor did he lose his time altogether, as far as self-improvement was concerned.

He read every book on board, and at leisure times gave himself to the reading of mathematics and the study of navigation with his friend, and had done it to some purpose, his friend declared.

They reached the Arctic seas in good time, and had there met with more than the usual success, so that they had good hope of getting home to Portie before the year was over. But after that heavy storms had overtaken them, and they had driven before the wind many days and nights without a glimpse of sun or star, and so had drifted far out of their course. They had taken shelter at last in an unknown bay and had lain ice bound for many months.

Here sore sickness fell on Captain Horne, against which--being a man strong and brave and patient--he struggled long, only to yield at last, and take to his berth helpless, and for a time, hopeless. A good man, a true Christian--("ane o' your kind, Miss Jean," said the sailor),--he had yet fallen into utter despondency, out of which, strangely enough, the foolish lad who had wandered so far from home, and from the right way, had helped him.

When he came to this part of the story, the mate rose and took two or three turns up and down the room again; then he came and stood beside Miss Jean's chair, saying softly,--

"Sometime, Miss Jean, when Geordie comes home, ye must ask him about it.

I could never tell you all he was to the sick man in those days. No son ever served a father more faithfully. No mother ever nursed, cared for, and comforted a sick child with more entire forgetfulness of self.

Whiles he read to him out of the Bible, and out of other books, and whiles he talked to him and told him things that he had heard--from his mother, I dare say, and from you, Miss Jean, and whiles--once at least in my hearing--he prayed with him, because in the darkness that had fallen on him the old man couldna pray for himself I mind that night well."

There was a long pause after this, and then he went on; "Geordie will tell you all about it better than I could do. A good while before the end, light came back to the captain--and, oh! the brightness of it! and the peace that fell on him! The good book says 'It is more blessed to give than to receive,' and that was the way with Geordie. For as much good as came to our captain through him, there came more to himself; and it came to him first.

"You are one of those, Miss Jean, who believe in a change of nature,-- coming from darkness to light--from 'the power of Satan onto G.o.d.'

Well, I would have said that Geordie needed that change less than most folk, but it was like that with him. Even I, who saw few faults in him before, could see the difference afterward. But it canna be spoken about, and it is more than time that I were away."

However he sat down again for a moment on the other side of the table where he had been sitting before, and went on to tell, how after a few bright days, the captain died, and they buried him in the sea.

At last they got away from the ice, and were beginning to count the days, before they might hope to see the harbour of Portie, when they fell in with the s.h.i.+p in distress, and this ended in Tam Saugster being sent to take her to her port, and in George going also, to help Tam to withstand his foe. For the "John Seaton" was a temperance s.h.i.+p, and Tam had tasted nothing stronger than tea or coffee since he lost sight of Portie harbour.

"He had sailed with us, just to give himself another chance, he said, and, poor lad, he had gone far the wrong gait--and he was another man; a fine fellow truly, when he was out of the way of temptation. And whiles I have thought it was for Tam's sake, more even than for the sake of the Yankee s.h.i.+p and its crew, that George was so fain to go. It cost him much no' to come home with us, for he had come to a clearer sight of-- two or three things,--he told me. But I think he made a sort of thank-offering of himself for the time, and even if I could have hindered him, I could hardly have found it in my heart to do it. And he is sure to come soon."

"He is in safe keeping," said Miss Jean.

"Yes, he is that, and we may hear from him any day." There was not much more said. Mr Manners had some questions, and so had Miss Jean, and May asked if her brother had changed much as to looks; and Mr Dawson looked from one to the other as each spoke, but he did not say another word, nor did Jean till Willie rose to go. "Now, Marion, it is late and we must make haste." Then Jean said softly--it was the first word she had uttered since he came into the house--

"No, Marion. It is too late to go. Willie will tell your mother that you are going to bide with me to-night."

Of course that was the wisest thing for the girl to do, as Mrs Calderwood might remain all night with poor Mrs Horne, and it was necessary that her brother should go back to the s.h.i.+p. And so the mate went away alone.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

HOME COMING.

That night Mr Dawson and Miss Jean sat long together, when the others had gone away, and for the most part they sat in silence. Mr Dawson had some thoughts which he would not have liked to tell his sister,-- thoughts which he knew she would call wrong and thankless--which he would gladly have put away.

The good things of this life, the glad surprises, the unhoped for reprieves from sorrow, rarely come without some drawback of regret or pain. That he should have got tidings of his son; that he should be coming home, and glad to come; that he should be well and worthy, a man to honour and to trust,--how utterly beyond his hopes had this been yesterday!

His son was coming home; but, alas! he could never have his light-hearted, bonny laddie back again. George was a man now, "knowing good and evil." It could never be again between them as it had been before their trouble came.

"Ane o' your kind, Miss Jean," the mate had said; "a changed man."