*CHAPTER IV.*
*FURTHER NEWS OF THE "MORNING STAR."*
On the following Monday morning Dick called for his chum as usual, butJim was in no hurry to start.
"You go on," said he; "I'll come presently."
As a matter of fact he dreaded the meeting with his school-fellows; itwould be so different from the scene he had pictured while walking homefrom the cricket-ground. He had looked forward to a regular triumph,for it must be confessed that Jim was rather vain, though he had thegood sense to keep this failing, for the most part, to himself.
"All right!" exclaimed the Angel cheerfully; but he went only a shortdistance, and waited till his chum came out.
"What a silly chap you are!" said Jim peevishly; "now you'll be late."
"Never mind, my boy; better late than never, as they say in thecopy-books. I said that to Laythorne the other day, but he gave me oneback. 'Better never late,' said he, as I went to my place."
Prayers were over when they reached the school, but the master made noremark as they passed to their places. He had heard the sad news, andeasily understood why the boys were late. At the interval he asked Jimto remain, and told him how sorry he was for his great loss.
"Thank you, sir," said Jim, resolutely keeping the tears from his eyes.
"And, by the way, Hartland," continued the young master kindly, "ifthere's anything I can do, let me know."
Just then the Head entered the room, and he, too, expressed his sorrowat what had happened, and Jim appreciated the kindness of his masters.
He had dreaded going back to school, but it was not very dreadful afterall. Most of the boys looked at him curiously, but only one or two saidanything, and then matters resumed their usual course.
At home it was much worse, although Susie, with strange persistence,still cherished the hope that her father had not been drowned.
"We don't know," she argued stoutly--"no one knows. The papers say someof the crew got ashore."
"Don't be stupid," said her brother. "It says plainly enough thatfather went down with the ship."
"But he might have been picked up afterwards, or got ashore somewhereelse."
Even Susie's faith gave way, however, when a fuller account of the wreckcame to hand. It was supplied by an A.B. named Davies, who had beenpicked up by the steamship _Cormorant_.
"It was on a Friday night," the newspaper report of his narrative ran,"and we were there or thereabout up to the latitude of Cape Horn. I hadturned in 'all standing,' for the weather was squally, and I didn'texpect to get much of a nap. Sure enough I'd hardly got my eyes shutwhen there came a crash, and some one sang out, 'All hands, ahoy!' Wetumbled up the ladder in a hurry, and I tell you there wasn't a manthere who didn't think Davy Jones was calling us. It was a night! Therain was coming down full pelt, and you couldn't keep your feet for thewind. Spars snapped like match-boxes, and the barque lay nearly on herbeam-ends. It was dark as pitch just then, though it cleared upafterwards. We did what we could to save the ship; but, bless you, wehad no more chance than a parcel of babies. She was settling down likea stone, and the old man sung out that we'd better try the boats. I ranto help clear the port quarter boat, and got in, when a heavy sea brokeover her, smashing her in two. Down I went a long way, but at last cameup to the surface again, and hammered my right hand against somethinghard. This turned out to be a top-gallant mast, so I took a firm grip.I couldn't see anything of the _Morning Star_, but there seemed to be alot of rigging about, and I heard some men shouting in the distance. Ireckoned afterwards it must have been the first mate and the chaps whogot away in the other boat. I hulloed back, but they couldn't hear, andI reckoned I was done. Soon after that came another shout close to me,and I yelled back, 'Ahoy, there! Is that you, Mr. Hartland?'
"'Yes. Who are you?'
"'Davies,' I sings out--'on a mast.'
"'Can you hold on?'
"'Not much longer, I'm afeared.'
"'Keep your spirits up,' says he, cheery like, and then it was allquiet. However, we must have drifted pretty close together, for,directly day broke, there he was, not twenty yards off, with a lifebuoyround him, and clinging to a light spar.
"'How goes it now?' says he; and when I tells him I'm nearly done, hesays, 'I've a good mind to keep you company. I've some rope here, and adraw or two round the body will keep you tight.' With that he swimsover and lashes me to the mast. Presently he says again, quiet asanything, 'Look here, Davies; it's no go! This won't hold us both; Imust take my chance. Good-bye, and if you've the luck to be picked up,just let 'em know over in England that I stood by the ship till she wentdown.'
"Them were his last words. He let go, and the last I saw of him he wasstriking out towards the shore. Of course he never reached it, thoughhe was a strong swimmer, too. After that I lost count of things, anddon't know anything more till my eyes opened aboard the _Cormorant_.The lashings saved me, or I should have gone under as sure as fate."
The story of her husband's bravery filled Mrs. Hartland with honestpride; but, unfortunately it extinguished the last spark of hope that,almost unknown, had lurked in the recesses of her mind. However, shefaced the matter bravely, and talked over her plans with Jim.
"We shall have to leave this house," she said, "and find a cheaper one.Then I must get some kind of work to do."
"What about Susie?" asked Jim.
"Ah, that's the trouble! I can't very well go out and leave her alone.Perhaps I can get some plain sewing."
"Haven't we any money at all, mother?" the boy asked presently.
"Only what is due from your father's wages, and that won't keep uslong."
Susie had gone to bed, and there was no one in the room but mother andson. Mrs. Hartland sat by the window with some needlework in her hand,though it was too dark to sew; Jim stood by the mantelpiece, fumblingnervously with a button on his jacket.
Presently he said bravely, "I must leave school and get a placesomewhere. I daresay I can earn something, if only a little."
It cost him an effort to say this without breaking down, for he was veryambitious, and had mapped out a great career for himself. In the firstplace he had made up his mind to win the Gayton Scholarship, which wasto be a stepping-stone to fortune. This was all done with now, for evenin the event of being successful he could not accept the scholarship.
Mrs. Hartland guessed a part of his thoughts, and, calling him to herside, said,--
"We'll talk about that another time, Jim. There's no need to give upyour school at present; I wouldn't like you to do that. I daresay weshall be able to rub along somehow till the next examination."
"But there's no good in trying for the 'Gayton.'"
"Not for yourself, but it would be an honour for your school if you wonit. You would leave a good name behind you also."
So, after some further talk, it was decided that Jim should stay on atschool; and the next week the family moved to a little house in a muchpoorer quarter of the town.
Of course Dick went to help, and his bright smile and cheerful humourdid much to cheer them.
"Isn't it a poky place?" said Jim, pausing in the work of putting up hissister's bedstead.
"Well, you can't call it exactly a palace," replied Dick, "but it mightbe worse, you know. O my aunt!" And the Angel finished with a vigoroushowl.
"What's the matter?"
"I nipped my hand under that iron bar." And he sucked the tips of hisfingers as if they were sticks of sugar-candy. "Just see if you cantwist this nut round; I can't move it."
The two friends worked away with a will, making up in zeal what theylacked in experience, and very soon had the room looking quite cozy andcomfortable. Then they went downstairs; and before night, as Dick'smother, who had come over to help, put it, "things were beginning tolook a bit straight."
Susie, of course, could do nothing herself; but she played the part ofsuperintendent, and ordered the boys about, especially Dick,
whogood-humouredly obeyed all her commands. He looked on it all as greatfun, and announced his intention of worrying his mother until they had amove on their own account.
Mrs. Hartland had faced her trouble bravely, but before long Jimrecognized that things were much worse than he had guessed. Beyond hisfather's wages and the donation of a few pounds from the "ShipwreckedMariners' Society," they had absolutely no money, and there seemedlittle prospect of his mother being able to earn sufficient to keepthem. Already they had to deny themselves everything in the shape ofluxury, and even Susie had to go without various little delicacies whichthey had been in the habit of providing for her.
"I ought to give up school and go to work," he said; but to this hismother was strongly opposed.
"If you leave school now you can only be an errand boy," she said; "andwithout education, you will have no chance of doing anything in theworld."
Now I have no desire to put James Hartland forward as an uncommonly goodboy, because, as you will find for yourselves, he was nothing of thesort; but in this particular case he certainly deserved some credit.
One evening he arrived home very late, which was such an unusual thingthat his mother wondered what had kept him.
"Awfully sorry, mother," he cried, looking at the clock; "but I've beenup in the town on business."
"For the master?"
"No," replied the boy, with rather a forced smile; "on my own account.I've got a place. Don't be vexed. I shan't have to leave school; it'sonly mornings and evenings."
"What have you to do?"
"To take the papers to Mr. Broad's customers; and if I help on Saturdaystoo, he'll give me five shillings a week. What do you think of that?Isn't it splendid?"
"But you will have no time to study for the 'Gayton.'"
"I must work harder at school, and put in an hour extra in the morning.I'll manage, never fear, and the money will just pay the rent. Wasn'tit lucky I saw the card in the window? Of course I shan't be able toplay in the rest of the cricket matches, but they can easily get someone to take my place."
He spoke cheerfully, but his mother knew what a sacrifice he had made,and hoped, for his sake, that good might come of it.
"Jim," said Susie, plucking his sleeve nervously, "will you have to callout 'Paper!' like the boys who come round here at night?"
"No, you little goose," he laughed--"only to leave them at the differenthouses. And now, let me finish my tea. I must have a good grind atgeography this evening."
The Gayton Scholarship: A School Story Page 4