by Anonymous
CHAPTER VII.
THE MISSING SHIP.
In the meantime Ralph had been busy getting all the things ready for oursail; so we took our places in the boat, and stood out to sea. The windbeing steadily off shore, our progress was rapid; we bounded lightlyover the water, and had soon placed some distance between us and theCove.
George sat at the helm, keeping a keen look out in every direction;whilst Aleck, Ralph, and I, strained our eyes in fruitless efforts todiscover the tiny white sail we were longing to see.
The glorious sunshine dancing and sparkling on the water seemed to mockthe gloomy heavy-heartedness that was darkening the hours of our longanticipated holiday. Aleck and I were almost entirely silent. When wespoke, it was to Ralph, or George, as convenient third parties; not aword would we say to each other.
Old George did his best, with clumsy kindness, to make lively remarksfrom time to time; but the responsive laugh was wanting; and, afterexperiencing two or three signal failures, he struck his colours andyielded to the spell that had fallen upon us.
The whole Braycombe coast for many miles is deeply indented with creeksand coves, and diversified with outstanding rocks and promontories,about the most picturesque and the most dangerous part of our southernshores. Old George decided that probably the object of our search hadbeen driven in by the fitful wind amongst some of the near rocks andcreeks, and might, perhaps, be recovered by a careful search. So, warilysteered by our experienced sailor, we set ourselves to the work, havingscanned, to the best of our ability, the open sea beyond with a pockettelescope.
What with the tackings frequently necessary, and the taking down sail inone place, and then putting it up in another, the time passed onrapidly; and we were quite surprised, as we finished the exploration ofone of the little inlets, to hear Groves remark that it was "nigh upontwo o'clock, and that we'd all be the better of a little food." For thefirst time in our lives we had forgotten to be hungry.
It was decided that we should spread the luncheon on a broad flat stone,near which our boat was now curtseying listlessly on the water, and takeour repast ashore. George and Ralph lifted out the hamper, and spreadthe cloth, and arranged the various good things we found inside.
"And don't let us forget," said old George, reverently, lifting his hat,"the thanks we owe to our Father, which art in heaven, for His bountiesprovided for us."
The train of thought thus started seemed to go on in his mind, after wehad set to the serious business of luncheon. "You see, young gentlemen,"he presently continued, "we're to remember that all the good things Hesends us come from the same hand that sends us our disappointments too;and though we don't always see it, it's true that the troubles andtrials are amongst the _good_ things. Many a time I've kept a-thinkingof that verse which says, 'He that spared not His only-begotten Son, butdelivered Him up for us all, how shall He not, with Him, also freelygive us all things'--the _all things_ there meaning, you see, thetroubles and losses as much as the gains, and successes, and pleasures.And I think it's the same with children as with grown people; _their_trials, which are small to grown-up people, are great to _them_, andthey don't come by chance. And, when we are able to feel this way, younggentlemen, it's easier to bear up when the wind seems dead against you,and to say, when things go wrong, and there's a deal of beating about,and a shipping of heavy seas, as you're taught to say in the Lord'sprayer, 'Thy will be done.'"
I forget what was said after George finished this homely, but practicaland excellent children's sermon; but I can remember that Aleck's facelooked somewhat lighter; the words seemed to have touched some innerchord, and to have met _his_ troubles more than they did _mine_. _My_load, on the contrary, lay all the more heavily on my conscience; as Irealized that I was entirely shut out from such consolations as Georgetried to offer, so that I became _more_ rather than _less_ gloomy.
The old man resumed the thread of conversation soon again.
"It seems strange now," he said, "to think how we're grieving over thisbit of a toy ship, and then to think of how one's felt seeing, as I didonce, a good ship with her crew, men and boys, clinging to the rigging,and going down before your eyes, and you not able to help them, thoughthey kept a-screeching out and a-calling to you all the while."
"Couldn't you do anything?" we both exclaimed, our interest now fullyawakened; "did you try to help them?"
"Oh yes, sir," George answered, and I could see the tears standing inhis eyes; "God be praised, we didn't see 'em go down without doing whatwe could for them; and I'm glad to think of it, though my life didn'tseem worth the having for many a long day afterward."
"Oh, why?" asked Aleck, eagerly; and I, in spite of our being upon termsof not speaking, caught myself whispering to him, "Don't youknow?--Ralph's father was drowned."
But George went on, with his eyes fixed on the water, as if the greatsea which had swallowed up his dead were a book, and he were readingfrom it.
"His father"--and with a turn of the head he indicated Ralph--"was withme; he was but four-and-twenty, and as handsome as handsome; a youngfellow such as there was not many to be seen like him; and he was a goodson--a good son to his mother and to me--and a child of God, too, Heavenbe praised! 'Father,' says he, 'we must try to save them;' and, with thesound of those poor creatures' cries ringing in my ears, I dared not sayno, though the odds were fearful against us, and I was careful over_him_, though I'd not have minded for myself. Well, sir, two othersjoined us, and we succeeded in getting off; but just before we reachedthe sinking vessel, a heavy sea struck us, and in a moment we were allstruggling in the water. I thought I heard Ralph--_he_ was Ralph too--Ithought I heard him just say, 'God have mercy on my poor Betsey!'--sheas you know, Master Willie--and then I knew nothing until I woke up ina room where some kind people were rubbing me with hot flannels, andoffering me hot stuff to drink. So soon as I could speak, 'Where'sRalph?' I says, looking round for him; and then I saw in their faces howit was; and they came round me, treating me quite tenderly like a child,though they were rough sailors. And one of 'em, a God-fearing man, whohad spoken a bit to us many a time when we'd no parson, was put forwardby them, and he comes and whispers to me, 'You'll see him again, George,when the sea shall give up its dead. You'll meet before the throne ofGod and of the Lamb.' Well, sir, I was but a poor frail mortal, and mysenses left me again, and I was long of coming round. But ever sincethen, as I look at the wide water, I seem to hear a voice saying, thesea shall give up its dead, and we'll meet some day before the throne ofGod and of the Lamb. Yes; I'm not afraid of the open Book for him, poorboy, for long afore that day I knew he'd taken his sailing orders underthe Great Captain. 'Father,' he's said to me, 'I know Jesus Christ has_died_ for me; I must _live_ for him.' And when the poor body was washedashore, there was his little Testament in his pocket, all dripping withthe sea water. I dried it, and found it could still be read, and evensome of his marks; there's not another thing I prize so much."
Old George took the little unsightly-looking volume from his pocket, andgave it reverently to us to look at, and Aleck and I bent over ittogether, and deciphered on the title-page, in crooked lines of roundhandwriting, the name, _Ralph Groves_--_his book_; and underneath was averse of a hymn, evidently remembered and not copied, which must havebeen one of those sung amongst the Methodists on that part of the coastwhere, as George told me, Ralph used to attend their meetings.
"Lord Jesus, be my constant Guide, Then when the word is given, Bid death's dark stream its waves divide, And land me safe in heaven."
"You see, young gentlemen," resumed George, when we had given him backthe little book, "things which seem hard to bear--ay, and _are_ hard tobear now--are but little things after all, and will be as nothing inthat day when all wrong words and tempers will seem great things, fargreater than we sometimes think."
Aleck and I had listened with full hearts to Groves's touching accountof his son's death, and it was in a subdued quiet manner that we rose upfrom our meal and settled ourselves again in
the boat. There wasevidently an inward struggle going on in my cousin's mind, and I almostfeared that he was going to ask my pardon, which I should have disliked,knowing myself to be so much the most in the wrong. It was quite arelief to find that in this I was mistaken; he only remained, as before,very silent; and I, too, was silent, and found myself, with eyes fixedon the water, thinking of George's son, and of the opened Book, andwondering concerning the things written therein, and whether all thathad happened this day would be found there; whilst old George's wordsseemed to repeat themselves over in my mind, and I kept saying tomyself, "The loss of the ship will be a very little thing then, whilstall wrong words and tempers will seem greater than we think."
We had not resumed our search very long, when Aleck declared that he sawsomething white in the distance which he thought was the little vessel.We all eagerly turned our eyes in the direction indicated, and althoughno one felt very sure that we had at last discovered the object of oursearch, there was sufficient uncertainty to make us eager in pursuit. Wehad to tack frequently, but at last reached the little white thing whichinspired our hopes, and, alas! discovered that it was only a whitenedbranch of a tree washed out from shore, on which the wet leavesglistened and shone in the afternoon sun. It was a fresh disappointmentto us all, and the time our chase had occupied prevented the possibilityof any further research. Even as it was, we were quite late in reachingthe Cove, and found that my father had been on the watch for us with histelescope, and had been greatly perplexed by the erratic character ofour movements.
Of course he was instantly told the tragical history of our day. Aleck,whose sorrow had been renewed by our fruitless search, did not hesitateto lay emphasis upon the fact that I had been left alone at the Cove;and I was quite startled by the quick abrupt manner in which my fatherturned round to me and said,--
"Willie, did you meddle with the ship or the rope whilst Aleck wasaway?"
But, thankful that the inquiry took this form, I was able to answerunhesitatingly,--
"No, papa, I did not touch the boat once, or the rope either, thismorning, and it's very, very wrong of Aleck to say that I did."
Whilst Aleck, the dark angry look flashing once again from his eyes,exclaimed,--
"I know he hated my having the yacht; I'm sure he wanted me to lose it."
Mr. Gordon, although as much shocked at this outburst as George hadbeen, was not disposed to treat the matter quite as he had done.
That both of us were guilty of wrong temper there could be no doubt, buthe saw also that there was still something to be cleared up; and insteadof quenching the subject by telling us we had both behaved badly, anddeserved to be unhappy, as is the self-indulgent custom of many grown-uppeople in the matter of children's quarrels, he forbade any furtherrecrimination, and after dinner was over, calmly and quietly inquiredinto every particular of our story, with as much care as if he had beenon his magistrate's bench in court, and this were a case of greatimportance; first questioning Aleck, and then myself.
As my examination drew to a close, however, Aleck once again burst inwith the determined assertion that I knew more than I had said.
My mother, who was present, was indignant at his persistency, sayingthat in all my life I had never told a lie, and it was unpardonable thusto speak of me; whilst my father simply said, "Since you are not able toconduct yourself with propriety, Aleck, you must go to bed." And mycousin left the room accordingly, whilst I was subjected to the moraltorture of a further cross-examination; from which, however, strong inthe distinct assertion that I had not touched either rope or boat, Icame off clear.
One step, indeed, my father gained, in the course of his inquiry,towards the truth. In answer to one of his questions, I used thepronoun _we_.
"Who's _we_?" asked my father, quickly.
"Frisk and I, papa."
"Then you had Frisk with you, and I suppose as playful as usual?"
"Yes, papa."
"Did Frisk get at the ship or the rope, do you think?"
"I never saw him touch the ship; I don't think he could touch it; butthen I went to the meadow to fly the kite."
"Did Frisk get near the rope?"
"Yes, papa, just before I came away; but I didn't see him slip off thering, though now I think he must have done so."
"You think so because you saw him going near the rope?"
"Yes, papa; but I can't tell you any more. I went to fly my kite, andFrisk came up quite panting soon after, having run hard because I hadhappened to leave him behind."
"It was the dog did it," said my father quite decidedly, turning to mymother. "Willie, you should have been more careful; you might have knownit was not safe to leave Frisk in the Cove; but I quite believe yourword, and that you had no hand in the matter."
Then the subject was dismissed: I played a game of chess with my mother,and finally went up to bed at the usual time, to receive, before goingto sleep, the never-omitted visit, which was the peaceful closing to somany peaceful days.
My mother stayed but for a moment on this evening, going on almost atonce to my cousin's room.
I heard all about that visit afterwards, so that I am able to tell whatpassed almost as well as if I had been present.
My mother found Aleck lying wearily and restlessly in bed, with tearfuleyes and hot flushed face, that told of sleep being by no means near.She sat down beside him and said, "It was a sad disappointment for you,Aleck, to lose your pretty new boat; and I daresay you feel it hard notto have your own dear mamma to tell all about it."
Aleck tried to answer, but failed, bursting into tears instead, and mymother talked on in her gentle loving way until the sobs grew lessfrequent, and my cousin became at last quite calm. She told him that Ihad always spoken the truth--she little knew--and that she could notdoubt my word, and that my father had become quite convinced it was themischievous work of the dog that had brought about all this trouble; andthen she made him feel how wrong it was to have accused me, instead ofbelieving my word; so that, before she left the room, he had told her hewas very very sorry for what he had said, and he hoped she and his unclewould forgive him, and that he meant to ask my forgiveness also. I knowthat my mother told him of a higher forgiveness that must be obtainedbefore he could feel at peace with his conscience, and spoke to himsomewhat in the same manner that George had, about trials great or smallbeing kindly and lovingly permitted by a heavenly Father.
I was almost asleep when my door opened, and the pattering of shoelessfeet announced a visitor. Aleck was groping in the dark, and, guided bymy voice, reached the bottom of my bed, discovered the mound raised bymy feet, felt his way along the ridge of my person, and having arrivedat my head, flung his arms around my neck, and kissing me warmly--in myeye by mistake--said he could not sleep until he had told me how sorryhe was for having behaved so badly, and suspected me, and called me badnames. He was quite sure now that Frisk had done the mischief, and hehoped I would forgive him, adding that there was still just a chance offinding the vessel, and that he meant to be up very early, and out bysix o'clock the next morning, to have a good look down in the White-RockCove. "I daresay I shall find it after all, Willie, and if not--why, Imust finish the old thing we've been working at so long. But I oncefound a knife of mine after I had lost it a week in a hay-field; so yousee I'm lucky." He kissed me again and went back to his bed, whilst Ilay tossing and wakeful, full of shame and self-reproach, and yet morethan ever built up in my determination that I would not, and could not,confess the whole truth; it would be too great a shame and humiliationafter having so fully committed myself, and when my parents hadexpressed such perfect confidence in my truthfulness.