The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  The girls were greatly affected. They adored their brother, and the thought that he was going away for years was terrible to them. Nothing that could be said pacified them in the slightest degree, and they did nothing but cry, until they retired to bed. Charlie was much affected by their sorrow; but when they had retired, he took his hat and went out to tell the news of his approaching departure to some of his chums.

  The next day, Mrs. Marryat wrote thanking her uncle for his kindness, and saying that Charlie would go round to London by the packet which sailed on the following Monday; and would, if the wind were fair and all went well, reach London on the Wednesday.

  School was, of course, at once given up, and the girls also had a holiday till their brother’s departure. When the necessary clothes were ordered, there was little more to do; and Charlie spent the time, when his boy friends were in school, in walking with the girls along the shore, talking to them of the future, of the presents he would send them home, and of the life he should lead in India; while at other times he went out with his favourite schoolfellows, and joined in one last grand battle with the smack boys.

  On Monday morning, after a sad farewell to his family, Charlie embarked on board the Yarmouth Belle, a packet which performed the journey to and from London once a fortnight. She was a roomy lugger, built for stowage rather than speed, and her hold was crammed and her deck piled with packages of salted fish. There were five or six other persons also bound for London, the journey to which was, in those days, regarded as an arduous undertaking.

  As soon as the Yarmouth Belle issued from the mouth of the river, she began to pitch heavily; and Charlie, who from frequently going out with his father in the revenue cutter, was a good sailor, busied himself in doing his best for his afflicted fellow passengers. Towards evening the wind got up, and shifting ahead, the captain dropped anchor off Lowestoft. The next morning was finer, and the Yarmouth Belle continued her way. It was not, however, till Thursday afternoon that she dropped anchor in the Pool.

  Charlie was soon on shore, and giving his trunk to a porter, desired him to lead the way to Bread Street, in which his uncle resided; for in the last century, such things as country villas were almost unknown, and the merchants of London for the most part resided in the houses where they carried on their business. Keeping close to the porter, to see that he did not make off with his trunk, for Charlie had received many warnings as to the extreme wickedness of London, he followed him through the busy streets, and arrived safely at his uncle’s door.

  It was now dusk, and Charlie, on giving his name, was shown upstairs to a large room, which was lighted by a fire blazing in the hearth. Standing with his back to this was a gentleman whom he at once recognized, from his mother’s description, as her uncle, although he was a good deal more portly than when she had seen him last.

  “So you are my grandnephew,” he said, holding out what Charlie considered to be a very limp and flabby hand towards him.

  “Yes, Uncle,” Charlie said cheerfully; “and we are very much obliged to you, Mamma and I, for your kindness.”

  “Humph!” the old gentleman grunted.

  “And how is it,” he asked severely, “that you were not here yesterday? My niece’s letter led me to expect that you would arrive yesterday.”

  “We came as fast as we could, Uncle,” Charlie laughed; “but of course the time depends upon the wind. The captain tells me that he has been as much as three weeks coming round.”

  Mr. Tufton grunted again as if to signify that such unpunctuality was altogether displeasing to him.

  “You are tall,” he said, looking up at Charlie, who stood half a head above him, “and thin, very thin. You have a loose way of standing, which I don’t approve of.”

  “I’m sorry I’m loose, sir,” Charlie said gravely, “if you do not approve of it; but you see, running about and playing games make one lissome. I suppose, now that’s all over and I am going to spend my time in writing, I shall get stiffer.”

  “I hope so, I hope so,” Mr. Tufton said encouragingly, and as if stiffness were one of the most desirable things in life. “I like to see young men with a sedate bearing.

  “And you left my niece and grandnieces well, I hope?”

  “Quite well, thank you, sir,” Charlie said; “but, of course, a good deal upset with parting from me.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Tufton said; “I suppose so. Women are so emotional. Now there’s nothing I object to more than emotion.”

  As Charlie thought that this was probably the case, he was silent, although the idea vaguely occurred to him that he should like to excite a little emotion in his uncle, by the sudden insertion of a pin, or some other such means. The silence continued for some little time, and then Mr. Tufton said:

  “I always dine at two o’clock; but as probably you are hungry—I have observed that boys always are hungry—some food will be served you in the next room. I had already given my housekeeper orders. No doubt you will find it prepared. After that, you may like to take a walk in the streets. I have supper at nine, by which hour you will, of course, have returned.”

  Charlie, as he ate his meal, thought to himself that his uncle was a pompous old gentleman, and that it would be very hard work getting on with him, for the next three weeks. However, he consoled himself by the thought:

  “Kind is as kind does after all, and I expect the old gentleman is not as crusty as he looks.”

  Charlie had handed to Mr. Tufton a letter which his mother had given him, and when he returned from a ramble through the streets, he found that gentleman sitting by the fire, with lights upon a small table beside him. Upon this Mrs. Marryat’s letter lay open.

  “So you have soon become tired of the streets of London, Grandnephew!” he said.

  “There is not much to see, sir. The lamps do not burn very brightly, and the fog is coming on. I thought that, if it grew thicker, I might lose my way, and in that case I might not have been in at the hour you named for supper.”

  “Humph!” the other gentleman grunted. “So your mother has taught you to be punctual to meals. But, no; boys’ appetites teach them to be punctual then, if never at any other time.

  “And why, sir?” he asked severely, “Did my niece not write to me before?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” Charlie said. “I suppose she did not like—that is, she didn’t think—that is—”

  “Think, sir! Like, sir!” said his uncle. “What right had she either to think or to like? Her duty clearly was to have made me acquainted, at once, with all the circumstances. I suppose I had a right to say whether I approved of my grandnieces going tramping about the world as governesses, or not. It isn’t because a woman chooses, by her folly, to separate herself from her family, that they are to be deprived of their rights in a matter of this kind. Eh, sir, what do you say to that?” and Mr. Tufton looked very angry, indeed.

  “I don’t know, sir,” Charlie said. “I have never thought the matter over.”

  “Why, sir, suppose she had made you a tinker, sir, and you turned out a thief, as likely as not you would have done, and you’d been hung, sir, what then? Am I to have such discredit as this brought upon me, without my having any option in the matter?”

  “I suppose not, sir,” Charlie said. “I hope I shouldn’t have turned out a thief, even if I’d been a tinker; but perhaps it was because my mother feared that this might be the case, that she did give you the option.”

  His uncle looked at him keenly; but Charlie, though with some difficulty, maintained the gravest face.

  “It is well she did so,” Mr. Tufton said; “very well. If she had not done so, I should have known the reason why. And you, sir, do you like the thought of going to India?”

  “Yes, Uncle, I like the thought very much, though I would rather, if I may say so, have gone as a cadet.”

  “I thought so,” Mr. Tufton said, sarcastically. “I was sure of it. You wanted to wear a red coat and a sword, and to swagger about the streets of Calcutta, instead of
making an honorable living and acquiring a fortune.”

  “I don’t think, sir,” Charlie said, “that the idea of the red coat and sword entered into my mind; but it seemed to me the choice of a life of activity and adventure, against one as a mere clerk.”

  “Had you entered the military service of the Company, even if you didn’t get shot, you could only hope to rise to the command of a regiment, ranking with a civilian very low down on the list. The stupidity of boys is unaccountable. It’s a splendid career, sir, that I have opened to you; but if I’d known that you had no ambition, I would have put you into my own counting house; though there, that wouldn’t have done either, for I know you would have blotted the ledger, and turned all the accounts topsy-turvy.

  “And now, sir, supper is ready;” and the old gentleman led the way into the next room.

  Upon the following day Charlie was introduced, by his uncle, to the director who had given him his nomination, and was told by him that the board would sit upon the following day, and that he must call at the India House, at eleven o’clock. The ordeal was not a formidable one. He was shown into a room where eight or ten elderly gentlemen were sitting round a large table. Among these was his friend of the day before. He was asked a question or two about his age, his father’s profession, and his place of education. Then the gentleman at the head of the table nodded to him, and said he could go, and instructions would be sent to him, and that he was to prepare to sail in the Lizzie Anderson, which would leave the docks in ten days’ time, and that he would be, for the present, stationed at Madras.

  Much delighted at having got through the ordeal so easily, Charlie returned to his uncle’s. He did not venture to penetrate into the latter’s counting house, but awaited his coming upstairs to dinner, to tell him the news.

  “Humph!” said his uncle; “it is lucky they did not find out what a fool you were, at once. I was rather afraid that even the two minutes would do it. After dinner, I will send my clerk round with you, to get the few things which are necessary for your voyage.

  “I suppose you will want to, what you call amuse yourself, to see the beasts at Exeter Change, and the playhouses. Here are two sovereigns. Don’t get into loose company, and don’t get drinking, sir, or out of the house you go.”

  Charlie attempted to express his thanks, but his uncle stopped him abruptly.

  “Hold your tongue, sir. I am doing what is right; a thing, sir, Joshua Tufton always has done, and doesn’t expect to be thanked for it. All I ask you is, that if you rob the Company’s till and are hung, don’t mention that you are related to me.”

  After dinner was over, Charlie went out under the charge of an old clerk, and visited tailors’ and outfitters’ shops, and found that his uncle’s idea of the few necessaries for a voyage differed very widely from his own. The clerk, in each case, inquired from the tradesmen what was the outfit which gentlemen going to India generally took with them, and Charlie was absolutely appalled at the magnitude of the orders. Four dozen shirts, ten dozen pairs of stockings, two dozen suits of white cotton cloth, and everything else in proportion. Charlie in vain remonstrated, and even implored the clerk to abstain from ordering what appeared to him such a fabulous amount of things; and begged him, at any rate, to wait until he had spoken to his uncle. The clerk, however, replied that he had received instructions that the full usual outfit was to be obtained, and that Mr. Tufton never permitted his orders to be questioned. Charlie was forced to submit, but he was absolutely oppressed with the magnitude of his outfit, to carry which six huge trunks were required.

  “It is awful,” Charlie said to himself, “positively awful. How much it will all come to, goodness only knows; three or four hundred pounds, at least.”

  In those days, before steam was thought of, and the journey to India was often of six months’ duration, men never came home more than once in seven years, and often remained in India from the day of their arrival until they finally retired, without once revisiting England. The outfits taken out were, therefore, necessarily much larger than at the present time, when a run home to England can be accomplished in three weeks, and there are plenty of shops, in every town in India, where all European articles of necessity or luxury can be purchased.

  After separating from the clerk, Charlie felt altogether unable to start out in search of amusement. He wandered about vaguely till supper time, and then attempted to address his uncle on the subject.

  “My dear Uncle,” he began, “you’ve been so awfully kind to me, that I really do not like to trespass upon you. I am positively frightened at the outfit your clerk has ordered. It is enormous. I’m sure I can’t want so many things, possibly, and I would really rather take a much smaller outfit; and then, as I want them, I can have more things out from England, and pay for them myself.”

  “You don’t suppose,” Mr. Tufton said sternly, “that I’m going to have my nephew go out to India with the outfit of a cabin boy. I ordered that you were to have the proper outfit of a gentleman, and I requested my clerk to order a considerable portion of the things to be made of a size which will allow for your growing, for you look to me as if you were likely enough to run up into a lanky giant, of six feet high. I suppose he has done as I ordered him. Don’t let me hear another word on the subject.”

  CHAPTER 2

  The Young Writer

  For the next four days, Charlie followed his uncle’s instructions and amused himself. He visited Exeter Change, took a boat and rowed down the river to Greenwich, and a coach and visited the palace of Hampton Court. He went to see the coaches make their start, in the morning, for all places in England, and marvelled at the perfection of the turnouts. He went to the playhouses twice, in the evening, and saw Mr. Garrick in his performance as Richard the Third.

  On the fifth day, a great surprise awaited him. His uncle, at breakfast, had told him briefly that he did not wish him to go out before dinner, as someone might want to see him; and Charlie, supposing that a messenger might be coming down from the India House, waited indoors; and an hour later he was astonished, when the door of the room opened and his mother and sisters entered.

  With a shout of gladness and surprise, Charlie rushed into their arms.

  “My dear mother, my dear girls, this is an unexpected pleasure, indeed! Why, what has brought you here?”

  “Didn’t you know we were coming, Charlie? Didn’t Uncle tell you?” they exclaimed.

  “Not a word,” Charlie said. “I never dreamt of such a thing. What, has he called you up here to stay till I go?”

  “Oh, my dear, he has been so kind,” his mother said; “and so funny! He wrote me such a scolding letter, just as if I had been a very naughty little girl. He said he wasn’t going to allow me to bring disgrace upon him, by living in wretched lodgings at Yarmouth, nor by his grandnieces being sent out as governesses. So he ordered me at once—ordered me Charlie, as if I had no will of my own—to give up the lodgings, and to take our places in the coach, yesterday morning. He said we were not to shame him by appearing here in rags, and he sent me a hundred pounds, every penny of which, he said, was to be laid out in clothes. As to the future, he said it would be his duty to see that I brought no further disgrace upon the family.”

  “Yes, and he’s been just as kind to me, Mother. As I told you when I wrote, he had ordered an enormous outfit, which will, I am sure, cost hundreds of pounds. He makes me go to the playhouses, and all sorts of amusements; and all the time he has been so kind he scolds, and grumbles, and predicts that I shall be hanged.”

  “I’m sure you won’t,” Kate, his youngest sister, said indignantly. “How can he say such a thing?”

  “He doesn’t mean it,” Charlie laughed. “It’s only his way. He will go on just the same way with you, I have no doubt; but you mustn’t mind, you know, and mustn’t laugh, but must look quite grave and serious.

  “Ah! Here he is.

  “Oh, Uncle, this is kind of you!”

  “Hold your tongue, sir,” said his uncle,
“and try and learn not to speak to your elders, unless you are addressed.

  “Niece Mary,” he said, kissing her upon the forehead, “I am glad to see you again. You are not so much changed as I expected.

  “And these are my grandnieces, Elizabeth and Kate, though why Kate I don’t know. It is a fanciful name, and new to the family, and I am surprised that you didn’t call her Susanna, after your grandmother.”

  Kate made a little face at the thought of being called Susanna. However, a warning glance from Charlie closed her lips, just as she was about to express her decided preference for her own name. Mr. Tufton kissed them both, muttering to himself:

  “I suppose I ought to kiss them. Girls always expect to be kissed at every opportunity.

  “What are you laughing at, grandniece?”

  “I don’t think girls expect to be kissed, except by people they like,” Kate said; “but we do like kissing you, Uncle,” throwing her arms round his neck, and kissing him heartily; “because you have been so kind to Charlie, and have brought us up to see him again.”

  “You have disarranged my white tie, Niece,” Mr. Tufton said, extricating himself from Kate’s embrace.

  “Niece Mary, I fear that you have not taught your daughters to restrain their emotions, and there is nothing so dreadful as emotional women.”

  “Perhaps I have not taken so much pains with their education, in that way, as in some others,” Mrs. Marryat said, smiling. “But of course, Uncle, if you object to be kissed, the girls will abstain from doing so.”

  “No,” Mr. Tufton said, thoughtfully. “It is the duty of nieces to kiss their uncles, in moderation—in moderation, mind—and it is the duty of the uncles to receive those salutations, and I do not know that the duty is altogether an unpleasant one. I am, myself, unaccustomed to be kissed, but it is an operation to which I may accustom myself, in time.”