St. Winifred's; or, The World of School

by F. W. Farrar

  CHAPTER FORTY.

  WHAT THE SEA GAVE UP.

  The sands and yeasty surges mix At midnight in a dreary bay;-- And on thy ribs the limpet sticks, And o'er thy bones the scrawl shall play.

  Tennyson.

  Anxiety reigned at Saint Winifred's, succeeded by consternation andintense grief. Little was thought of the absence of the three boys attea-time, but when it came to chapel-time and bed-time, and they had notyet appeared, and when next morning it was found that they had not beenheard of during the night, everyone became seriously alarmed, and allthe neighbouring country was searched for intelligence.

  The place on the cliff where Kenrick had descended was observed, but asthe traces showed that only _one_ boy had gone down there, thediscovery, so far from explaining matters, only rendered them moreinexplicable. Additional light was thrown on the subject by thedisappearance of Bryce's boat, and the worst fears seemed to beconfirmed by his information that it was a ricketty old concern, onlyintended to paddle in smooth weather close to the shore. But whatearthly reason could have induced three boys to venture out in such atub on so wild a night? That they did it for pleasure wasinconceivable, the more so as rowing was strictly forbidden; and as noother reason could be suggested, all conjecture was at fault.

  The fishermen went out in their smacks, but found no traces, and gainedno tidings of the missing boys; and all through that weary and anxiousday the belief that they had been lost at sea gained ground. Almost allday Power, and Eden, and Henderson, had been gazing out to sea, orwandering on the shore, in the vain hope of seeing them come rowingacross the bay; but all the sailors on the shore affirmed that if they_had_ gone out in an open boat, and particularly in Bryce's boat, it wasan utter impossibility that they could have outlived the tempest of thepreceding night.

  At last, towards the evening, the sea gave up, not indeed her dead, butwhat was accepted as a positive proof of their wretched fate.Henderson, who was in a fever of excitement, which Power vainly stroveto allay, was walking with him and Eden, who was hardly less troubled,along the beach, when he caught sight of something floating along,rising and falling on the dumb sullen swell of the advancing tide. Hethought and declared at first, with a start of horror, that it was thelight hair of a drowned boy; but they very soon saw that it could not bethat, and dashing in waist-deep after it, Henderson brought out _thetorn and battered fragments of a straw hat_. The ribbon, of dark blueand white, though soaked and discoloured, still served to identify it ashaving belonged to a Saint Winifred's boy; and, carefully examining theflannel lining, they saw on a piece of linen sewn upon it--only toolegible still--the name "H. Kenrick." Nor was this all they found. Thediscovery had quickened their search, and soon afterwards Power, with asudden suppressed cry, pointed to something black, lying, with adreadful look about it, at a far part of the sand. Again their heartsgrew cold, and running up to it they all recognised, with fresh horrorand despair, _the coat which Walter had last worn_. They recognised it,but besides this, to place the matter beyond a doubt, his name wasmarked on the inside of the sleeve. In one of the pockets was hisschool notebook, with all the notes he had taken, and the playfulcaricatures which here and there he had scribbled over the pages; and inthe other, stained with the salt water, and tearing at every touch, werethe letters he had last received.

  All the next day the doubt was growing into certainty. Mr and MrsEvson were summoned from Semlyn, and came with feelings that cannot bedepicted. Power gave to Mrs Evson the coat he had picked up, and heand Henderson hardly ever left the parents of their friend, doing allthey could to cheer their spirits and support in them the hopes theycould hardly feel themselves. To this day Mrs Evson cherishes thatcoat as a dear and sacred relic, which reminds her of the mercy whichsustained her during the first great agony which she had endured in herhappy life. Power kept poor Kenrick's hat, for no relation of his wasthere to claim it.

  Another day dawned, and settled grief and gloom fell on all alike atSaint Winifred's--the boys, the masters, the inhabitants. The sight ofMr and Mrs Evson's speechless anguish impressed all hearts, and bythis time hope seemed quenched for ever. For now one boy only,--thoughyoung hearts are slow to give up hope--had refused to believe the worst.It was Eden. He _persisted_ that the three boys must have been pickedup. The belief had come upon him suddenly, and grown upon him he knewnot how, but he was _sure_ of it; and therefore his society brought mostrelief and comfort to the torn heart of the mother. "What made him soconfident?" she asked. He did not know; he had seen it, or dreamt it,or _felt_ it somehow, only he felt unalterably convinced that so it was."They will come back, dear Mrs Evson, they will come back, you willsee," was his repeated asseveration; and oppressed as her heart was withdoubt and fear, she was never weary of those words.

  And on the fourth day, while Mr Evson was absent, having gone to makeenquiries in London of all the ships which had passed by SaintWinifred's on that day, Eden, radiant with joy, rushed into Dr Lane'sdrawing-room, where Mrs Evson was sitting, and utterly regardless of_les convenances_, burst out with the exclamation, "O Mrs Evson, it istrue, it is true what I always told you. Didn't I say that I knew it?They _have_ been picked up."

  "Hush, my boy; steady," whispered Mrs Lane; "you should have deliveredthe message less suddenly. The revulsion of feeling from sorrow to joywill be too much for her."

  "O Eden, tell me," said the mother faintly, recalling her sensesbewildered by the shock of intelligence; "are you certain? Oh, whereare my boys?"

  "You will see them soon," he said very gently; and the next moment, toconfirm his words, the door again new open, and Charlie Evson waswrapped in his mother's arms, and strained to her heart, and coveredwith her kisses, and his bright young face bathed in her tears ofgratitude and joy.

  "Charlie, darling Charlie, where is Walter?" were her first words.

  "What, don't you know me then, mother; and have you no kiss to spare forme?" said the playful voice of a boy enveloped in a sailor's blueshell-jacket; and then it was Walter's turn to feel in that long embracewhat is the agonising fondness of a mother's love.

  Kenrick was looking on a little sadly--not envious, but made sorrowfulby memory. But the next moment Walter, taking him by the hand, hadintroduced him to his mother and she kissed him too on the cheek. "Yourname is so familiar to me, Kenrick," she said; "and you have sharedtheir dangers."

  "Walter has twice saved my life, Mrs Evson," he answered, "and thistime, I trust, he has saved it in more senses than one."

  The boys' story was soon told. Just as their boat was beginning tosink, and the bitterness of death seemed over, Walter caught sight ofthe lights of a ship, and saw her huge dark outline looming not far fromthem, and towering above the waves. Instantly he and Charlie hadshouted with all the frantic energy of reviving hope. By God's mercytheir shouts had been heard; in spite of the risk and difficulty causedby the turbulence of the night, the ship hove to, the long-boat wasmanned, and the amazed sailors had rescued them not ten minutes beforetheir wretched boat swirled round and sank to the bottom.

  Nothing could exceed the care and tenderness with which the sailors andthe good captain of the _Morning Star_ had treated them. The genialwarmth of the captain's cabin, the food and wine of which they stood somuch in need, the rest and quiet, and a long, long sleep, continued fornearly twenty-four hours, had recruited their failing strength, andrestored them to perfect health. Past Saint Winifred's Bay extends formiles and miles a long range of iron-bound coast, and this circumstance,together with the violence of the breeze blowing away from land, hadprevented the captain from having any opportunity of putting them ashoreuntil the morning of this day, when, with kind-hearted liberality, hehad also supplied them with the money requisite to pay their way toSaint Winifred's.

  "You can't think how jolly it was on board, mother," said Charlie."I've learnt all about ships, and it was such fun; and they were all askind to us as possible."

  "You mustn't suppose we didn't think of you, mother deare
st," saidWalter, "and how anxious you would be; but we felt sure you wouldbelieve that some ship had picked us up."

  "Yes, Walter; and to taste this joy is worth any past sorrow," said hismother. "You must thank your friend Eden for mainly keeping up myspirits, for he was almost the only person who maintained that you werestill alive."

  "And now, Mrs Evson," said Power, "you must spare them for ten minutes,for the masters and all the school are impatient to see and congratulatethem."

  The whole story had spread among the boys in ten minutes, and they wereagain proud to recognise Walter's chivalrous daring. When he appearedin the blue jacket with which Captain Peters had replaced the loss ofhis coat, with Kenrick's arm in his, and holding Charlie's hand, cheerafter cheer broke from the assembled boys; and finally, unable torepress their joy and enthusiasm, they lifted the three on theirshoulders and chaired them all round the court.

  You may suppose that it was a joyful dinner party that evening at DrLane's. Mr Evson, as they had conjectured, had heard of his son'ssafety in London from the captain of the _Morning Star_, to whom he hadtendered his warmest and most grateful thanks, and to whom, beforeleaving London, he had presented, in testimony of his gratitude, anexquisite chronometer. Returning to Saint Winifred's he found his twoboys seated happily in the drawing-room awaiting him, each with theirmother's hand in theirs, and in the company of their best boy-friends.Walter was still in the blue shell-jacket, which became him well, andwhich neither Mrs Lane nor the boys would suffer him to change. It wasindeed an evening never to be forgotten, and hardly less joyous andmemorable was the grand breakfast which the Sixth gave to Walter andKenrick in memory of the event, and to which, by special exception,little Charlie was also invited.

  Rejoicings are good, but they were saved for greater and better things.These three young boys had stood face to face with sudden death. Death,as it were, had laid his hand on their shoulders, had taken them by thehair and looked upon them, and bade them commune with themselves; and,when he released them from that stern cold grasp, it gave to their livesan awful reality. It did not quench, indeed, their naturalmirthfulness, but it filled them with strong purposes and high thoughts.Kenrick returned to Saint Winifred's a changed boy; long-continuedterror had quite altered the expression of his countenance, but, whilethis effect soon wore off, the _moral_ effects produced in him werehappily permanent. He began a life in earnest; for him there was nomore listlessness, or moody fits of sorrow, or bursts of waywardself-indulgence. He became strenuous, diligent, modest, earnest, kind;he too, like Walter and Charlie, began his career "_from strength tostrength_." Under him, and Power, and Walter, and others, whom theirinfluence had formed or who had been moulded by the tradition they hadleft behind them, Saint Winifred's flourished more and more, and addednew honours and benefits to its old and famous name. At the end of thathalf-year Power left, but not until he had won the Balliol Scholarshipand carried off nearly all the prizes in the school. Walter succeededhim as head of the school; and he and Kenrick (who was restored to hisold place on the list) worked heart and soul together for the good ofit. In those days it was indeed in a happy and prosperous state--renowned and honoured without, well governed and high toned within. DrLane felt and acknowledged that much of this success was due to theexample and to the vigour of these head boys. Power, when he left, wasbeloved and distinguished; Walter and Kenrick trod in his steps. To theboundless delight of the school they too carried off in one year thehighest open scholarship at each University; and when they also left,they had been as successful as Power, and were, if possible, even moreuniversally beloved. Whalley carried on for another year the hightradition, and, in due time, little Charlie also attained the head placein the school, and so behaved as to identify his name and Walter's withsome of its happiest and wisest institutions for many years.

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

  L'ENVOI.

  Is not to-day enough? why do I peer Into the darkness of the day to come? Is not to-morrow e'en as yesterday?

  Relics of Shelley.

  May I not leave them here? Where could I leave them better than on thismarble threshold of a promising boyhood; still happy and noble in thefreshness of their feelings, the brightness of their hopes, theenthusiasm of their thoughts? Need I say a word of after-life, with thefading of its earlier visions, and the coldness and hardness of itsways? I should like to linger with them here; to shake hands here infarewell, and leave them as the boys I knew. They are living still, andare happy and highly honoured in the world. In their case "the boy hasbeen father to the man;" and the reader who has understood andsympathised with them in their early life will not ask me to draw asidethe curtain, even for a moment, to show them as they appeared when a fewmore summers had seen them grow to the full stature of their manhood.

  I said that they were living still; but it is not so with all of them.

  Charlie Evson alone, of the little band who have been amongst the numberof our friends at Saint Winifred's--alone, though the youngest of themall--is now dead. He died a violent death. Filled with a missionaryspirit, and desirous, like Edward Irving, of "something more high andheroical in religion than this age affecteth," he joined a mission toone of the great groups of Pacific Islands. And there, many a time, inthe evening, after a day spent in teaching the natives how to planttheir fields and build their houses, he would gather them round him inthe twilight, and, while the cool wind wandered over his hair and brow,and shook overhead the graceful plumes of the cocoa-palm, he would talkto them in low sweet tones, until the fireflies were twinkling in thethicket and the stars stole out one after another in their silentmyriads, of One Who came from the highest Heaven to redeem them fromsavagery and degradation, and to make them holy as He was holy, and pureas He was pure. He was eminently successful; but when he had planted insome islands the first seeds of a fruitful Christianity, he sailed toother reefs, still carrying the everlasting gospel in his hands. Oneevening as the little missionary ship, which Charlie himself had built,drew near the land, they saw that the natives were drawn up in athreatening attitude on the beach. Trusting to conciliate them bykindness and by presents, the young missionary, taking with him a fewglittering trifles to attract their notice, proceeded with a small bandof followers towards the shore. At first the natives seemed inclined toreceive them well, but suddenly, by the wild impulse to which barbariansare so liable, one of the savages pierced a sailor with his spear.Evson, by an effort of strength, wrenched the weapon out of his hand andtold his men to take up the wounded sailor and retreat. This theyeffected in safety, for the islanders were struck and awed by the youngEnglishman's high bearing and firm attitude; and his eye fixed quietlyupon them kept them back. He was himself the last to step into theboat, and, as he turned to do so, one of the wretches struck him on thehead with his accursed club. He fell stunned and bleeding upon thebeach, and in an instant was dispatched by the spears and clubs of ahundred savages, while the boat's crew barely escaped with their lives,and the little mission vessel, spreading all her sails, could withdifficulty elude the pursuit of the canoes, which swarmed out of thecreeks to give her chase. The corpse lay bleeding upon a namelessstrand, and the soft fair hair that a mother's hand had fondled and amother's lips had kissed, dangled as a trophy at the girdle of acannibal. Thus it was that Charlie died; and a marble tablet in SemlynChurch, ornamented with the most delicate and exquisite sculpture,records his tragic fate, and stands as a monument of his parents' tenderlove. As a boy he had shown a martyr's dauntless spirit; as a man hewas suffered to win the rare and high glory of a martyr's crown.

  Of Walter, and Henderson, and Sir Reginald Power--for Power hassucceeded only too early to his father's title and estates--I need sayno more. Their days from youth to maturity were linked together by anatural progress in all things charitable, and great, and good. Theydid not belie their early promise. The breeze of a happy life bore themgently onward, and they cast no anchor in its widening stream. Theywere brave and manly and honourab
le boys, and they grew up intohigh-minded and honourable men.

  I do not wish you to suppose that they had not their own bitter trialsto suffer, or that they were exempt in any degree from our commonsorrows. In that turbulent and restless period of life when thepassions are strong and the heart wild and wilful and full of pride,while, at the same time, the judgment is often weak and the thoughts areimmature and crude, they had (as we all have) to purchase wholesomeexperience at the price of suffering; to remember with shame somefollies, and mourn over some mistakes. In saying this, I only say thatthey were not faultless; which of us is? But, at the same time, I mayfairly say that we do not often meet with nobler or manlier boys andyouths than these; that the errors which they committed they humblyendeavoured by patience and carefulness to amend; that they used theirtalents well and wisely, striving to live in love and charity with allaround them; that above all they kept the fear of God before their eyesand never lost the freshness and geniality of early years, but kept "Theyoung lamb's heart amid the fall grown flocks;"--kept the heart ofboyhood taken up and purified in the powers of manhood. And this is thereason why the eye that sees them loves them, and the tongue that speaksof them blesses them. And when the end comes to them which comes toall; when--as though a child should trample out the sparks from a pieceof paper--death comes upon them and tramples out for ever their joys andsorrows, their hopes and fears--then, sure I am, that those who mournfor them, that those who cherish their memory and regret their loss,will neither be insincere nor few, and that they themselves will meetcalmly and gladly that Great Shadow, waiting and looking with surethough humble hope to a better and less transient life; to a sinless andunstained world; to the meeting with long lost friends; to the restwhich remaineth for the People of God.

  And here, gentle reader, let us bid them all farewell.

  THE END.