"Had anybody told me when I came to this school that three years would
so rapidly pass by, I would not have believed them," said Ernest,
addressing Ellis, Buttar, and Bouldon, as the four old friends were
walking up and down the playground, ready to form for proceeding to
church the last Sunday they were to spend together at Grafton Hall
before the summer holidays. "I should have been glad to have remained
here another half, or even a year, but my father wishes me to read with
a tutor whose exclusive occupation it is to prepare fellows for India;
so I am to go to him in a few weeks. I intend to read hard, for I am
resolved not to be idle wherever I go."
"Oh, I envy you!" exclaimed Bouldon, "for I know that you will get on;
and I wish you may, that you may come back again safe and sound to old
England."
"Oh, I must not think of coming back for years, I fear," answered
Ernest. "The less one calculates in that way the better. I suspect
that people are too apt to neglect the present when they allow their
thoughts to dwell too much on the future. The great thing is, as my
father says, to do our duty during the present, and to enjoy life as it
was intended that we should enjoy it, and to allow the future to take
care of itself. I do not mean to say that we are to neglect the future,
but that we are not to fancy always that the future is to bring forth so
much more happiness than the present time can afford. You understand
what I mean, or rather what my father means. Now, Gregson is an example
to the point. See how happy he always is. He is happy in doing his
lessons, because he gives his whole mind to them; and though his talents
are not brilliant, he always does them well. Then the moment they are
done, he turns to his favourite pursuits. Then he is as happy as he can
desire to be in this life. He is not idle for a moment; every book he
opens on natural history gives him pleasure; every walk he takes he
finds something new and delightful. The birds of the air, the beasts of
the field, the creeping things on the earth and under the earth, the
trees, the flowers, their numberless inhabitants, all are matters of
intense interest to him. He cannot look into a horse-pond without
finding subjects for study for days together. Every stream is a mine of
wealth; and as for the ocean the smallest portion affords objects the
study of which is inexhaustible. Depend upon it, that it would be worth
living for the sake of enjoying the study of natural history alone.
Then see what vast fields of interest does each branch of science
exhibit. The more I inquire into these matters, the more convinced I am
that life ought to be a very delightful state of existence, and that it
is our own fault if it is not so."
Thus Ernest gave expression to his opinions. He laid considerable
stress on mental occupation, but he did not altogether forget that man
is susceptible of a very considerable amount of physical enjoyment,
which he is too apt, through his own folly, to lose. It is not often
that lads of Ernest's age think as he did, nor is it often that those
who do have listeners so ready and eager to imbibe his opinions.
The signal was given, the boys fell into order, and marched off to
church. It is matter for thought, and solemn thought too, when one
feels that one is visiting a place of interest for the last time; but
there should be something peculiarly affecting when one kneels for the
last time in a place of worship where one has knelt for years, and
offered up our prayers and petitions, and sung our songs of praise, to
that great and good Being who is our life, our protector, our support,
united with many hundreds of our fellow-creatures. Perhaps with not one
of them may we ever kneel or pray again, but yet one and all of them we
shall meet at that great and awful day when we stand before the
judgment-seat of Heaven. How shall we all have been employing ourselves
in the meantime? What will then be our doom? How vain, how frivolous
will earthly ambition, wealth, or honours appear!
Such thoughts as these passed rapidly through Ernest's mind as he sat
and listened to the good, the kind, and faithful minister of the parish.
Ernest had many last things to do before he left school. He had to play
his last game of cricket, to climb the gymnastic pole for the last time,
to take a walk over his favourite downs, to pay many last visits to rich
and poor alike. John Hodge was not forgotten. The assistance given by
Ellis, and him, and Buttar helped the poor man along till his strength
returned, and once more, to his great satisfaction, he was able to
resume work. Ernest could not feel altogether sad: that would not have
been natural; and yet he was truly sorry to part from his friends and
schoolfellows, and from the old familiar scenes he had known so long.
He had, however, plenty of work to keep his mind employed. There were
examinations to be gone through, speeches to be made, and prizes to be
bestowed. The parents of the boys, and the residents in the
neighbourhood who took an interest in the school, were invited to
attend. All the examinations which admitted of it were _viva voce_, and
took place in the lecture-halls, to which the visitors repaired as they
felt interested in the subject, or in the boys who were undergoing their
examinations. Several people followed Ernest through the whole course
of his examinations, and were much struck by the clear, ready way in
which he replied to all the questions put to him, and the evidence he
gave of having entirely mastered all the subjects he had studied. All
those capable of judging were convinced that, numerous as were the
subjects he had studied, he was in no way crammed, but was thoroughly
grounded in them all.
After the examinations, the visitors and the boys assembled under a
large awning, which had been spread for the purpose. At one end was a
raised platform, where several of the most influential gentlemen, many
of them clergymen, and others, as well as the head-master, took their
seats with the boys of the first class, while the rest were arranged
below. First an oration was spoken by several boys, candidates for a
prize, to be bestowed on the best orator. Ernest, Buttar, Ellis, and
several others tried for it. All spoke well, but Ernest was found to
have double as many votes as any other boy. Then the gentleman who had
been placed in the chair got up, and expressed his approbation of the
system on which the school was managed, and his satisfaction at finding
the very great progress it had made; and he concluded--"I consider those
boys truly fortunate who are under such a master, and in so delightful
an abode." Then the names of the boys who had gained prizes were called
over, and one after the other, with looks of satisfaction, ascended the
platform to receive them. Ernest came down literally loaded with
prizes. He looked surprised as well as pleased. He was first in
everything. The reason that he was so was simple enough. He had
bestowed the same attention and energy on all the subjects he had
studied; he had given them his entire mind; all his talents had been
employed on them; consequently, he could scarcely fail to obtain a
similar success in all.
The prizes consisted chiefly of books, mathematical instruments, and
drawing materials. After they were distributed, the chairman once more
rose, and congratulating Ernest on his success, complimented the Doctor
on having educated so promising a pupil and on the admirable discipline
of the school itself.
The visitors and boys repaired to the large dining-hall, where a
handsome dinner was spread.
"Why, Doctor, you have given us a magnificent feast," exclaimed Mr
Bouldon, who had come to see his son. "I suspect you youngsters don't
get such a dinner as this every day."
"But indeed we do," shouted out Tom Bouldon. "Ask the Doctor; he'll not
tell you an untruth."
"Your son states what is the case," replied the Doctor, "except,
perhaps, with regard to quantity--we have certainly the same quality of
food every day, and served in the same way. My object is to make my
boys gentlemen in all the minor as well as in all the more important
points of breeding. I believe that it is important for this object to
give them from the first gentlemanly habits which can never be
eradicated. They all, I hope, love their homes for their domestic ties,
but for no other reason do I wish them to prefer any place to their
school. The result is, I rejoice to say, that we have no Black Monday
at Grafton Hall, and that I see as happy, smiling faces in most
instances at the commencement of a half-year as I do at the end of it,
when they are about to quit me."
Ernest had never made an impromptu speech before, but he could not now
resist the impulse he felt, so rising, he exclaimed--
"What the Doctor says, ladies and gentlemen, is very true. I, as the
head of the school, and just about to leave, may assuredly be considered
good evidence. He has made the school a happy home to us all; he has
made us like learning by the pleasant way in which he has imparted
knowledge to us, at the same time that he has shown us the importance of
working out most branches of it for ourselves. He has invariably
treated us justly; and while he has acted towards us with strictness, he
has also never failed in his kindness under all circumstances, and at
all times. He has always been indulgent when he could, and has done
everything to insure our health, our comfort, and amusement; I cannot
say more. It is my belief that Grafton Hall is one of the happiest and
best schools in England, and that Dr Carr has made it so. Heaven bless
you, sir."
Amidst thundering rounds of applause from all his schoolfellows Ernest
sat down. The Doctor was very much affected at the way Ernest had
spoken. The party at last broke up. The next day the boys went home,
and Ernest found himself no longer, properly speaking, a schoolboy.
Still he was in no hurry to shake off his schoolboy's habits and
feelings. After spending a few weeks at home, he went down to his new
tutor at Ryde, in the Isle of Wight. The house stood high up,
overlooking Portsmouth and Spithead, where England's proud fleets are
wont to assemble at anchor. It was the yachting season, and the place
was full of visitors.
The day after his arrival he went out, and one of the first people he
encountered was Ellis. The friends were delighted to meet. The latter
soon explained the cause of his being there. His father and mother had
come to Ryde, and had secured a very nice little yacht for him, small
compared to the large vessels which form the navy of the different
clubs, but quite large enough to sail about in every direction on the
waters of the Solent.
"It was one of my favourite amusements," said Ellis. "In truth it was
the only one, till you taught me to like cricket and other games at
school. Now you must come and learn about yachting with me."
Ernest said that he should like it much, but that he must read hard with
his tutor.
"The very thing to help your reading," pleaded Ellis. "Ask him, and if
he is a sensible man he will tell you that if you take a trip now and
then on the water it will refresh your brains, and you will be able to
read all the better for it."
To Ernest's surprise, his tutor fully agreed with the advice Ellis had
given him, and it was not long before he found himself on the deck of
the "Fairy." Such was the name Ellis had given to his yacht. Scarcely
had Ernest stepped on board than he set to work to make himself
acquainted with all the details of the vessel. The use of the helm and
the way the wind acts on the sails he understood clearly. He had
studied theoretically the principle of balancing the sails with the
wind, and also the mode in which the water acts on the hull. He had
read about leeway, and headway, and sternway; and now that he had an
opportunity of examining the practical working of these theories, he
hoped to master the subject thoroughly, so as never to forget it, and to
be able, when called on, to make it of use. At first the old sailor,
who acted as the master of the yacht, and for that matter crew also, for
there was only a boy besides, seemed inclined to look on Ernest as a
green hand, and to turn up his nose at him. Ernest, however, did not
show that he perceived this, and went about very quietly, gaining all
the information he required.
"What is this rope called?" he asked of the old man while Ellis was
below, before he got under way.
"The main sheet, sir," was the answer.
Ernest made no other remark, but he examined where one end was secured;
he ran his eye along it from block to block, and calculated how much of
it was coiled away.
"These are the shrouds, I know; and this?" he asked.
"The backstay, sir," replied the old man.
He underwent a thorough examination.
"And this, I see, must be the topmast backstay; and this the forestay;
and that the topmast stay. Is it not so?" he asked.
Thus he went on, rapidly learning not only the names, but the uses of
all the ropes, and of everything on deck. By the time Ellis returned on
deck he was surprised to find that Ernest had already made himself at
home on board, and, as he said, was ready to lend a hand to pull and
haul if required.
"The tide will soon have made, and we shall be able to get to the
westward," said Ellis, looking about him. "We'll set the mainsail,
Hobbs, and be all ready for a start."
Preparations were accordingly made to set the mainsail. The throat was
hoisted nearly up; the peak was half hoisted; then the jib was bent on,
and hauled out to the bowsprit end.
"Come, Ernest, bowse away on the bobstay," cried Ellis.
Ernest was for a moment at fault, but when he saw his friend hauling
away on a rope forward, he took hold of it, and soon guessed its object.
"Let us tauten the bowsprit shrouds a bit," said Ellis. Ernest knew
what that meant. The jib was hoisted and bowsed well up, then the
backstays, and the topmast-stays were tautened. "Now, Hobbs, go to the
helm; we'll get the foresail up." Ernest helped Ellis to hoist away on
the fore-halliards; the old master overhauled the main sheet while Ellis
overhauled the lee-runner and tackle. The throat he settled a little,
that is, he let the inner end of the gaff drop a little, and then he and
Ernest gave all their strength to hoisting the peak of the mainsail well
up. The mainsail now stood like a board; the wind was light, so the
gaff-topsail was set, and then, as Ellis wished to cast off-shore, he
watched till the wind came on the port or left side of the foresail.
Instantly he let go the moorings, and the Fairy's head turned towards
the north, or across channel; the jib sheet was hauled in, so was the
main sheet; the foresail was let draw, and the little vessel, feeling
the full force of the breeze, glided swiftly along through the sparkling
waters.
Ernest clapped his hands. "Oh, this is truly delightful," he exclaimed,
after they had been skimming along for some time, enjoying the view of
Spithead, where several large ships were at anchor; of Ryde, climbing up
its steep hill; of Cowes, to the westward, and the wooded shores of the
Solent extending in the same direction as far as the eye could reach.
The wind freshened up again, and they had a magnificent sail, looking
into Cowes harbour and standing through the roads, where some dozen fine
yachts were at anchor, and some twenty more cruising about in sight.
They passed Calshot Castle on the north, and beat on till they sighted
Hurst Castle, at the entrance of the Solent passage to the westward,
while the little town of Yarmouth appeared on the island shore, and
Lymington on the mainland.
"The wind is likely to fall towards the evening, and if you young
gentlemen wishes to get home before night, we had better be about," said
old Hobbs, looking up at the sky on every side.
Although Ellis was very fond of anchoring whenever he felt inclined, or
the tide and wind made it convenient, and of sleeping on board, or of
keeping under way all night, Ernest was anxious to get back to read
during the evening; the helm was therefore put up, the main sheet was
eased away, and the "Fairy" ran off to the eastward before the wind.
Ellis was at the helm. "As we are in a hurry, we will make more sail,
and see how fast the little barkie can walk along; Hobbs, get the
square-sail on her."
"Ay, ay, sir," was the reply; and the sail being hauled up from forward,
was bent on to its yard, and soon being swayed up, presented a fine wide
field of snowy canvas to the breeze. Thus the little craft bowled
along, till once more she approached her moorings off Ryde. Then the
square-sail was taken in, and the jib being let fly, Ellis put down the
helm, and shot her up to the buoy, which old Hobbs, boat-hook in hand,
stood ready to catch hold of and haul on board.
"I have never enjoyed a day more," exclaimed Ernest; "now I must go home
and read as hard as I can to make up for lost time."
"You will read all the better, as I said, and come as often as you can;
we will do our best to get back so that you may not lose all the day."
This was said by Ellis as they parted.
The next time Ernest came down to sail in the "Fairy" he found Arden,
whom Ellis, having met at Ryde, had invited to join them. Arden was a
very nice little fellow; the only and treasured child of his father and
mother, and had always been delicately nurtured; too delicately, I
suspect, for he had been prevented from engaging in many of the manly
exercises which are so important in fitting a boy to meet the rough
usage of the world. He could thus neither climb nor swim, and as Ellis
said, was very much like a fish out of water on board a boat, though he
was very unlike one in the water. He was, however, now anxious to
remedy some of his defects, and finding sailing pleasant, was glad to
accompany Ellis whenever he asked him.
The old schoolfellows got on board, as merry and happy as lads who feel
conscious that they have been working hard and doing their duty can be.
Those, I hold, who are viciously employed and neglecting their duty can
never be happy. The wind was from the same quarter as the last time
Ernest was on board, though there was rather more of it. The "Fairy"
having been got under way, stood over to the north shore, and then
tacked and stood towards Cowes. As she bounded buoyantly over the
waves, the spirits of the three schoolfellows rose high. Ernest added
considerably to his stock of nautical knowledge, while Arden was
exercising his muscles by climbing up the rigging, hanging on to the
shrouds by his hands, and swinging himself backwards and forwards. All
this time the breeze freshening, the gaff-topsail had just been stowed;
old Hobbs was at the helm, and Ellis himself was to windward, when
Arden, in the pride of his newly-acquired accomplishment, as he was
running forward on the lee-side, as he said, to take a swing on the
shrouds, his foot slipped, he lost his balance, and before he could
clutch a rope, over the slight bulwarks he went, head foremost into the
water. Ernest was sitting on the same side of the little vessel. Quick
as thought, before Ellis, who had been looking to windward, knew what
had happened, or Arden could cry out, Ernest sprang overboard. He knew
that every instant would increase the difficulty of saving his friend:
he threw off neither shoes nor jacket; there was no time for that.
Arden came to the surface, and stretching out his arms towards him
shrieked out, "Save me, save me! O my mother!" Ernest struck out
bravely through the water towards him, while the little cutter flew on;
it seemed leaving them far behind: such was not the case, however. Old
Hobbs giving a look behind his shoulder to see where they were, put down
the helm, that he might put the vessel about as rapidly as possible, and
heave-to, while Ellis could jump into the punt to their rescue.
Ernest had no time to consider what was to be done; his first aim was to
get hold of Arden and to keep his head above water. The poor lad,
unaccustomed to the water, quickly lost all presence of mind, and was
striking out wildly and clutching at the air. Ernest saw the danger
there would be in approaching him, and therefore, instead of swimming
directly for him, took a circuit and then darted rapidly at him from
behind. Grasping him by the collar, by a strong turn of his arm he
threw him on his back, and then he held him while he himself trod water,
and assisted himself to float with his left hand.
"Don't be alarmed, now, Arden, my dear fellow; keep your arms quiet and
you will float easily," he exclaimed. "There, just look up at the sky;
now you find that your face is perfectly out of the water; never mind if
your head sinks a little; steady, so, all right, old fellow."
With words to give confidence and encouragement, Ernest tried to calm
poor Arden's fears; yet he himself turned many an anxious glance towards
the yacht.
The instant Ellis had heard Arden's cry and saw Ernest in the water, he
leaped up and hauled the punt, towing astern, up alongside.
"Wait, sir, wait till we are about," said Hobbs; "you'll be nearer to
them then, and on the same side they are."
Ellis saw this, and as the cutter came round he jumped into the punt and
shoved off. Ernest saw his friend coming. He began to feel more
anxious than before. The punt was small, and he was afraid, should
Arden struggle, she also might be capsized. He therefore urged Arden to
remain perfectly quiet, while Ellis hauled him in. The moment Ellis
reached them he threw in his oars, and wisely leaning over the bows,
caught hold of Arden's collar and lifted him partly out of the water,
while Ernest swam round to the stern and climbed in over it. He now was
able to come to Ellis's assistance, and together they hauled in poor
Arden, more frightened than hurt, over the bows. They soon made him
safe in the little cabin of the cutter, with his clothes stripped off,
and he himself wrapped up in a blanket. The clothes quickly dried in
the warm sun and air, and he was able to be the first to describe his
accident to his parents, and to speak of Ernest's gallant conduct in
saving him.
"My dear Arden," replied Ernest, when the former was overwhelming him
with thanks, "I learned to swim, and know how to retain my presence of
mind. Had you been able, you would have done the same for me; so say no
more about it."
Young Arden did not say much more about it, nor did Mr Arden to Ernest
himself; but he had powerful friends in India, and when, after some
months Bracebridge arrived there, he found himself cordially welcomed,
and placed in a position where he had full scope for the exercise of his
talents.
For some time Ernest Bracebridge had not heard from any of his old
schoolfellows. War was raging. His regiment, with others, was
appointed to attack a stronghold of the enemy. He led on his men with a
gallantry for which he had been ever conspicuous, but they met with a
terrific opposition. Almost in vain they struggled on. Again and again
they were beaten back, and as often encouraged by their brave leader,
they charged the foe. At length he fell. His men rallied round him to
carry him off, when there was a loud cheer--a fresh regiment was coming
to their support. Ernest looked up. They were Queen's troops. He saw
the face of the officer who led them, as, waving his sword, he dashed
by. Ernest shouted, "Ellis--Ellis!" The enemy could not stand the
shock of the British bayonets. They fled in confusion. Ernest heard
the cry, "They run--they run." Then he sunk, exhausted from loss of
blood.
At length the blood was stanched, a cordial was poured down his throat,
and looking up, he saw the countenance of his old friend Edward Ellis
bending anxiously over him. Ellis bore him to his tent, and nursed him
with the care of a brother. Together in many a hard-fought fight they
served their country, and often talked of their old schoolfellows, of
the kind Doctor, and of the happy days they spent at Grafton Hall.