There was too much to do in seeing that Dick was not likely to suffer
from his long exposure for his father to say much to him that night.
But there was a little conversation between Dick and Arthur, who slept
in the same room.
It was after the candle was out, Arthur having received strict
injunctions to go quietly to bed and not disturb his brother, who was
said to be in a nice sleep and perspiring well.
This is what the doctor said, for he had been fetched and had felt
Dick's pulse. He had looked very grave and shaken his head, saying that
fever might supervene, and ended by prescribing a stimulus under another
name, and a hot bath.
"Just as if I hadn't sucked up water enough to last me for a month!"
Dick had said.
The people at the little hotel thought it unnecessary to send for a
doctor, and when he came the doctor thought so too; but he omitted to
make any remarks to that effect, contenting himself with looking very
grave, and treating Dick as if his was a very serious case indeed.
And now the patient was lying snugly tucked up in bed, with only his
nose and one eye visible, with the exception of a tuft of his hair, and
Arthur was undressing in the dark, and very carefully folding up his
clothes.
He had been deliberately undressing himself, brushing his hair, and
going generally through a very niggling performance for nearly half an
hour before Dick spoke, for the latter was enjoying the fun, as he
called it, "of listening to old Taff muddling about in the dark, instead
of jumping into bed at once."
At last, however, he spoke:
"I'm not asleep, Taff."
"Not asleep!" cried his brother. "What! haven't you been asleep?"
"No."
"What! not all the time I've been undressing?"
"No."
"Then it was very deceitful of you to lie there shamming."
"Didn't sham," said Dick.
"Yes, you did, and pretended that you were very ill."
"No, I didn't. I didn't want the doctor fetched."
"But why did you pretend to be asleep?"
"I didn't, I tell you. I only lay still and watched you fumbling about
and taking so long to undress."
"Oh, did you?" said Arthur haughtily. "Well, now lie still, sir, and go
to sleep. You are ill."
"No, I'm not," cried Dick cheerily; "only precious hot."
"Then if you are not ill you ought to be ashamed of yourself," said
Arthur pettishly; "causing papa so much anxiety."
"Why, I think I behaved well," said Dick, chuckling to himself. "If I
had taken you with me I should have given father twice as much trouble
and worry."
"Taken me! Why, I should not have gone," said Arthur haughtily; "and if
you had not been so fond of getting into low company all this would not
have happened."
"Get out with your low company! There was nothing low about those two
fishermen."
"I only call one of them a boy," said Arthur, yawning.
"Oh, very well: boy then. But I say, Taff, I wish you had been there."
"Thank you. I was much better at home."
"I mean while we were fishing. I caught such lovely mackerel, and a
magnificent Polly something--I forget its name--all orange and gold and
bronze, nine or ten pound weight."
"Stuff!" said Arthur contemptuously.
"But I did, I tell you."
"Then where is it?"
"Where is it? Oh, I don't know. When the steamer ran us down the fish
and the tackle and all went overboard, I suppose. I never saw it
again."
"Then you lost all the sprats," said Arthur sneeringly.
"Sprats! Get out, you sneering old Taff! You are disappointed because
you didn't go with us. Why, there was a big turbot, and a sole or two,
and a great skate with a prickly back, and gurnards and dog-fish."
"And cats?" sneered Arthur.
"No, there were no cats, Taff. I say, though, I wish you had been
there, only not when we got into trouble. I'll get Josh and Will to
take you next time we go."
"Next time you go!" echoed Arthur. "Why, you don't suppose that papa
will let you go again?"
"Oh, yes, I do," said Dick, yawning and speaking drowsily. "Because a
chap falls off a horse once, nobody says he isn't to ride any more.
You'll see: father will let me go. I don't suppose--we should--should--
what say?"
"I didn't speak," said Arthur haughtily. "There, go to sleep."
"Go to sleep!" said Dick. "No--not bit sleepy. I--I'm--very
comfortable, though, and--and--Ah!"
That last was a heavy sigh, and Arthur Temple lay listening to his
brother's deep regular breathing for some minutes, feeling bitter and
hurt at all that had taken place that day, and as if he had been thrust
into a very secondary place. Then he, too, dropped asleep, and he was
still sleeping soundly when Dick awoke, to jump out of bed and pull up
the blind, so that he could look out on the calm sea, which looked
pearly and grey and rosy in the morning sunshine. Great patches of mist
were floating here and there, hiding the luggers and shutting out
headlands, and everywhere the shores looked so beautiful that the lad
dressed hurriedly, donning an old suit of tweed, the flannels he had
worn the day before being somewhere in the kitchen, where they were hung
up to dry.
"I'd forgotten all about that," said Dick to himself. "I wonder where
Will Marion is, and whether he'd go for a bathe."
Dick looked out on the calm sea, and wondered how anything could have
been so awful looking as it seemed the night before.
"It must have been out there," he thought, as he looked at the sun-lit
bay, then at the engine-houses far up on the hills and near the cliff,
and these set him thinking about his father's mission in Cornwall.
"I wonder whether father will begin looking at the mines to-day!" he
said to himself. "I should like to know what time it is! I wonder
whether Will Marion is up yet, and--Hallo! what's this?"
Dick had caught sight of something lying on the table beside his
brother's neat little dressing-case--a small leather affair containing
brush, comb, pomatum, and scent-bottles, tooth-brushes, nail-brushes,
and the usual paraphernalia used by gentlemen who shave, though Arthur
Temple's face was as smooth as that of a little girl of nine.
Dick took up the something, which was of leather, and in the shape of a
porte-monnaie with gilt metal edges, and on one side a gilt shield upon
which was engraved, in flourishing letters, "AT."
"Old Taffs started a cigar-case," said Dick, bursting into a guffaw. "I
wonder whether--yes--five!" he added, as he opened the case and saw five
cigars tucked in side by side and kept in their places by a leather
band. "What a game! I'll smug it and keep it for ever so long. He
ought not to smoke."
Just then the handle of the door rattled faintly, the door was thrust
open, and as Dick scuffled the cigar-case into his breast-pocket Mr
Temple appeared, coming in very cautiously so as not to disturb his sick
son.
Dick did not know it, but his father had been in four times during the
night to lay a hand upon his forehead and listen to his breathing, and
he started now in astonishment.
"What, up, Dick?" he said in a low voice, after a glance at the bed,
where Arthur was sleeping soundly.
"Yes, father; I was going to have a bathe."
"But--do you feel well?"
"Yes, quite well, father. I'm all right."
Mr Temple looked puzzled for a few minutes, and then rubbed his ear,
half-amused, half vexed.
"Don't wake Arthur," he said. "Come along down and we'll have a walk
before breakfast."
"All right, father!" cried Dick smiling, and he followed his father out
of the room and down-stairs, where they met the landlord.
"All right again then, sir?" said the latter cheerily. "Ah! I thought
our salt-water wouldn't hurt him. Rather a rough ride for him, though,
first time. When would you like breakfast, sir?"
"At eight," said Mr Temple; and after a few more words he and Dick
strolled out upon the cliff.
"Now are you sure, Dick, that you are quite well?" said his father.
"Have you any feverish sensations?"
"No, father."
"You don't feel anything at all?"
"No, father. Yes, I do," cried Dick sharply.
"Indeed! what?" cried Mr Temple.
"So precious hungry."
"Oh!" said his father, smiling. "Well, here is one who will find us
some refreshment."
He pointed to a man with a large can, and they were willingly supplied
each with a draught of milk, after which they bent their steps towards
the pier.
"I have my glass, Dick," said Mr Temple, "and I can have a good look at
the shore from out there."
"Lend it to me, father," cried Dick eagerly; and quickly focussing it,
he directed it at a group of fishermen on their way down to the harbour.
"Yes, there they are," cried Dick eagerly. "There's Josh, and there's
Will. I say, father, I don't believe they had the doctor to them last
night," he added laughingly. "You were too frightened about me, you
know."
"The danger is behind you now, and so you laugh at it, my boy," replied
Mr Temple quietly; "but you did not feel disposed to laugh last night
when you were drifting in the boat. And, Dick, my boy, some day you may
understand better the meaning of the word anxiety."
"Were you very anxious about me last night, father?" said Dick eagerly.
"I was in agony, my boy," said Mr Temple quietly.
Dick's lips parted, and he was about to say something, but the words
would not come. His lip quivered, and the tears rose to his eyes, but
he turned away his head, thrust his hands down into his pockets, and
began to whistle, while his father's brow wrinkled, and, not seeing his
boy's face, nor reading the emotion the lad was trying to hide, his face
grew more and more stern, while a sensation of mingled bitterness and
pain made him silent for some little time.
They walked on in silence, till suddenly Mr Temple's eyes lit upon the
top of the gilt-edged cigar-case sticking out of Dick's pocket.
"What have you there, Dick?" he said rather sternly.
"Where, father?"
"In your pocket."
"Nothing, father. My knife and things are in the other clothes. Oh,
this!" he said, suddenly remembering the case, and turning scarlet.
"Yes," said Mr Temple severely, "that! Open it."
Dick took the case from his pocket slowly and opened it.
"I thought so," said Mr Temple sternly. "Cigars for a boy not sixteen!
Are you aware, sir, that what may be perfectly correct in a man is
often in a boy nothing better than a vice."
"Yes, father," said Dick humbly.
"So you have taken to smoking?"
"No, father."
"Don't tell me a falsehood, sir!" cried Mr Temple hotly. "How dare you
deny it when you have that case in your hand. Now, look here, sir: I
want to treat my boys as lads who are growing into men. I am not going
to talk to you about punishment--I don't believe in coarse punishments.
I want there to be a manly feeling of confidence between me and my
boys."
Dick winced at that word confidence, and he wanted to say frankly that
the case belonged to Arthur; but it seemed to him so mean to get out of
a scrape by laying the blame upon another; and, besides, he knew how
particular his father was about Arthur, and how he would be hurt and
annoyed if he knew that his brother smoked.
"I am more angry than I could say," continued Mr Temple; "and I suppose
I ought to take away that case, in which you have been foolish enough to
spend your pocket-money; but I will not treat my boys as if I were a
schoolmaster confiscating their playthings. Don't let me see that
again."
"No, father," said Dick, with a sigh of relief, though he felt very
miserable, and in momentary dread lest his father should ask him some
pointed question to which he would be bound to reply.
They walked on in silence for some minutes, and the beautiful morning
and grand Cornish scenery were losing half their charms, when Mr Temple
finished his remarks about the cigar-case with:
"Did you smoke yesterday, Dick?"
"No, father?"
"Were you going to smoke to-day?"
"No, father."
"Honour, Dick?"
"Honour, father, and I won't smoke till you tell me I may."
Mr Temple looked at him for a moment, and then nodded his satisfaction.
By this time they were close to the harbour, where, being recognised by
several of the fishermen, there was a friendly nod or two, and a smile
from first one and then another, and a hearty sing-song "Good-morning!"
before they reached the middle of the pier, close up to which the lugger
was moored. Josh and Will were upon deck discussing what was to be done
to the boat, partly stove in by the steamer on the previous evening;
whether to try and patch her up themselves or to let her go to the boat
hospital just beyond the harbour head, where old Isaac Pentreath, the
boat-builder, put in new linings and put out new skins, and supplied
schooners and brigs with knees or sheathing or tree-nail or copper bolt.
He could furnish a stranger with boat or yacht to purchase or on hire.
"Mornin', sir!" sang out Josh. "Mornin', Master Richard, sir! None the
worse for last night's work, eh?"
"No, I'm all right, Josh," said Dick. "Good-morning, Will! I say, you
lost all the fish and the tackle last night, didn't you?"
"We lost all the fish, sir; but the tackle was all right; a bit tangled
up, that's all."
"Oars is the worst of it," said Josh, "only they was old uns. Will and
me's got a good pair, though, from up at Pentreath's. Game out of a
French lugger as was wrecked."
"I want to have a look round at some of the old mine-shafts, my man,"
said Mr Temple. "Who can you tell me of as a good guide?"
"Josh, sir," said Will.
"Will, sir," said Josh.
"Josh knows all of them for three or four miles round."
"Not half so well as Will, sir. He's always 'vestigatin' of 'em," cried
Josh.
"You, my lad?" said Mr Temple, turning sharply on Will, whose brown
face grew red.
"Yes, sir; I have a look at them sometimes."
"Prospecting, eh?" said Mr Temple, smiling.
"We could both go if you like, sir," said Josh. "We could row you to
Blee Vor, and to Oldman's Wheal and Blackbay Consols and Dynan Reor, and
take you over the cliff to Revack and Rendullow and Saint Grant's."
"Why, Dick," said Mr Temple, "we have hit upon the right guides. When
will you be at liberty, my lad?"
"Any time, sir, you like. We ain't going out with, our boots for the
next few days."
"Not going out with your boots?" said Dick.
"Boots, not boots," said Josh, grinning. "I don't mean boots as you put
on your foots, but boots that you sail in--luggers, like this."
"Oh! I see," said Dick.
"A mussy me!" muttered Josh. "The ignoramusness of these here London
folk, to _be_ sure."
"Could you row me and--say, my two sons--to one of the old mining shafts
after breakfast this morning?"
"Think your uncle would mind, Will?" said Josh.
"No," replied Will.
"Of course you will charge me for the hire of the boat," said Mr
Temple; "and here, my son ought to pay his share of the damage you met
with last night;" and he slipped half a sovereign in Dick's hand--a coin
he was about to transfer to Josh, but this worthy waved him off.
"No, no!" he said; "give it to young Will here. It ain't my boot, and
they warn't my oars; and very bad ones they were."
"Here, Will, take it," said Dick.
"What for? No, I sha'n't take it," said Will. "The old oars were good
for nothing, and we should have cut them up to burn next week. Give
Josh a shilling to make himself a new gaff, and buy a shilling's worth
of snooding and hooks for yourself. Uncle Abram wouldn't like me to
take anything, I'm sure."
Mr Temple did not press the matter, but making a final appointment for
the boat to be ready, he returned with Dick to the inn, where they had
hardly entered the sitting-room with its table invitingly spread for
breakfast, when Arthur came down, red-eyed, ill-used looking, and
yawning.
"Oh, you're down first," he said. "Is breakfast ready? I've got such a
bad headache."
"Then you had better go and lie down again, my boy," said his father;
"nothing like bed for a headache."
"Oh, but it will be better when I have had some breakfast. It often
aches like this when I come down first."
"Try getting up a little earlier, Arthur," said Mr Temple. "There, sit
down."
The coffee and some hot fried fish were brought in just then, and Arthur
forgot his headache, while Dick seemed almost ravenous, his father
laughing at the state of his healthy young appetite, which treated
slices of bread and butter in a wonderfully mechanical manner.
"Your walk seems to have sharpened you, Dick," he said.
"Oh, yes, I was so hungry."
"Have you been for a walk?" said Arthur, with his mouth full, and one
finger on an awkward starchy point of his carefully spread collar.
"Walk? Yes. We've been down to the harbour."
"Making arrangements for a boat to take us to two or three of the old
mines."
"You won't go in a boat again--after that accident?" said Arthur,
staring.
"Oh, yes! Such accidents are common at the sea-side, and people do not
heed them," said Mr Temple. "I'm sorry you will not be well enough to
come, Arthur."
Dick looked across the table at him and laughed, emphasising the laugh
by giving his brother a kick on the leg; while Arthur frowned and went
on with his breakfast, clinging a little to a fancied or very slight
headache, feeling that it would be a capital excuse for not going in the
boat, and yet disposed to throw over the idea at once, for he was, in
spite of a few shrinking sensations, exceedingly anxious to go.
"Oh, by the way, Dick," continued Mr Temple, "I am just going to say a
few words more to you before letting the matter drop; and I say them for
your brother to hear as well."
Dick felt what was coming, and after a quick glance at Arthur, he hung
his head.
"I am taking your word about that cigar-case and its contents, and I
sincerely hope that you will always keep your promise in mind. A boy at
your age should not even dream of using tobacco. You hear what I am
saying, Arthur?"
"Yes, papa," said the latter, who was scarlet.
"Bear it in mind, then, too. I found Dick with a cigar-case in his
pocket this morning. I don't ask whether you were aware of it, for I do
not want to say more about the matter than to express my entire
disapproval of my boys indulging in such a habit."
"Now if Taff's half a fellow he'll speak up and say it was his
cigar-case," thought Dick.
But Arthur remained silently intent upon his coffee, while Mr Temple
dismissed the subject, and looked smilingly at his boys as the meal
progressed.
"Ten minutes, and I shall be ready to start, Dick," said Mr Temple,
rising from the table.
"I--I think I'm well enough to go, papa," said Arthur.
"Well enough! But your head?"
"Oh! it's better, much better now."
"But won't you be alarmed as soon as you get on the water? It may be a
little rough."
"Oh, I'm not afraid of the water!" said Arthur boldly; and then he
winced, for Dick gave him a kick under the table.
"Very well, then," said Mr Temple, "you shall go. But you can't go
like that, Arthur. I did not see to your clothes. Haven't you a suit
of flannels or tweeds?"
"No, papa."
"How absurd of you to come down dressed like that!"
Arthur coloured.
"You can't go in boats and climbing up and down rocks in an Eton jacket
and white collar. Here, Dick, lend him a suit of yours."
"Yes, father," said Dick, who was enjoying what he called the fun.
"Let me see; you have a cap, have you not?"
"No, papa; only my hat."
"What! no straw hat?"
"No, papa."
"My good boy, how can you be so absurd? Now, ask your own common
sense--is a tall silk-napped hat a suitable thing to wear boating and
inspecting mines?"
"It--it's a very good one, papa," replied Arthur, for want of something
better to say.
"Good one! Absurd! Velvet is good, but who would go clambering up
cliffs in velvet!"
"Taff would if he might," said Dick to himself, as he recalled his
brother's intense longing for a brown silk-velvet jacket, such as he had
seen worn by one of his father's friends.
"Dick, go with your brother to the little shop there round the corner.
I saw straw hats hanging up. Buy him one. I'm going to write a letter.
There, I'll give you a quarter of an hour."
Mr Temple left the room, and as Arthur jumped up, scarlet with
indignation, to pace up and down, Dick laid his face upon his arm in a
clear place and began to laugh.
"It's absurd," said Arthur in indignant tones. "Your clothes will not
fit me properly, and I hate straw hats."
"I wouldn't go," said Dick, lifting his merry face.
"Yes," cried Arthur furiously, "that's just what you want, but I shall
go."
"All right! I should like you to come. Go and slip on my flannels;
they're sure to be dry by now."
"Slip on your rubbishy old flannels!" cried Arthur contemptuously; "and
a pretty guy I shall look. I shall be ashamed to walk along the cliff."
"Nobody will notice you, Taff," said Dick. "Come, I say, look sharp,
here's nearly five minutes gone."
"And what's that about the cigars?" said Arthur furiously. "You stole
my case."
"I only took it for a bit of fun," said Dick humbly. "I did not think
father would have noticed it. You see he thinks it is me who smokes."
"And a good job too! Serve you right for stealing my case."
"But you might have spoken up and said it was yours," said Dick.
"I daresay I should," said Arthur, loftily, "if you had behaved fairly;
but now--"
"I say, boys," cried Mr Temple, "I shall not wait."
"Here, you go and slip on my flannels," said Dick. "I'll go and buy you
a hat. If it fits me it will fit you."
"Get a black-and-white straw," said Arthur. "I won't wear a white.
Such absurd nonsense of papa!"
"Not to let you go boating in a chimney-pot!" said Dick, half to
himself, as he hurried off. "What a rum fellow Taff is!"
Unfortunately for the particular young gentleman there were no
black-and-white hats, so Dick bought a coarse white straw with black
ribbon round it, and then seized the opportunity--as they sold
everything at the little shop, from treacle to thread, and from bacon
and big boots to hardware and hats--to buy some fishing-hooks and
string, finding fault with the hooks as being soft and coarse, but the
man assured him that they were the very best for the sea, so he was
content.
"See what a disgusting fit these things are!" cried Arthur, as his
brother entered.
"Yes; you do look an old guy, Taff," cried Dick maliciously. "Ha! ha!
ha! why, they've shrunk with being dried. Here, let's pull the legs
down. You've put your legs through too far."
"There! Now what did I tell you?" cried Arthur, angrily. "Look at that
now. I distinctly told you to bring a black-and-white straw; I can't
wear a thing like that."
"But they had no black and whites," said Dick.
"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Arthur; "they've plenty, and you didn't
remember."
"Now, are you ready?" said Mr Temple.
"Yes, papa; but look here," began Arthur in a depressing voice.
"I was looking," said Mr Temple; "I congratulate you upon looking so
comfortable and at your ease. Now you can fish, or climb, or do
anything. Mind you write home to-night for some things to be sent down.
Come away."
Mr Temple went out of the room, and Dick executed a sort of triumphant
war-dance round his brother, who frowned pityingly and stalked to the
corner of the room, with his nose in the air, to take up his tasselled,
silver-mounted cane.
"No, you don't," said Dick, snatching the cane away and putting it back
in the corner. "No canes to-day, Dandy Taff, and no gloves. Come
along."
He caught his brother's arm, thrust his own through, and half dragged,
half thrust him out of the place to where his father was waiting.
"Never mind your gloves, Arthur," said the latter dryly, "or if you
particularly wish to keep your hands white, perhaps you had better take
care of your face as well, and borrow a parasol."
Arthur reddened and thrust his gloves back into his pockets, as he
followed his father down to the little pier; but he was obliged to raise
his straw hat from time to time, and smooth his well pomatumed hair,
ignorant of the fact that his every act was watched by his brother, who
could not refrain from laughing at the little bits of foppishness he
displayed.