Anxiously did Ruth Dotropy await the return of Captain Bream to
Yarmouth, and patiently did she refrain, in the meantime, from
questioning Mrs Bright as to her history before marriage, for that good
woman's objection to be so questioned was quite sufficient to check her
sensitive spirit. But poor Ruth's enthusiastic hopes were doomed to
disappointment at that time, for, only a few days after the captain's
departure, she received a letter from him, part of which ran as
follows:--
"DEAR MISS RUTH,--I am exceedingly sorry and almost ashamed, to be
obliged to say that I am unable to return to Yarmouth for some weeks at
least. The fact is that I have for a long time been engaged in a piece
of business--a sort of search--which has caused me much anxiety and
frequent disappointment. My lawyer, however, now thinks he has hit on
the right clue, so that I have good hope of being successful. In the
meantime will you do your best to comfort the Miss Seawards in my
absence, and explain to them that nothing but necessity could make me
leave them in the lurch in this fashion," etcetera.
"How _very_ provoking!" exclaimed Ruth, with a pretty little frown on
her innocent face after reading the letter to her stately mother.
"Why provoking, dear?" asked Mrs Dotropy. "Surely we can enjoy the
fine air of Yarmouth without Captain Bream, and although the dear Miss
Seawards are very fond of him, they will not pine or lose their health
because of his absence for a short time. Besides, have they not that
wonderful theological library to divert them?"
"Yes, mother--it's not that, but I was _so_ anxious to find out--"
She stopped short.
"Find out what, child?"
"Well now, mother, I can _not_ keep it from you any longer. I will tell
you my little secret if you promise not to reveal it to any living
soul."
"How absurd you are, Ruth! Do you suppose that I shall go about the
streets proclaiming your secret, whatever it is, to Tom, Dick, and
Harry, even if it were worth telling, much less when it is probably not
worth remembering? Of course I might let it slip, you know, by accident
and when a thing slips there is no possibility of recovery, as I said
once to your dear father that time when he slipped off the end of the
pier into the water and had to be fished up by the waist-band of his
trousers with grappling-irons, I think they called them--at all events
they were very dangerous-looking things, and I've often argued with
him--though I hate argument--that they might have gone into his body and
killed him, yet he would insist that, being blunt, the thing was out of
the question, though, as I carefully explained to him, the question had
nothing to do with it--but it is useless arguing with you, Ruth--I mean,
it was useless arguing with your father, dear man, for although he was
as good as gold, he had a very confused mind, you know. What was it we
were talking about?--oh yes!--your secret. Well, what is it?"
With a flushed face and eager look, Ruth said, "Mother, I _cannot_ help
being convinced that Mrs Bright the fisherman's wife, is no other than
Captain Bream's lost sister!"
"If you cannot help being convinced, child, it is of no use my
attempting to reason with you. But why think of such nonsense? If she
is what you suppose, she must have been a Miss Bream before marriage."
"So she was!" exclaimed Ruth, with a look of triumph. I have found that
out--only I fear that is not proof positive, because, you know, although
not a common name, Bream is by no means singular.
"Well, but she would have been a lady--or--or would have had different
manners if she had been Captain Bream's sister," objected Mrs Dotropy.
"That does not follow," said Ruth, quickly. "The captain may have risen
from the ranks; we cannot tell; besides, Mrs Bright _is_ very refined,
both in manner and speech, compared with those around her. I was on the
point one day of asking if she had a brother, when she seemed to draw up
and cut the matter short; so I have had to fall back on my original plan
of trying to bring the two face to face, which would at once settle the
question, for of course they'd know each other."
"Dear child, why make such a mystery about it?" said Mrs Dotropy; "why
not tell the captain of your suspicion, and ask him to go and see the
woman?"
"Because it would be so cruel to raise his expectations, mother, and
then perhaps find that I was wrong. It would disappoint him so
terribly. But this reference to a `search' in his letter makes me feel
almost sure he is searching for this lost sister."
"Foolish child! It is a wild fancy of your romantic brain. Who ever
heard," said the mother, "of a lawyer being employed to search for a
sister? Depend upon it, this captain is in search of some deed,--a lost
will, or a--an old parchment or a document of some sort, perhaps
referring to a mismanaged property, or estate, or fortune, for things of
that kind are often seen in the newspapers; though how the newspapers
come to find out about them all is more than I can understand. I've
often wondered at it. Ah! your dear father used to say in his facetious
way that he was "lost in the _Times_," when he wanted to be let alone.
I don't mean advertised for as lost, of course, though he might have
been, for I have seen him lose his head frequently; indeed I have been
almost forced to the conclusion more than once that the _Times_ had a
good deal to do with your father's mental confusion; it told such awful
lies sometimes, and then a month or two afterwards would flatly
contradict them all by telling the truth--at least it was probably the
truth since it was the opposite of the lies; but it's of no use talking,
I always find that. What were you saying, child?"
"Well, mother, I was going to say," answered Ruth, with a sigh, "that I
must just have patience and be content to wait."
"Now you talk like the dear, good, sensible little thing that you are,"
said Mrs Dotropy, rising; "run, put on your hat and I'll walk with you
by the sea, or go visit the fisher-folk if you like--or the Miss
Seawards."
In this amiable frame of mind the mother and daughter set off to the
shore.
Ruth's patience was indeed tried more severely than she had anticipated,
for, whatever the search was in which Captain Bream had engaged, it
compelled him to remain in town much longer than he had intended.
Meanwhile the _Evening Star_ returned to port, and David Bright, with
Billy, Joe, and the rest of the crew, went to enjoy themselves in their
various ways during their brief holiday.
Mrs Bright chanced to be spending the afternoon with Mrs Joe Davidson
and her wonderful "babby" when the skipper and mate walked in upon them.
There were two little shrieks of joy; then the two wives were enfolded,
and for a few seconds lost to view, in the stupendous embrace of the two
fishermen, while the babby was, for the moment, absolutely forgotten!
But she took care not to be forgotten long. On recovering from her
first surprise she gave utterance to a howl worthy of a seaman's
daughter. Joe immediately seized her in his arms, and half smothered
her in a fond embrace, to which, apparently, she did not object.
Meanwhile little Billy stood looking on approvingly, with his hands in
his pockets and his booted legs wide apart.
"I wonder when somebody's a-goin' to pay some sort of attention to
_me_," he said after a minute or two.
"Why, Billy, I didn't see ye," cried Mrs Joe, holding out her hand;
"how are ye, puss in boots?"
"If it was any other female but yourself, Maggie, as said that, I'd
scorn to notice you," returned Billy, half indignant.
"My darling boy!" cried Mrs Bright, turning to her son and enfolding
him in her arms.
"Ah! that's the way to do it," responded Billy, submitting to the
embrace. "You're the old ooman as knows how to give a feller a good
hearty squeeze. But don't come it too strong, mother, else you'll put
me all out o' shape. See, daddy's a-goin' to show his-self off."
This last remark had reference to a small bundle which David Bright was
hastily untying.
"See here, Nell," he said, with a strange mixture of eagerness and
modesty, "I've joined 'em at last old girl. Look at that."
He unrolled a M.D.S.F. flag, which he had purchased from the skipper of
the mission smack.
"An' I've signed the pledge too, lass."
"Oh! David," she exclaimed, grasping her husband's right hand in both
of hers. But her heart was too full for more.
"Yes, Nell, I've had grace given me to hoist the Lord's colours in the
Short Blue, an' it was your little book as done it. I'd ha' bin lost by
now, if it hadn't bin for the blessed Word of God."
Again Nell essayed to speak, but the words refused to come. She laid
her head on her husband's shoulder and wept for joy.
We have said that David Bright was not by nature given to the melting
mood, but his eyes grew dim and his voice faltered at this point and it
is not improbable that there would have been a regular break-down, if
Joe's blessed babby had not suddenly come to the rescue in the nick of
time with one of her unexpected howls. As temporary neglect was the
cause of her complaint it was of course easily cured. When quiet had
been restored Mrs Bright turned to her son--"Now, Billy, my boy, I must
send you off immediately."
"But what if I won't go off--like a bad sky-rocket?" said the boy with a
doubtful expression on his face.
"But you'll have to go--and you'll be willing enough, too, when I tell
you that it's to see Miss Ruth Dotropy you are going."
"What!--the angel?"
"Yes, she's here just now, and wants to see you very much, and made me
promise to send you to her the moment you came home. So, off you go!
She lives with her mother in the old place, you know."
"All right, _I_ know. Farewell, mother."
In a few minutes Billy was out of sight and hearing--which last implies
a considerable distance, for Billy's whistle was peculiarly loud and
shrill. He fortunately had not to undergo the operation of being
"cleaned" for this visit, having already subjected himself to that
process just before getting into port. The only portions of costume
which he might have changed with propriety on reaching shore were his
long boots, but he was so fond of these that he meant to stick to them,
he said, through thick and thin, and had cleaned them up for the
occasion.
At the moment he turned into the street where his friends and admirers
dwelt, Ruth chanced to be at the window, while the Miss Seawards, then
on a visit to her mother, were seated in the room.
"Oh! the _darling_!" exclaimed Ruth, with something almost like a little
shriek of delight.
"Which darling--you've got so many?" asked her mother.
"Oh! Billy Bright, the sweet innocent--look at him; quick!"
Thus adjured the sisters ran laughing to the window, but the stately
mother sat still.
"D'you mean the boy with the boots on?" asked Jessie, who was
short-sighted.
"Yes, yes, that's him!"
"If you had said the boots with the boy in them, Jessie," observed Kate,
"you would have been nearer the mark!"
In a few minutes, Billy, fully alive to his importance in the ladies'
eyes, sat gravely in the midst of them answering rapid questions.
"You've not had tea, Billy, I hope," said Ruth, rising and ringing the
bell.
"No, miss, I haven't, an' if I had, I'm always game for two teas."
Soon Billy was engaged with bread, butter, cakes, and jam, besides other
luxuries, some of which he had never even dreamed of before.
"What an excellent appetite you have!" said Jessie Seaward, scarcely
able to restrain her admiration.
"Yes, ma'am," said Billy, accepting another bun with much satisfaction,
"we usually does pretty well in the Short Blue in that way, though we
don't have sich grub as this to tickle our gums with. You see, we has a
lot o' fresh air out on the North Sea, an' it's pretty strong air too--
specially when it blows 'ard. W'y, I've seed it blow that 'ard that it
was fit to tear the masts out of us; an' once it throw'd us right over
on our beam-ends."
"On what ends, boy?" asked Mrs Dotropy, who was beginning to feel
interested in the self-sufficient little fisherman.
"Our beam-ends, ma'am. The beams as lie across under the deck, so that
w'en we gits upon _their_ ends, you know, we're pretty well flat on the
water."
"How dreadful!" exclaimed Jessie; "but when that happens how can you
walk the deck?"
"We can't walk the deck, ma'am. We has to scramble along the best way
we can, holdin' on by hands and teeth and eyelids. Thank 'ee, miss, but
I really do think I'd better not try to eat any more. I feels
chock-full already, an' it might be dangerous. There's severe laws now
against overloadin', you know."
"No such laws in this house, Billy," said Ruth, with a laugh. "But now,
if you have quite done, I should like to put a few questions to you."
"Fire away, then, Miss," said the boy, looking exceedingly grave and
wise.
"Well, Billy," began Ruth, with an eager look, "I want to know something
about your dear mother."
She hesitated at this point as if uncertain how to begin, and the boy
sought to encourage her with--"Wery good, Miss, I knows all about _her_.
What d'ee want to ax me?"
"I want to ask," said Ruth, slowly, "if you know what your mother's name
was before she was married?"
Ruth did not as the reader knows, require to ask this question, but she
put it as a sort of feeler to ascertain how far Billy might be inclined
to assist her.
"Well, now, that _is_ a stumper!" exclaimed the boy, smiting his little
thigh. "I didn't know as she had a name afore she was married.
Leastwise I never thought of it or heerd on it, not havin' bin
acquainted with her at that time."
With a short laugh Ruth said, "Well, never mind; but perhaps you can
tell me, Billy, if your mother ever had a brother connected with the
sea--a sailor, I mean."
"Stumped again!" exclaimed the boy; "who'd have thought I was so
ignorant about my own mother? If she ever had sich a brother, he must
have bin drownded, for I never heerd tell of 'im."
"Then you never heard either your father or mother mention any other
name than Bright--I mean in connection with yourselves?" said Ruth in a
disappointed tone.
"Never, Miss, as I can reck'lect on. I would willin'ly say yes, to
please you, but I'd raither not tell no lies."
"That's right my good boy," said Mrs Dotropy, with a stately but
approving nod, "for you know where all liars go to."
"Yes, ma'am, an' I knows where liars _don't_ go to," returned Billy,
looking up with pious resignation, whereat the Miss Seawards and Ruth
burst into a laugh.
It must not be supposed that Billy meant to be profane, but he had taken
a dislike to Mrs Dotropy, and did not choose to be patronised by her.
As poor Ruth found that it was useless to pursue her investigations in
this direction further, she changed the subject to the North Sea
fishery, with the details of which her little friend was of course quite
conversant. Then she proposed to accompany Billy home.
"I want to make the acquaintance of your father," she said.
"Ah! he's a true blue _now_, he is," said Billy.
"Was your father not always a true blue?" asked Ruth, as they went along
the street together.
"Well, it ain't right for me to say ought agin my father--but--he's true
blue _now_, anyhow."
And Ruth found that the reformed drunkard was indeed "true blue," and
very glad to see her; nevertheless she obtained no information from him
on the subject she was so anxious about--not because he was
uncommunicative, but because Ruth, being very timid, had not courage to
open her lips upon it.
The shades of evening were beginning to descend when she rose to leave.
Both father and son offered to escort her home, but she declined the
offer with many thanks, and went off alone.