I. JIMMY'S DUCK
II. OUT OF DOCK
III. DOWN CHANNEL
IV. A LESSON IN SEAMANSHIP
V. UNDER TOPSAILS
VI. A FAIR WIND
VII. ADRIFT
VIII. THE 'CHAMPLAIN,' SEALER
IX. A TRIAL OF SPEED
X. HOVE TO
XI. AMONG THE HOLLISCHACKIE
XII. PICKING UP THE BOATS
XIII. ON THE BEACH
XIV. GOOD WORK
XV. IN PERIL
XVI. STICKINE MAKES A DEAL
XVII. THE PLEDGE REDEEMED
XVIII. TREACHERY
XIX. THE SEALERS' RECKONING
XX. THE NEXT MEETING
XXI. IN VANCOUVER
XXII. THE RESULT OF THE CHOICE
*LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS*
"'TELL YOUR SKIPPER THAT IF EVER I FIND HIS SCHOONER INSIDE OUR LIMITS
AGAIN I'LL HAVE MUCH PLEASURE IN SINKING HER" (missing from book) . . .
_Frontispiece_
"'CHRISS, ARE YOU HURT?'"
"'ARE YOU TWO LADS GOING OFF TO THE BARQUE OUT THERE?'"
"GLANCING OVER HIS SHOULDER, SAW THE INDIAN STILL CROUCHING MOTIONLESS,
RIFLE IN HAND"
"AS HE HOPPED ABOUT THE DECK, APPLEBY LAUGHED UPROARIOUSLY"
"'I'VE COME FOR THE TWO LADS YOU PICKED UP.'"
*IN THE MISTY SEAS*
*CHAPTER I*
*JIMMY'S DUCK*
"The sea!" said Bluey, the Nova Scotian, sitting up on his pillow. "Oh,
yes. It's kind of pretty, but the only use I've got for it is for
bathing in."
There was laughter and a growl of disapproval from two beds in a corner
of the dormitory, for nobody could go to sleep at nine o'clock,
especially on the last night of the term, though retiring at that hour
was compulsory at Sandycombe School. Pearson, the assistant master, had
not, however, come round as yet to turn the lights out, and the gas-jet
blinked fitfully in the big wire cage which apparently protected it from
unlawful experiments. It did not, however, do so in reality, because
Niven had discovered that the cage could be unscrewed, and it was not
difficult to curtail the hour of preparation in the morning and evening
by blowing strenuously down the pipe in turn. There were, of course,
risks attached to this, but Niven had pointed out that anybody caught at
the operation would suffer in a good cause, and it provided work for the
Sandycombe plumber, who was voted a good fellow because he would smuggle
in forbidden dainties for a consideration.
"The sea," said Appleby, "is everything that's fine. What do you know
about it, Bluey?"
"Well," said the Nova Scotian in his slowest drawl, "I do know quite a
little. You see, ours is a kind of hard country, and most of our folks
go in sea now and then when they can't do better. Sometimes it's
fishing way out on the Grand Banks where you got lost in a fog in the
dory boats and starve before the schooner finds you, and if you don't
it's quite likely a liner steaming twenty knots runs bang over you. Or
it's carrying dried cod south in little schooners in winter time, with
your long boots stuffed with straw to keep your feet from freezing,
while you run for it under a trysail that's stiff with ice, with a
full-size blizzard screaming behind you. No, sir. Going to sea isn't
any kind of picnic, and that's why I'm sorry for Niven. The fellows who
wrote those books 'bout cutting out pirates and catching slavers are
dead, and it's 'bout time they were."
"Bluey's not going to stop to-night. Throw a pillow at him, somebody,"
said Niven, and there was a thud as the Nova Scotian's slipper, which
was quicker than the pillow, alighted within an inch of the speaker's
head.
Niven, however, took it good-naturedly, and he would have resented a
better shot less than the remarks which had preceded it. He was going
to sea, and had been describing his apprentice's uniform, and the life
he fancied he was to lead on board a sailing ship, to an appreciative
audience. His contentment had only one alloy, and that was the fact
that Appleby, who had read Marryat and others with him under a gorse
bush on sunny afternoons when he was presumed to be playing cricket, was
not coming with him too. Nobody, however, was apparently willing to pay
Appleby's premium, and Niven pinned his last hope on the possibility of
his comrade being able to ship on the same vessel as ordinary seaman.
Appleby, whom Niven privately considered somewhat slow and
over-cautious, did not appear very enthusiastic about the scheme.
"To your kennels!" said somebody, and there was a footfall on the
stairway, while two cots rattled as a couple of scantily-attired forms
alighted upon them with a flying leap. They had been lying prone upon
the floor giving a realistic representation of Niven swimming ashore
with the captain in his teeth, though the lad who played the part of
skipper protested vigorously that there was no necessity for his being
grievously bitten.
"That was fine," said somebody. "When Pearson's gone we'll have it
again. You could pour some water on to him first to make it more real."
"Then," said the skipper, "you'll get somebody else in the place of me.
It was a good deal nicer the last time I was nibbled by a ferret, and
I'm not going home with hydrophobia to please any of you."
After this there was silence whilst the footsteps grew nearer, and
presently the assistant master came into the room.
"You are all here?" he said as he swept his glance from bed to bed.
Then he gave a little sigh of relief, for he had a good deal to do that
night, and they were all there, and apparently very sleepy, while it was
not his fault that he did not see that two of them wore their outdoor
clothes under their night gear. Appleby and Niven had business on hand,
and they had discovered that with the aid of contributions levied from
their comrades it was possible to lay out a suit of clothing that
sufficed to pass a hasty inspection on their chairs. Pearson, however,
glanced round again, for he had been taught that there was need for
greater watchfulness when his charges were unusually quiet, and then
turned out the gas.
"Good-night, boys. If there is any breach of rules some of you will not
go home to-morrow," he said.
Two minutes later everybody was wide awake again, and a voice was raised
in a corner.
"Let's have a court-martial and try Bluey for conduct unbecoming an
officer and a gentleman," it said. "You'll be president, Appleby, and
we'll make Niven executioner."
"Sorry," said Niven, "but we can't. You see, Appleby and I have got
another assize on to-night. We're going to put an _habeas corpus_ on
Tileworks Jimmy's duck."
"More fools you!" said Bluey. "I'm sorry, too, because I've a few
fixings handy that would double the court-martial up. Anyway, you'll
only catch red-hot trouble instead of Jimmy's duck."
"What's that about a duck?" asked a lad who had come up in the middle of
the term, and a comrade proceeded to enlighten him.
"It is by this time ancient history, and it may have been a drake," he
said. "Anyway, this is Appleby's story. He stays here in the holidays,
you know, and he made a catapult thing during the last ones."
"It wasn't," said Appleby. "It was a crossbow, and Pearson thought so
much of it that he took it from me."
"Well," said the other, "Appleby went out shooting, and shot a wild
duck, but it was a tame one, and Tileworks Jimmy's. Now if he'd been
wiser he'd have buried it, but he took it to Jimmy's house. Jimmy
wasn't in, and Appleby forgot, but a few days later Jimmy came round to
see the Head, and wanted ten shillings for his duck. Took an affidavit
that it would have won prizes at a dog show anywhere. The Head, who
should have kicked him out, gave him five shillings, and stopped it out
of Appleby's pocket-money, and Appleby went back to Jimmy's to ask for
his duck. Jimmy told him how nice it was, and that he'd eaten the thing
to save it going bad. That, I think, is Q.E.D. Appleby."
Appleby laughed softly. "You're not very far out, but it wasn't the
duck but the principle of the thing that worried me," he said. "The one
I shot was a common one worth one-and-six, and I didn't even get it,
though when Jimmy took the money he sold it me. Now I don't like to be
cheated by anybody."
There was a little laughter, for Appleby was known to be tenacious of
his rights.
"It was better than a circus when he made the Aunt Sally man fork out
the cocoa-nuts he won," said somebody.
"Well," said Appleby slowly, "it was right, and sixpence has to go a
long way with me. I don't get so many of them as the rest of you."
He slipped out of bed as he spoke, and there was another rustle when
Niven followed him, while a lad in the cot nearest them sat up.
"You haven't told us how you're going to get the duck," he said.
"That," said Niven, "is going to be almost too easy. I throw big stones
on Jimmy's roof, and when he comes out after me Appleby slips in and
gets the duck. With a little brains a fellow can do anything."
Next moment they were out in the dark corridor, and Niven held his
breath as they slipped past the half-open door of a lighted room where
the Head of the school was busy making out the bills. The treatment at
Sandycombe was at least as firm as kind, and the Head was known to have
an unpleasantly heavy hand. Nobody heard them, however, and in another
minute or two they were crawling about the dark passage where Charley,
the boy of all work, had laid out a long row of boots. Niven, it was
characteristic, took the first pair that seemed to fit him, while
Appleby went up and down the row on his hands and knees, until his
comrade fancied he would never be ready. Then Niven shoved up a window.
"Get through while I hold it. There isn't any sash-weight," he said.
"Then who's going to hold it for you?" said Appleby. "There'll be no
duck catching if it comes down with a bang."
Niven growled disgustedly. "Your turn! I never thought of that," he
said.
"Then," said Appleby, "it's a good thing I did. Put this piece of stick
under it."
It was done, and they dropped into a flower bed, slipped through the
garden behind the hollies, across a quaggy field, and came out into the
road just beyond the village. It was drizzling, and a bitter wind drove
a thin white mist past them. Niven stood still a moment ankle-deep in
mud, and glanced back towards the lights of the village blinking through
the haze.
"It doesn't look quite so nice now, but we had better go on," he said.
Appleby said nothing, but laughed a little as he plodded on into the
rain and mist, and, though the plan was Niven's, this was typical of
him. Appleby was not very brilliant at either work or play, but he
usually did what he took in hand with a slow thoroughness that
occasionally carried him further than his comrade's cleverness. He was
also slow to begin a friendship or make a quarrel, but those who drove
him into the latter usually regretted it, and his friends were good.
Nobody but Niven knew anything about his relations, while it was but
once in the term, somebody sent him a few shillings for pocket money.
Niven on the contrary could do almost anything he wanted well, and came
back each term with several hampers and a big handful of silver in his
pocket.
"It's beastly cold, and one of these boots is coming off. I'm not sure
it's my own," he said. "It would be a good joke for the other fellow if
I lost it."
"It wouldn't be for me," said Appleby dryly. "If I lost mine I would
have to go home with you in my stockings, but we'll have to get on
faster than we're doing."
They could scarcely see the hedgerows, and the mud got deeper. Now and
then a half-seen tree shook big drops down on them as they went by, and
there way a doleful crying of wild fowl from a marsh not far away. The
drizzle also beat into their eyes, and Niven, who felt distinctly sorry
he had ever heard about the duck, presently stopped altogether with his
feet in a pool.
"We could still go back, Tom," he said.
"No," said Appleby dryly. "I don't think we could, though because I
could manage it myself there's nothing to stop you if you wanted to."
There was not much mirth in Niven's laugh. "I'm not very anxious, if
you put it like that," he said.
They went on again, getting rapidly wetter, until Niven fell down as
they clambered over a dripping stile. "We're a pair of splay-footed
asses, Tom," he said.
Appleby nodded. "Still, we'd be bigger ones if we did nothing after all
this. I wouldn't sit there in the mud," he said.
Niven scrambled to his feet, and presently they crawled through a hedge
into a rutted lane with the lighted window of a cottage close in front
of them, and the radiance shone upon them as they stopped to glance up
and down. Appleby stood square and resolute with decision in his face,
and he was short and thick, with long arms and broad shoulders. Niven
shivered a little, and leaned forwards turning his head this way and
that with quick, nervous movements. He was lithe and light, with a
graceful suppleness that was not seen in his companion.
"Tom," he said softly, "there aren't any stones. Still, I could heave a
lump of stiff mud through the window, and that would fetch him."
Appleby shook his head. "There are tiles yonder, and they would do as
well," he said. "You see, we are entitled to the duck, but Jimmy's
window is another thing. Give me a minute, and then begin."
He slipped away into the gloom of a hedge, and it was evidently high
time, for a dog commenced growling. Niven felt very lonely as he stood
still in the rain, but the depression only lasted a moment or two, and
in another minute he had flung a big tile upon the roof. When the
second went banging and rattling down the slates he raised a
high-pitched howl.
"Jimmy, come out," he said. "Come out, you shuttle-toed clay stamper,
and be a man."
He was not kept waiting long. The door swung open and a man stood out
black against the light in the opening. He was peering into the
darkness, and apparently grasped a good-sized stick, but when another
tile crashed against the low roof above his head he saw the object
deriding him in the mud.
"Ellen, loose the dog," he said as he sprang forward.
Niven promptly darted up the lane, but there were two things he had not
counted on, and one of them was the dog, for Jimmy had not kept one when
they last passed his cottage. The other was even more embarrassing, for
while Niven could run tolerably well on turf in cricket shoes the deep
sticky mud was different, and one of the boots which were somebody
else's would slip up and down his foot. Still because Jimmy was not far
behind him, he did all he could, and was disgusted to find that a
tileworks labourer could run almost as well as he did. Indeed, for the
first Five minutes he had a horrible suspicion that Jimmy was running
better, but presently it became evident that the splashing thud of heavy
boots grew no louder, and he saw that he was at least maintaining his
lead. Still, he could not shake off the pursuer, and while he held on
with clenched hands and laboured breath an unfortunate thing happened.
One foot sank deep in a rut, Niven staggered, blundered through another
stride, and then rolled over in the grass under a tall hedge. That was
bad, but it was worse to find that he had now only a stocking upon one
foot. Jimmy was also unpleasantly close, and Niven, seeing he could not
escape by flight, rolled a little further beneath the hedge.
Then he lay very still while the man came floundering down the road, and
held his breath when he stopped as if to listen close beside him.
"The young varmint has made for the hedge gap," gasped the man. "If I
cut across to the stile I might ketch him."
He went on, and when his footsteps could no longer be heard Niven
crawled out and felt in the puddles for the boot. It was not to be
found, and rising with a groan he worked round towards the back of the
cottage. The dog was growling all the time, and he could hear a woman's
voice as well as a rattle of chain, but presently he saw a dark object
gliding along beneath a hedge. When he came up with it he noticed that
Appleby had something in his hand.
"I've got it," he said.
Niven looked at the object he held up. "It's very quiet," he said.
"Of course!" said Appleby. "You wouldn't make much noise without your
head. Killing anything is beastly, but there was a billhook handy.
We've no time for talking now. It's a good big dog."
They crossed a field, and Niven's shoeless foot did not greatly
embarrass him until they crawled through a hedge into recent ploughing,
while as they plodded over it the growling of the dog drew nearer.
"Come on!" gasped Appleby. "She has got him loose at last."
The beast was close at hand when another hedge rose up blackly against
the sky before them, and Niven swung off a little towards an oak that
grew out of it.
"It's a horrible brute, but it can't climb a tree. I'm going for the
oak," he said.
Appleby grasped his shoulder. "Jimmy could," he said. "Go on, and try
if you can pull one of those stakes in the gap up."
In another minute Niven was tearing out a thick stake, and felt a little
happier when he saw the end of it was sharpened, while Appleby had
clawed up a big clod of stiff clay from the ploughing.
"He's only a cur, any way, and I think there's a stone in it," he said.
They could now dimly see the dog, and it was evident that it saw them,
for it stopped, and then commenced to work round sideways in their
direction, growling as though a little disconcerted by their waiting.
"It's an ugly beast," said Niven, whose heart was in his mouth. "It
would get us if we ran."
"We're not going to run," said Appleby quietly, though his voice was a
trifle hoarse. "Howl at him, Chriss."
Niven commenced a discordant hissing, and the dog growled more angrily.
They could see it black against the ploughing, and it looked very big.
Appleby was standing perfectly still with something held up above his
head, and drew back a pace when the brute came creeping towards him.
"Here's something for you, Towser," he said, flinging his arm up.
Then a howl followed, and next moment Niven was tearing up the clay, and
hurling it in handfuls after something that seemed fading in the dimness
of the field. When he could see it no longer he stood up breathless.
"We've beaten him," he gasped. "It's about time we were going."
They went at once, and did not stop until they reached the road, where
Niven leaned against a gate, and glanced down ruefully at his foot.
"It wasn't so bad on the grass, but I don't know how I'm going to get
home now," he said.
"Put up your foot," said Appleby. "We'll tie our handkerchiefs round
it."
He was quick with his fingers, but when they turned homewards Niven was
not exactly happy. He was wet and very muddy, while, as he afterwards
observed, walking a long way on one foot is not especially easy. It was
also raining steadily, and a little trickle from his soaked cap ran down
his shoulders, while the bare hedgerows seemed to crawl back towards
them very slowly. The mud squelched and splashed underfoot, and there
was only the crying of the plover in the darkness.
"I never fancied it was such a beastly long way to the tileworks," he
said as he limped on painfully.
At last when the knotted handkerchief hurt his foot horribly a light or
two blinked faintly through the rain, and presently they plodded into
the silent village. Nobody seemed to see them, the window they had
slipped out of was still open, and crawling in they went up the stairway
and along the corridor on tiptoe with the water draining from them.
Niven had expected to find his comrades asleep, and was too wet and
dispirited to wish to waken them, but there was a murmur of sympathy
when he crept in.
"I wouldn't be you," said somebody. "The Head came in to ask how many
panes in the greenhouse Nettleton had broken, and he saw you were away."
"And he came back, and threatened to keep the whole of us here
to-morrow, if we didn't tell him where you were," said another lad. "It
was very nice of you to let us all into lumber."
"Did you tell him?" asked Appleby.
"Of course!" said a third speaker sardonically. "It's just what we
would do. I'll thank you for that to-morrow, and I'd get up now only
the Head would hear us, and he's breathing slaughter."
"Tearing around," said Bluey the Nova Scotian. "Cutlasses and pistols,
and the magazine open! You know the kind of thing you're fond of
reading."
Niven, who was tired out, groaned. As he told his comrades afterwards
he had enjoyed himself sufficiently already, and one wanted to brace up
before a visit from the Head.
"What are we going to do, Tom?" he said.
Appleby laughed softly. "I'm going straight to bed," he said. "The
Head's busy, and there mayn't be anything very dreadful if he sends
Pearson."
He was undressed in another two minutes, and as Niven crept into bed
somebody said, "Did you get the duck?"
"We did," said Niven solemnly. "And be hanged to it! That's enough for
you or anybody, and don't worry me. I want to be asleep when the Head
comes."
"You needn't be afraid he'll mind waking you," said another lad. "I'd
rolled up my jacket, so it looked just like Appleby's big head, and when
he saw it wasn't, he got speechless mad."
Ten minutes passed, and Niven was just feeling a little warm again when
there were footsteps in the corridor. They drew nearer, and with a
little gasp of dismay he swung himself out of and then under his bed. A
swish and a rustle told him that Appleby had followed his example, and a
voice from under the adjoining cot said, "He'll go away again if he
doesn't find us, and we may tire him out before the morning."
Next moment the door was opened, and while a light shone in somebody
said, "Asleep, of course, all of you! Have Niven and Appleby returned
yet?"
Niven, glancing out from under his cot, saw a robust elderly gentleman
holding a candle above him, while he swung what looked like a horse
girth suggestively in his other hand, but a snore answered the master's
question, and he laughed unpleasantly.
"We have had sufficient nonsense," he said. "You can either tell me at
once where your comrades went, or improve your memories by writing lines
the rest of the night."
Here and there a sleepy object sat up on a bed, but there was still no
answer, and the head of Sandycombe School tapped his foot impatiently on
the flooring.
"I'm not in a mood for trifling, boys," he said. "You have another
minute to decide in, and nobody in this room will go home to-morrow if
you do not tell me then."
There was for several seconds a silence that could be felt, and though
all of those who heard him knew the head of the school would keep his
word, nobody spoke. Then there was a rustle under a bed, and Niven
caught a low murmur, "Keep still. If he get's one of us he'll forget
the other."
Next moment Appleby was speaking louder. "I'm here, sir," he said.
The master lowered his candle as something wriggled out from under the
cot, and then swung up the strap when Appleby stood very straight before
him in his night gear.
"Where is Niven? It was you who took him away?" he said.
"Yes, sir," said Appleby. "I did, but he came back all right."
"Very good!" said the master. "You seem to be proud of it. Hold out
your hand."
Appleby glanced at him, and did not move for a second or two while he
thought rapidly. He did not like what he saw in his master's eyes, and
now he had delivered his comrades it was time to shift for himself. He
and Niven were leaving school early on the morrow, and he fancied he
might escape if he could tide through the next ten minutes, because the
head of the school had a good deal to attend to on the last night. The
door was also open, and not far away, the candle was flickering in the
draughts, and swinging suddenly round he darted for the opening. He
was, however, a second too late, for the great strap came down swishing,
and coiled about his shoulders, but he was in the corridor before it
rose again, and making for the head of a short stairway. The master,
however, seemed to be gaining on him, and Appleby fancied he heard the
swish of the strap when a yard away from the first step. One taste had
been sufficient, and bracing every sinew he went down in a flying leap.
As he alighted there was a thud and a crash, and the candle suddenly
went out. Still, nobody fell down the stairway, and surmising that the
pursuer missing him with the strap had driven the candle against the
wall, Appleby did not wait for a recall but went on, and into the great,
dark schoolroom underneath. There he listened until heavy footsteps
overhead seemed to indicate that the master had gone back to his room,
when creeping up another stairway, he regained the opposite end of the
corridor through a class-room. In another few minutes he had crawled
back into his bed.
"Does it hurt, Tom?" said Niven sympathetically. "I'm owing you a good
deal for this, but I know you don't like that kind of talk--and did you
forget the duck?"
Appleby laughed softly, partly to check the groan, for there was a
horrible tingling round his shoulders.
"I've had a lighter tap, but I've got the duck. It's here under the
bed," he said.
*CHAPTER II*
*OUT OF DOCK*
Appleby went home with Niven next morning, as he had done once or twice
before, for he had no home to go to, or relations who seemed anxious to
invite him anywhere. Mr. Niven was a prosperous Liverpool merchant who
had, however, made his own way in the world, and he and his wife had
taken a liking to the quiet, friendless lad. Chriss Niven also wrote to
his mother every week, and, though Appleby did not know this, had
mentioned more than one difficulty out of which his comrade had pulled
him.
It was a week later when Appleby, who had slipped away from the rest,
sat somewhat moodily in a corner of a little ante-room opening out of a
large one that was brilliantly lighted. The chords of a piano rang
through the swish of dresses, patter of feet, and light-hearted
laughter, for it was Mrs. Niven's birthday, and she had invited her
son's and daughter's friends to assist in its celebration. Appleby was
fond of music, and he drummed with his fingers on the arm of his chair,
and now and then glanced wistfully towards the doorway.
Under the glances of bright eyes that seemed to find his clumsiness
amusing, and amidst the dainty dresses, he had grown horribly conscious
that his clothes were old and somewhat shabby. The fact had not
troubled him before, but he had never been brought into contact with
pretty girls of his own age hitherto.
Niven, however, always looked well, and Appleby sighed once or twice as
he watched him, and found it hard not to envy him. Chriss could do
everything well, and he was to sail south in a great iron merchant ship
by and by. Appleby had lived beside the warm tropic sea in his
childhood and had loved it ever since, but now, when the sight of the
blue uniform of his friend stirred up the old longing so that his eyes
grew almost dim, he knew that he was to begin a life of distasteful
drudgery in an office. Presently Mr. Niven, who had a lean face and
keen dark eyes, came in.
"All alone, Tom. Have the girls frightened you?" he said with a smile.
"Well, sir," said Appleby quietly, "you see, when I tried to turn over
the music for Miss Lester I couldn't quite guess the right time and it
only worried her, while it didn't seem much use to stand about in
everybody's way. I'm going back when they start a game."
Mr. Niven nodded, for the unembarrassed gravity of the answer pleased
him. "That's right. There's very little use in pretending one can do
things when one can't," he said. "And you are going into business, eh!
I fancy, however, that Chriss told me you wanted to go to sea."
"Yes," said Appleby with a reluctance that did not escape the listener.
"Still, it seems all the owners ask a good big premium, and of course
there is nobody to lend me the money. The little my father left was
spent on my education, and my guardian writes me that he has heard of an
office where I could earn enough to keep me."
"How did you know they wanted a premium?" asked Mr. Niven.
"Because I went round all the shipowners' offices I could find in the
directory, sir," said Appleby.
The merchant nodded gravely to hide his astonishment. "Your father died
abroad, and your mother too?" he said.
"Yes, sir," said Appleby quietly. "At Singapore. I can only just
remember them. I was sent back to England when I was very young--and
never saw either of them again."
Mr. Niven noticed the self-control in the lad's face as well as the
slight tremble in his voice which would not be hidden. It was also if
somewhat impassive a brave young face, and there was a steadiness that
pleased him in the grave, grey eyes, he wished his own son looked as
capable of facing the world alone.
"And you would still like to go to sea? It is a very hard life," he
said.
Appleby smiled. "Isn't everything a little hard, sir, when you have no
friends or money?"
"Well," said Mr. Niven dryly, "it not infrequently is, and I found it
out at your age, though not many youngsters do. Who taught it you?"
Appleby looked a trifle confused. "I," he said slowly, "don't quite
know--but it seems to make things a little easier now. Of course I did
want to go to sea, but I know it's out of the question."
The merchant looked at him curiously. "You will probably be very
thankful by and by, but hadn't you better go back to the others? We'll
have a talk again."
Appleby went out to take part in a game, and Mr. Niven sat looking
straight before him thoughtfully until his wife came in.
"They are getting on excellently, and I am glad the affair is a success,
because it is difficult to please young people now-a-days, and I want
Chriss to have only pleasant memories to carry away with him," she said.
She glanced towards the doorway with a little wistfulness in her eyes as
Chriss passed by holding himself very erect while a laughing girl
glanced up at him, and Mr. Niven guessed her thoughts.
"It will be his own fault if he hasn't," he said with a smile. "It was,
however, the other lad I was thinking of."
Mrs. Niven sat down and gazed at the fire for almost a minute
reflectively. "You have had an answer from that relative of his?"
The merchant nodded. "To-day," he said. "He is evidently not disposed
to do much for the lad, and has found him an opening in the office of a
very third-rate firm. Appleby does not like the prospect, and from what
I know of his employers I can sympathize with him."
"He has no other friends. I asked him," said Mrs. Niven. "Jack, I can't
help thinking we owe a good deal to that lad, and you know I am fond of
him. He has always taken Chriss's part at Sandycombe, and you will
remember he thrashed one of the bigger boys who had been systematically
ill-using him. Then there was another little affair the night before
they left the school. Chriss told Millicent, though he didn't mention
it to me."
"Nor to me," said Mr. Niven. "A new, senseless trick, presumably?"
The lady smiled a little as she told the story of Jimmy's duck. "The
point is that the plan was Chriss's, but when they were found out
Appleby took the punishment," she said. "Now I scarcely fancy every lad
would have done that, or have been sufficiently calm just then to
remember that the master, who it seems was very busy, would probably be
content when he had laid his hands on one of them. It was also a really
cruel blow he got."
"Did he tell you?" said Mr. Niven dryly.
"No," said the lady. "That was what pleased me, because though I tried
to draw him out about it he would tell me nothing, but a night or two
ago I remembered there were some of his things that wanted mending. The
lad has very few clothes, but he is shy and proud, and I fancied I could
take what I wanted away and replace it without him noticing. Well, he
was fast asleep, and I couldn't resist the temptation of stooping over
him. His pyjama jacket was open, and I could see the big, purple weal
that ran right up to his neck."
"If he knew, he would never forgive you," said Mr. Niven with a little
laugh. "But what did they do with the duck? Chriss would certainly
have forgotten it."
"Appleby brought it away, and gave it to some poor body in Chester,"
said Mrs. Niven.
"That was the one sensible part of the whole affair, but I want to know
why you told me."
"Well," said the lady slowly, "you know he wants to go to sea, and I
feel sure his relative would be only too glad to get rid of him. Now it
wouldn't be very difficult for you to get him a ship almost without a
premium."
"A ship?" said Mr. Niven with a little smile.
"Yes," said the lady. "Chriss's ship. Chriss is--well, you know he is
just a trifle thoughtless."
"I fancy you mean spoiled," said her husband. "Still, as usual, you are
right. It is quite probable that Chriss will want somebody with a
little sense behind him. Going to sea in a merchant ship is a very
different kind of thing from what he believes it is."