_A SCHOOL CHUM_
"Going abroad!" exclaimed Caleb Kenley, "what the deuce has put that
into your head?"
"I have been a dire failure here; perhaps elsewhere I shall turn out a
success."
"You have not been a failure; there are very few better riders in
England than yourself. Do not be offended at my question. Are you short
of money? Is that the reason?"
"The principal reason, and a very good one. I have always been short of
money."
"Why not ride as a professional jockey? You would find plenty of
employment and make a heap of money."
"I should not mind it at all for myself," he replied.
"And who else have you to consider?"
"Some one very dear to me; I cannot tell you who it is."
"I think I can guess," replied the trainer smiling. He had noticed how
Jack and Winifred were attached to each other.
"Please do not try, but if you know, keep it to yourself. I must make
money--do something--and there is no chance for me here."
"You will not be going for a month or two?" asked Caleb anxiously.
"No, not for two or three months."
"I am glad of that; you'll be able to ride Topsy Turvy again at Lewes,
and win on him, I hope."
"Is Sir Lester going to run him again in the Southdown Welter?"
"Yes, and of course, you must ride."
"I shall be delighted," replied Jack. "It will probably be my last mount
in the old country, for many a long year."
"What country are you bound for?" asked Caleb.
"I do not know at present."
"I have a brother in Sydney, in New South Wales. He has done well there;
he trains horses at Randwich, and I am sure if you met him, that is, if
you go to Australia, he would make you welcome. He might be able to give
you a wrinkle, put you in the way of making a living. He was always a
shrewd sharp fellow; I have not heard from him for some time, but I know
he is still there," said Caleb.
"If I decide upon Australia, I shall be only too pleased to meet him."
"His name is Joel, and if you decide to go there, I will write to him
about you."
"Thanks," replied Jack, "it is always nice to meet a friend in the midst
of strangers."
Jack Redland was often at Lewes, and rode gallops on the downs for the
trainer. After their conversation he had a spin on Topsy Turvy, who went
remarkably well, and he wondered if he was to win another race on him
before he left.
From Lewes he went up to London, and called at several shipping offices.
As he came out of the Orient Line offices and walked along Fenchurch
Street, he met an old schoolfellow named Harry Marton, whom he had lost
sight of for some years.
Harry Marton had been his particular chum at school, and when he left he
entered the stockbrokers' office of Marton and Shrew, his father being
the senior partner. He tried to persuade Jack to join him there, but he
declined, giving as his reason that he could not bear to be cooped up in
the city. After this their ways lay far apart, and they seldom came
across each other.
Jack saw his former comrade looked anything but prosperous; in fact,
like himself, he was evidently down on his luck. A hearty greeting
passed between them, and Harry said--
"You look as though you were doing well; I am sorry to say I have had a
very rough time of it. No doubt you heard of the firm's failure. The
poor old governor, it completely broke him up, and he died penniless,
and I firmly believe heartbroken. His partner swindled him right and
left, and to make matters worse, involved the firm in some very shady
transactions. I warned my father, but he had such confidence in Shrew
that he took no notice of what I said. It would have been better for him
had he done so. We might have saved something from the wreck when the
crash came."
"I am awfully sorry to hear it," replied Jack; "but you are mistaken as
to my state of prosperity. I assure you I have not a penny to bless
myself with, but I have some very good friends."
"Which I am sorry to say I have not," replied Harry. "Curious we should
meet here. I wonder if you have been on the same errand as myself?"
"I have been to the Orient office to see about a passage to Sydney."
"And I have been on a similar errand, but not to the same office. I have
had the offer of a passage out to Western Australia, to Fremantle. It is
not a crack steamer by any means, but I don't mind that. When I arrive
there I am certain of employment. You'll laugh when I tell you what it
is."
"How strange we should meet here," replied Jack.
"It is, very curious; it must be five or six years since I saw you
last."
"Quite that; it is a coincidence we ought not to overlook. How would it
do for us to go out together?"
"It would be splendid, but Fremantle is a long way from Sydney, I
believe."
"We cannot talk here; let us go into Carter's and have a chat," said
Harry.
They entered the quiet, modest dining-rooms, and secured a table in a
corner, away from the busy throng of city men, who were hurriedly
discussing their luncheons.
"It always amuses me to watch the city man in here," said Jack. "He has
not a minute to spare, and his food disappears with lightning-like
rapidity. I wonder if it does him any good, or if he has the faintest
idea of what he is eating."
"He cannot get much enjoyment out of it; I have tried it myself, and
know what it means."
"In your clerking days?" said Jack.
"Yes, we never had much time to spare; it's different now. There is too
much time and too little money."
Jack saw his friend was hungry, and ordered a substantial meal, which he
was glad he had cash enough to pay for.
"I have not had such a good feed for many a long day," said Harry Marton
with a sigh of regret that luncheon was at last over.
"It has been as bad as that?" said Jack.
"Yes, and occasionally I have had to starve for twelve hours. There is
no man I have more pity for than the clerk out of work. He has to look
respectable, or there is no chance of obtaining a situation; and when he
gets work, his pay is miserably small. I assure you, Jack, I have
tramped the city until I am sick of the whole thing. Nothing but
refusals, even from men I knew when in my father's office. I wonder why
parents are so anxious to bring up their children to respectable
starvation. I have seen scores of good fellows dining off a piece of
bread and a cup of tea, when a square meal would have been a Godsend to
them. I think it is false pride in many cases; there's too much of the
'gentlemanly occupation' in this world."
"You speak from experience, I know very little about it," replied Jack,
"but I can quite believe all you say. Tell me how you came to think of
going to the colonies."
"Four or five years ago a man who hailed from Western Australia walked
into our office. His name was Barry Tuxford, and he had been on the
goldfields in that colony and made what he called a pile. He was a
jovial, free and easy fellow, and he took a fancy to me. I showed him
round town, and we had some very good times indeed. He got our firm to
do some business for him, which panned out very well. When he returned
he told me before he sailed, that if ever I wished to go out to Western
Australia, I was to write to him to an address he gave me at Fremantle.
I promised to do so, but at that time I never thought there was any
chance of making use of him. I lost the address, but I remembered the
man, and that the town was Fremantle, so I risked it and wrote to him
there. A fortnight ago I received his reply. He wrote that it was lucky
Barry Tuxford was well known, or he would never have received the
letter. He was sorry to hear of my misfortunes, said he recollected our
jaunts around town, and proposed I should join him out there. 'We can do
with a few smart fellows like you,' he said, 'and if you have a mate you
can bring him with you; so much the better.' He then went on to say if I
decided to go to Fremantle, I must take his letter to the owners of the
steamer 'Golden Land,' and they would give me a passage out."
"Very good of him," said Jack, "You will probably mend your fortunes in
the company of such a man. What are you to do when you arrive there?"
"That is the funny part of the business. He wants me to go with his
pearling schooner, and some other boats, to a place I think he calls
Shark's Bay. I am to be a sort of supercargo and general hand, I
suppose, but what the deuce can he expect me to know about pearls and
pearl fishing?" said Harry Marton.
"A man like that will soon teach you your work, and it must be a jolly
interesting occupation, although, of course, there will be plenty of
roughing it," replied Jack. "I should not mind it in the least."
Harry Marton looked at his friend, noticed his spruce appearance, and
smiled.
"I don't think it would suit you, Jack. It's different with me, a case
of Hobson's choice. Where Shark's Bay is I have not the faintest idea."
"We'll hunt it up on the map."
"They haven't such a thing as an atlas at Carter's."
"There is no harm in asking," said Jack, and called the waiter.
"Hatlas, sir? No, sir, the gents as come here has no time to look at a
hatlas. The only part of the earth they care about lies within a radius
of a mile round Carter's. They may have seen a hatlas at school, sir,
but, bless you, it would be so much waste paper here."