I suppose my uncle thought it good discipline to turn a young fellow
like me adrift for a whole day in London to shift for myself, and
wrestle single-handed with the crisis that was to decide my destiny.
He may have been right, but when, after an hour's excited journey in the
train, I found myself along with several hundred fellow-mortals standing
in a street which seemed to be literally alive with people, I, at any
rate, neither admired his wisdom nor blessed him for his good
intentions.
Every one but myself seemed to be in a desperate hurry. Had I not been
sure it was the way of the place, I should have been tempted to suppose
some tremendous fire, or some extraordinary event was taking place at
the other end of the street, and that every one was rushing to get a
glimpse of it. I stood a minute or two outside the station, hoping to
be left behind; but behold, no sooner had the tail of the race passed
me, when another, indeed two other train-loads of humanity swarmed down
upon me, and, hustling me as they swept by, fairly carried me along with
them.
One thing alarmed me prodigiously. It was not the crowd, or the noise,
or the cabs, or the omnibuses, or the newspaper-boys, or the shops, or
the policemen, or the chimney-pot hats. These all astonished me, as
well they might. But what terrified me was the number of boys like
myself who formed part of the procession, and who, every one of them as
I imagined, were hurrying towards Hawk Street.
My uncle had told me that I should find Hawk Street turning out at the
end of the street in which the station stood, and this was precisely the
direction in which these terrible boys were all going.
How knowing they all looked, and how confident! There was not one of
them, I was certain, but was more intelligent than I, and quicker at
figures. How I hated them as they swaggered along, laughing and joking
with one another, looking familiarly on the scene around them, crossing
the road in the very teeth of the cab-horses, and not one of them caring
or thinking a bit about me. What chance had I among all these?
There was not much conceit left in me, I assure you, as I followed
meekly in their wake towards Hawk Street that morning.
My uncle's directions had been so simple that I had never calculated on
having any difficulty in finding my destination. But it's all very well
in a quiet country town to find one street that turns out of another,
but in London, between nine and ten in the morning, it's quite a
different matter. At least so I found it. Half a dozen streets turned
out of the one which I and the stream descended, and though I carefully
studied the name of each in turn, no Hawk Street was there.
"Can you tell me where Hawk Street is?" I inquired at last of a fellow-
passenger after a great inward struggle.
"Hawk Street? Yes. Go through Popman's Alley, and up the second court
to the left--that'll bring you to Hawk Street."
"But uncle said it turned--" My guide had vanished!
I diligently sought for Popman's Alley, which I found to be a long paved
passage between two high blocks of buildings, and leading apparently
nowhere; at least I could discover no outlet, either at the end or
either side. Every one was in such a hurry that I dared not "pop the
question" as to the whereabouts of Hawk Street again, but made my way
back once more to the entrance. By this time I was so muddled that for
the life of me I could not tell which was the street I had come down,
still less how I could get back to it.
Ask my way I must, if I died for it! Ten o'clock had struck ten minutes
ago, and I was due at Merrett, Barnacle, and Company's at 10:15.
I noticed a boy ahead of me walking rather more slowly than the rest. I
would ask him, and stick to him till he put me right. So I made up to
him boldly.
"Will you show me the way to Hawk Street, please?" I said, as I came
up.
He turned round suddenly as I spoke. Was it possible? Here, in London,
where one might as soon expect to meet a body one knows as meet the man
in the moon!
It was my friend Smith!
"Jack!" I exclaimed.
"Fred!" exclaimed Smith, seizing my hand.
There was no doubt about it, and no doubt about all my foolish
suspicions as to his having forgotten me or ceased to care for me being
groundless. His solemn face lit up almost to a look of jubilation as he
grasped my hand and said, "Why, Fred, old man, whatever are you doing
here?"
"What are _you_ doing?" cried I. "Who ever would have thought of
running up against you in this place? But I say," said I, suddenly
remembering the time. "I have got to be in Hawk Street in two minutes,
Jack. For goodness' sake, show us the way, if you know it."
Smith opened his black eyes very wide.
"You have to be somewhere in Hawk Street?" he asked.
"Yes. Merrett, Barnacle, and Company's the name. I'm after a place
they have got there."
Smith's face passed through a variety of expressions, ending in the old
solemn look as he quietly said, "So am I."
"You!" I exclaimed. "You after the same place? Oh, Jack!"
"I'm awfully sorry," said he. "I didn't know--"
"Oh, it's not that," I interrupted, "at all. I wish they had two
places, though."
"So do I. Perhaps they have. But I say, you'd better look sharp."
"Aren't you coming too?" I said.
"I haven't to be there till 10:30. They'll see you first."
At that moment a clock chimed the quarter, and startled me nearly out of
my wits.
"That's the time," cried I. "Where _ever_ is Hawk Street, Jack?"
"This is it we're in, and that's the place over the way. Merrett's is
on the first-floor."
"Be sure you wait outside for me," said I, preparing to dart over.
"Yes," said he. "But, Fred, promise me one thing."
"What?" said I, hurriedly.
"Not to show off badly because I'm after the place too."
Old Jack! He gave me credit, I fear, for a good deal more nobleness
than I had a right to claim.
"All serene," said I, "if you'll promise the same."
"Yes," said he. "Mind, honour bright, Fred."
And so we parted, he to pace up and down the street for a long quarter
of an hour, and I to present myself before the awful presence of Messrs.
Merrett, Barnacle, and Company.
If all the youths who had flocked with me from the station in the
direction of Hawk Street had been bound (as my fears had suggested), for
this place, they would have found themselves rather cramped for room by
the time they were all assembled; for the first-floor offices which I
entered were decidedly limited in their capacity. I, who had been
expecting at least a place capable of holding several scores of clerks,
was somewhat taken aback to find myself in a counting-house which
accommodated only half a score, and even that at rather close quarters.
In fact, I was so much taken aback that, although I had seen the name
plainly inscribed on the door, I was constrained to inquire on entering,
"Is this Messrs. Merrett, Barnacle, and Company's office, please?"
"Yes," said one of the clerks, shortly, "what about it?"
"Oh, if you please," I began, "I've come to--that is I've--"
"Come, out with it, can't you?" said the clerk.
"It's the situation," said I, feeling very uncomfortable.
"Well, what about it?" said the clerk, who, evidently cheered by the
smiles of his fellow-clerks, thought it a good joke to browbeat a poor
green country boy.
"Only I've come after it," faltered I.
"Have you, though? And who told you to do that, I'd like to know?"
"My uncle--that is I had a letter--" but here a general laugh
interrupted my confession, and I felt very foolish indeed.
"So you've got an uncle, have you? Do you ever lend him your gold
watch?"
This witticism was lost on me. I didn't see the connection between my
uncle borrowing my gold watch (if I had had one), and the situation at
Messrs. Merrett, Barnacle, and Company's. But it would never do to make
myself disagreeable.
"I've not got a gold watch, or a silver one either," I said.
This seemed to occasion fresh merriment among my catechist and his
fellows.
"Why don't you say who told you to come?" demanded the clerk.
"I did say," mildly replied I. "I got a letter."
"What's that to do with it? I got a letter to-day, didn't I, Wallop, to
tell me my washerwoman had changed her address. But that's no reason
for my coming here."
This was perfectly sound reasoning. So I amended my explanation.
"I got a letter from Merrett, Barnacle, and Company.--"
"_Messrs_. Merrett, Barnacle, and Company, if you please," put in the
clerk.
"I beg your pardon," said I, "from Messrs. Merrett, Barnacle, and
Company, telling me to be here at 10:15."
"Oh. Why didn't you say that before? What's the use of prevaricating
when it's just as easy to tell the truth straight out, eh? What's the
time now?"
"Twenty past," said I, looking at the clock.
"And you call that punctual? That's a nice beginning, anyhow. What's
your name?"
"Batchelor," said I.
This again appeared to afford amusement to the company in general; and
one or two jokes at the expense of my name were forthcoming, which I
bore with as good a grace as I could.
At length it pleased the clerk who had cross-examined me to get off his
stool, and after poking the fire and consulting the directory, and
skirmishing pleasantly with a fellow-clerk for a minute or two, to go to
the door of the inner-room and knock there.
"Come in," I heard a voice answer, and the clerk entered.
He emerged again in a moment and beckoned to me. Now was the time! I
braced myself up to the ordeal, and not heeding the facetious dig in the
ribs which the clerk gave me in passing, I put on my best face, and
entered the awful presence.
Two gentlemen sat facing one another at the table, one of them old, the
other middle-aged. These I instantly guessed to be Messrs. Merrett and
Barnacle. Mr Barnacle, the junior partner, who had a sharp voice and a
stern face, undertook my examination, Mr Merrett only coming in
occasionally with some mild observation.
"You are Batchelor," said Mr Barnacle, when I had entered and carefully
closed the door behind me. I noticed he held in his hand my original
letter of application. "You are Frederick Batchelor. How is it you are
late?"
"I'm sorry, sir," faltered I, at this rather discouraging beginning,
"but--"
And here I stuck. What was the use of trying to explain what still
remained the fact?
Mr Barnacle eyed me keenly, and continued, "You are fourteen, you say,
have just left school, and are good at arithmetic. What school were you
at?"
"Stonebridge House, sir."
"Where is that?"
"In Cliffshire."
"And you think you would suit us?"
"I'd try, sir," said I.
"Do you know what our work is?" said Mr Barnacle.
"No, sir, not exactly," I replied.
"Generally speaking," mildly put in Mr Merrett, "you've a sort of
idea."
"Yes," said I, not quite sure whether I was telling the truth or not.
Mr Barnacle touched his bell, and the clerk appeared.
"Bring me the invoice-book, Doubleday."
Mr Doubleday returned directly with a large account-book, which he
deposited on the table before the junior partner.
Mr Barnacle pushed it towards me.
"I want a list made out of all the goods sent to Mr Walker, of Bombay,
since the beginning of the year. Let me see you make it out." Then
touching his bell again, he said to Mr Doubleday, the clerk, "Here,
Doubleday, give this boy some invoice paper and a pen, and let him write
at your desk. He is to make a copy of all Walker's invoices since the
beginning of this year."
"Yes, sir," said Doubleday.
"Be particular that he receives no assistance, and bring me the sheets
when completed. Batchelor, take this book and follow Mr Doubleday to
the counting-house."
"Do it as well as you can, without any help," mildly put in Mr Merrett,
by way of encouragement.
I followed my conductor in a state of terrible trepidation, feeling that
all this wasn't a bit like what I had expected my interview with Messrs.
Merrett, Barnacle, and Company to be.
"Here, hop up, young fellow," said Mr Doubleday, pointing to a high
stool at one of the desks, "and pull up your boot."
I concluded this last expression meant make haste, and I accordingly
pulled up my boot, and lost no time in setting myself to my task.
I was to make out a list of all that Walker of Bombay had had since the
beginning of the year. I opened the big account-book; it contained a
great many accounts, some long, some short. I began at the beginning,
and searched through for any belonging to Walker of Bombay.
At length, after about twenty pages, I found an entry dated December
30th last year. That would not do; I was only to make a list of what
had been sent this year; and yet, on looking again, I saw it noted that
these goods, though entered on the 30th of December, had not been
shipped till the 2nd of January. Here was a poser to begin with. I
looked up and caught the eye of Doubleday, who, evidently enjoying my
perplexity, was watching me.
"I say," I ventured to say, "does he mean--"
"Hold your tongue, sir," broke out the virtuous Doubleday. "Didn't you
hear Mr Barnacle say you were to get no assistance? What do you mean
by it? I'm ashamed of you; so's Wallop."
"I shall mention the matter to the governor," observed Wallop, with a
grin at his ally.
"Oh, don't," I said. "I beg your pardon!" It was evidently hopeless to
expect any light from without on the problem, so I decided for myself I
would include the account in question. I was just beginning to copy it
out, and to shut my ears to the chaff that was going on around me, when
the counting-house door opened, and the solemn face of my friend Smith
appeared, asking if Messrs. Merrett, Barnacle, and Company were at home.
His quick eye detected me at once, and I felt very uncomfortable, lest
he should misunderstand the state of affairs and jump to the conclusion
that I had been already engaged by the firm. At all risks I determined
to put him right on this point.
"I'm not taken on, Jack," I said, before his question had been answered.
"They've given me--"
"I'll give you a box on the ears, young gentleman," broke out the amazed
Doubleday. "You're forgetting yourself. Go on with your work. Now
then, young hop-o'-my-thumb," said he, addressing himself to Smith,
"what do you want?"
Smith solemnly produced a letter, which he exhibited to the senior
clerk.
"Oh, you're after the place too, are you, young bull's-eye?"
"Yes," said Smith, solemnly, and apparently not aware that the last
expression had been intended as a joke.
"Why don't you laugh, eh?" cried Wallop; "we all laugh here when Doubles
makes a joke; don't we, Crow?"
Mr Crow, thus appealed to, replied, "Oh, of course. We don't get much
laughing, though."
Mr Doubleday waxed red in the face at this, and rounded on Smith.
"Don't go staring at me, do you hear? Look in the fireplace, can't you?
and then you won't set alight to anything. Do you know this kid here?"
added he, pointing at me over his shoulder.
"Yes," replied Smith.
"Do you know he's after the place?"
"Yes," said Smith.
"Then what do you want to come after it for? One of you's enough, ain't
it?"
Smith stared solemnly at the speaker, whereat that virtuous individual
waxed once more very wroth.
"Look here, if you can't cast your eyes somewhere else, young fellow,
I'll cast them for you, so now. Why don't you answer my question?"
"I was told to be here at half-past ten," replied Jack.
"Then what do you mean by coming at twenty-eight past, eh, you young
ruffian? Stay outside the door till the right time."
Smith obeyed solemnly, and for exactly two minutes remained outside. At
the end of that period he returned.
Mr Doubleday, evidently perplexed for the moment how to get a rise out
of him, announced him to the partners, and I saw him vanish into the
inner-room.
"I say, Wallop," said Doubleday, when he had disappeared, "I hope
they're not going to take on a couple of them."
My heart bounded as I listened. The bare suggestion was delightful.
"I hope not," said Wallop. "I don't see what they want _one_ for."
"Oh, I do," said Crow (who I supposed had hitherto been the junior),
"he'll be jolly useful, you know, running errands, and all that."
"All I can say is, unless he does it better than you, he'll be very
little use."
"There you go," said Crow, in a sulk. "The more a fellow does for you
the more you growl. You see if I get you any more cheap neckties. I'm
always ashamed, as it is, to ask for ninepenny sailor's knots and one-
and-twopenny kid gloves at the shop."
"Tell the truth--they're one-and-three. I suppose you get one-and-
twopenny and pocket the odd penny!"
This pleasant recrimination might have proceeded I know not how long,
greatly to the detriment of my task, had not some one at the other desk
changed the subject.
"Don't you fret, you there," said he, "the junior's not for you at all.
He's for the imports. I told the governor we wanted a boy in our
department last week."
"You did!" exclaimed Doubleday. "Why, I told him we couldn't possibly
do without more help here in the exports a fortnight ago."
I don't know if any one saw my face when this glorious announcement was
made. I could have danced on my desk for joy! Just suppose--suppose it
should turn out that Jack Smith should be taken on in the export
department and I in the import--or the other way round! I could hardly
contain myself at the bare idea. Wouldn't I be glad! I would get
Wallop one-and-fourpenny gloves and only charge him one-and-three for
them, to signalise the joyous event. I would let myself out as a slave
to the entire office, if only Jack Smith and I were both taken on! How
was he getting on in the partners' room? I wondered. I hoped--
"I suppose you've done," said Doubleday, looking round at this point;
"if so you can hook it."
"I haven't quite," said I, dashing back to my work.