THE MISSING SHIP.
In the meantime Ralph had been busy getting all the things ready for our
sail; so we took our places in the boat, and stood out to sea. The wind
being steadily off shore, our progress was rapid; we bounded lightly
over the water, and had soon placed some distance between us and the
Cove.
George sat at the helm, keeping a keen look out in every direction;
whilst Aleck, Ralph, and I, strained our eyes in fruitless efforts to
discover the tiny white sail we were longing to see.
The glorious sunshine dancing and sparkling on the water seemed to mock
the gloomy heavy-heartedness that was darkening the hours of our long
anticipated holiday. Aleck and I were almost entirely silent. When we
spoke, it was to Ralph, or George, as convenient third parties; not a
word would we say to each other.
Old George did his best, with clumsy kindness, to make lively remarks
from time to time; but the responsive laugh was wanting; and, after
experiencing two or three signal failures, he struck his colours and
yielded to the spell that had fallen upon us.
The whole Braycombe coast for many miles is deeply indented with creeks
and coves, and diversified with outstanding rocks and promontories,
about the most picturesque and the most dangerous part of our southern
shores. Old George decided that probably the object of our search had
been driven in by the fitful wind amongst some of the near rocks and
creeks, and might, perhaps, be recovered by a careful search. So, warily
steered by our experienced sailor, we set ourselves to the work, having
scanned, to the best of our ability, the open sea beyond with a pocket
telescope.
What with the tackings frequently necessary, and the taking down sail in
one place, and then putting it up in another, the time passed on
rapidly; and we were quite surprised, as we finished the exploration of
one of the little inlets, to hear Groves remark that it was "nigh upon
two o'clock, and that we'd all be the better of a little food." For the
first time in our lives we had forgotten to be hungry.
It was decided that we should spread the luncheon on a broad flat stone,
near which our boat was now curtseying listlessly on the water, and take
our repast ashore. George and Ralph lifted out the hamper, and spread
the cloth, and arranged the various good things we found inside.
"And don't let us forget," said old George, reverently, lifting his hat,
"the thanks we owe to our Father, which art in heaven, for His bounties
provided for us."
The train of thought thus started seemed to go on in his mind, after we
had set to the serious business of luncheon. "You see, young gentlemen,"
he presently continued, "we're to remember that all the good things He
sends us come from the same hand that sends us our disappointments too;
and though we don't always see it, it's true that the troubles and
trials are amongst the _good_ things. Many a time I've kept a-thinking
of that verse which says, 'He that spared not His only-begotten Son, but
delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not, with Him, also freely
give us all things'--the _all things_ there meaning, you see, the
troubles and losses as much as the gains, and successes, and pleasures.
And I think it's the same with children as with grown people; _their_
trials, which are small to grown-up people, are great to _them_, and
they don't come by chance. And, when we are able to feel this way, young
gentlemen, it's easier to bear up when the wind seems dead against you,
and to say, when things go wrong, and there's a deal of beating about,
and a shipping of heavy seas, as you're taught to say in the Lord's
prayer, 'Thy will be done.'"
I forget what was said after George finished this homely, but practical
and excellent children's sermon; but I can remember that Aleck's face
looked somewhat lighter; the words seemed to have touched some inner
chord, and to have met _his_ troubles more than they did _mine_. _My_
load, on the contrary, lay all the more heavily on my conscience; as I
realized that I was entirely shut out from such consolations as George
tried to offer, so that I became _more_ rather than _less_ gloomy.
The old man resumed the thread of conversation soon again.
"It seems strange now," he said, "to think how we're grieving over this
bit of a toy ship, and then to think of how one's felt seeing, as I did
once, a good ship with her crew, men and boys, clinging to the rigging,
and going down before your eyes, and you not able to help them, though
they kept a-screeching out and a-calling to you all the while."
"Couldn't you do anything?" we both exclaimed, our interest now fully
awakened; "did you try to help them?"
"Oh yes, sir," George answered, and I could see the tears standing in
his eyes; "God be praised, we didn't see 'em go down without doing what
we could for them; and I'm glad to think of it, though my life didn't
seem worth the having for many a long day afterward."
"Oh, why?" asked Aleck, eagerly; and I, in spite of our being upon terms
of not speaking, caught myself whispering to him, "Don't you
know?--Ralph's father was drowned."
But George went on, with his eyes fixed on the water, as if the great
sea which had swallowed up his dead were a book, and he were reading
from it.
"His father"--and with a turn of the head he indicated Ralph--"was with
me; he was but four-and-twenty, and as handsome as handsome; a young
fellow such as there was not many to be seen like him; and he was a good
son--a good son to his mother and to me--and a child of God, too, Heaven
be praised! 'Father,' says he, 'we must try to save them;' and, with the
sound of those poor creatures' cries ringing in my ears, I dared not say
no, though the odds were fearful against us, and I was careful over
_him_, though I'd not have minded for myself. Well, sir, two others
joined us, and we succeeded in getting off; but just before we reached
the sinking vessel, a heavy sea struck us, and in a moment we were all
struggling in the water. I thought I heard Ralph--_he_ was Ralph too--I
thought I heard him just say, 'God have mercy on my poor Betsey!'--she
as you know, Master Willie--and then I knew nothing until I woke up in
a room where some kind people were rubbing me with hot flannels, and
offering me hot stuff to drink. So soon as I could speak, 'Where's
Ralph?' I says, looking round for him; and then I saw in their faces how
it was; and they came round me, treating me quite tenderly like a child,
though they were rough sailors. And one of 'em, a God-fearing man, who
had spoken a bit to us many a time when we'd no parson, was put forward
by them, and he comes and whispers to me, 'You'll see him again, George,
when the sea shall give up its dead. You'll meet before the throne of
God and of the Lamb.' Well, sir, I was but a poor frail mortal, and my
senses left me again, and I was long of coming round. But ever since
then, as I look at the wide water, I seem to hear a voice saying, the
sea shall give up its dead, and we'll meet some day before the throne of
God and of the Lamb. Yes; I'm not afraid of the open Book for him, poor
boy, for long afore that day I knew he'd taken his sailing orders under
the Great Captain. 'Father,' he's said to me, 'I know Jesus Christ has
_died_ for me; I must _live_ for him.' And when the poor body was washed
ashore, there was his little Testament in his pocket, all dripping with
the sea water. I dried it, and found it could still be read, and even
some of his marks; there's not another thing I prize so much."
Old George took the little unsightly-looking volume from his pocket, and
gave it reverently to us to look at, and Aleck and I bent over it
together, and deciphered on the title-page, in crooked lines of round
handwriting, the name, _Ralph Groves_--_his book_; and underneath was a
verse of a hymn, evidently remembered and not copied, which must have
been one of those sung amongst the Methodists on that part of the coast
where, as George told me, Ralph used to attend their meetings.
"Lord Jesus, be my constant Guide,
Then when the word is given,
Bid death's dark stream its waves divide,
And land me safe in heaven."
"You see, young gentlemen," resumed George, when we had given him back
the little book, "things which seem hard to bear--ay, and _are_ hard to
bear now--are but little things after all, and will be as nothing in
that day when all wrong words and tempers will seem great things, far
greater than we sometimes think."
Aleck and I had listened with full hearts to Groves's touching account
of his son's death, and it was in a subdued quiet manner that we rose up
from our meal and settled ourselves again in the boat. There was
evidently an inward struggle going on in my cousin's mind, and I almost
feared that he was going to ask my pardon, which I should have disliked,
knowing myself to be so much the most in the wrong. It was quite a
relief to find that in this I was mistaken; he only remained, as before,
very silent; and I, too, was silent, and found myself, with eyes fixed
on the water, thinking of George's son, and of the opened Book, and
wondering concerning the things written therein, and whether all that
had happened this day would be found there; whilst old George's words
seemed to repeat themselves over in my mind, and I kept saying to
myself, "The loss of the ship will be a very little thing then, whilst
all wrong words and tempers will seem greater than we think."
We had not resumed our search very long, when Aleck declared that he saw
something white in the distance which he thought was the little vessel.
We all eagerly turned our eyes in the direction indicated, and although
no one felt very sure that we had at last discovered the object of our
search, there was sufficient uncertainty to make us eager in pursuit. We
had to tack frequently, but at last reached the little white thing which
inspired our hopes, and, alas! discovered that it was only a whitened
branch of a tree washed out from shore, on which the wet leaves
glistened and shone in the afternoon sun. It was a fresh disappointment
to us all, and the time our chase had occupied prevented the possibility
of any further research. Even as it was, we were quite late in reaching
the Cove, and found that my father had been on the watch for us with his
telescope, and had been greatly perplexed by the erratic character of
our movements.
Of course he was instantly told the tragical history of our day. Aleck,
whose sorrow had been renewed by our fruitless search, did not hesitate
to lay emphasis upon the fact that I had been left alone at the Cove;
and I was quite startled by the quick abrupt manner in which my father
turned round to me and said,--
"Willie, did you meddle with the ship or the rope whilst Aleck was
away?"
But, thankful that the inquiry took this form, I was able to answer
unhesitatingly,--
"No, papa, I did not touch the boat once, or the rope either, this
morning, and it's very, very wrong of Aleck to say that I did."
Whilst Aleck, the dark angry look flashing once again from his eyes,
exclaimed,--
"I know he hated my having the yacht; I'm sure he wanted me to lose it."
Mr. Gordon, although as much shocked at this outburst as George had
been, was not disposed to treat the matter quite as he had done.
That both of us were guilty of wrong temper there could be no doubt, but
he saw also that there was still something to be cleared up; and instead
of quenching the subject by telling us we had both behaved badly, and
deserved to be unhappy, as is the self-indulgent custom of many grown-up
people in the matter of children's quarrels, he forbade any further
recrimination, and after dinner was over, calmly and quietly inquired
into every particular of our story, with as much care as if he had been
on his magistrate's bench in court, and this were a case of great
importance; first questioning Aleck, and then myself.
As my examination drew to a close, however, Aleck once again burst in
with the determined assertion that I knew more than I had said.
My mother, who was present, was indignant at his persistency, saying
that in all my life I had never told a lie, and it was unpardonable thus
to speak of me; whilst my father simply said, "Since you are not able to
conduct yourself with propriety, Aleck, you must go to bed." And my
cousin left the room accordingly, whilst I was subjected to the moral
torture of a further cross-examination; from which, however, strong in
the distinct assertion that I had not touched either rope or boat, I
came off clear.
One step, indeed, my father gained, in the course of his inquiry,
towards the truth. In answer to one of his questions, I used the
pronoun _we_.
"Who's _we_?" asked my father, quickly.
"Frisk and I, papa."
"Then you had Frisk with you, and I suppose as playful as usual?"
"Yes, papa."
"Did Frisk get at the ship or the rope, do you think?"
"I never saw him touch the ship; I don't think he could touch it; but
then I went to the meadow to fly the kite."
"Did Frisk get near the rope?"
"Yes, papa, just before I came away; but I didn't see him slip off the
ring, though now I think he must have done so."
"You think so because you saw him going near the rope?"
"Yes, papa; but I can't tell you any more. I went to fly my kite, and
Frisk came up quite panting soon after, having run hard because I had
happened to leave him behind."
"It was the dog did it," said my father quite decidedly, turning to my
mother. "Willie, you should have been more careful; you might have known
it was not safe to leave Frisk in the Cove; but I quite believe your
word, and that you had no hand in the matter."
Then the subject was dismissed: I played a game of chess with my mother,
and finally went up to bed at the usual time, to receive, before going
to sleep, the never-omitted visit, which was the peaceful closing to so
many peaceful days.
My mother stayed but for a moment on this evening, going on almost at
once to my cousin's room.
I heard all about that visit afterwards, so that I am able to tell what
passed almost as well as if I had been present.
My mother found Aleck lying wearily and restlessly in bed, with tearful
eyes and hot flushed face, that told of sleep being by no means near.
She sat down beside him and said, "It was a sad disappointment for you,
Aleck, to lose your pretty new boat; and I daresay you feel it hard not
to have your own dear mamma to tell all about it."
Aleck tried to answer, but failed, bursting into tears instead, and my
mother talked on in her gentle loving way until the sobs grew less
frequent, and my cousin became at last quite calm. She told him that I
had always spoken the truth--she little knew--and that she could not
doubt my word, and that my father had become quite convinced it was the
mischievous work of the dog that had brought about all this trouble; and
then she made him feel how wrong it was to have accused me, instead of
believing my word; so that, before she left the room, he had told her he
was very very sorry for what he had said, and he hoped she and his uncle
would forgive him, and that he meant to ask my forgiveness also. I know
that my mother told him of a higher forgiveness that must be obtained
before he could feel at peace with his conscience, and spoke to him
somewhat in the same manner that George had, about trials great or small
being kindly and lovingly permitted by a heavenly Father.
I was almost asleep when my door opened, and the pattering of shoeless
feet announced a visitor. Aleck was groping in the dark, and, guided by
my voice, reached the bottom of my bed, discovered the mound raised by
my feet, felt his way along the ridge of my person, and having arrived
at my head, flung his arms around my neck, and kissing me warmly--in my
eye by mistake--said he could not sleep until he had told me how sorry
he was for having behaved so badly, and suspected me, and called me bad
names. He was quite sure now that Frisk had done the mischief, and he
hoped I would forgive him, adding that there was still just a chance of
finding the vessel, and that he meant to be up very early, and out by
six o'clock the next morning, to have a good look down in the White-Rock
Cove. "I daresay I shall find it after all, Willie, and if not--why, I
must finish the old thing we've been working at so long. But I once
found a knife of mine after I had lost it a week in a hay-field; so you
see I'm lucky." He kissed me again and went back to his bed, whilst I
lay tossing and wakeful, full of shame and self-reproach, and yet more
than ever built up in my determination that I would not, and could not,
confess the whole truth; it would be too great a shame and humiliation
after having so fully committed myself, and when my parents had
expressed such perfect confidence in my truthfulness.