"Oh!" exclaimed the cabin-boy, with a gasp of relief and wide-open eyes,
"I've _divided_!"
"That's so, Will, and there's a considerable difference between division
and multiplication, as you'll find all through life," remarked the
teacher, with a peculiar lift of his eyebrows, as he handed back the
slate and went on his way.
More than once in his progress "for'ard" he was arrested by men who
wished hint to give advice, or clear up difficulties in reference to
subjects which his encouragement or example had induced them to take up,
and to these claims on his attention or assistance he accorded such a
ready and cheerful response that his pupils felt it to be a positive
pleasure to appeal to him, though they each professed to regret giving
him "trouble." The boatswain, who was an amiable though gruff man in
his way, expressed pretty well the feelings of the ship's company
towards our hero when he said: "I tell you, mates, I'd sooner be rubbed
up the wrong way, an' kicked down the fore hatch by Mr Brooke, than I'd
be smoothed or buttered by anybody else."
At last the fo'c'sl was reached, and there our surgeon found his
patient, Dick Darvall, awaiting him. The stout seaman's leg had been
severely bruised by a block which had fallen from aloft and struck it
during one of the recent gales.
"A good deal better to-day," said Charlie. "Does it pain you much?"
"Not nearly as much as it did yesterday, sir. It's my opinion that I'll
be all right in a day or two. Seems to me outrageous to make so much
ado about it."
"If we didn't take care of it, my man, it might cost you your limb, and
we can't afford to bury such a well-made member before its time! You
must give it perfect rest for a day or two. I'll speak to the captain
about it."
"I'd rather you didn't, sir," objected the seaman. "I feel able enough
to go about, and my mates'll think I'm shirkin' dooty."
"There's not a man a-board as'll think that o' Dick Darvall," growled
the boatswain, who had just entered and heard the last remark.
"Right, bo's'n," said Brooke, "you have well expressed the thought that
came into my own head."
"Have ye seen Samson yet, sir?" asked the boatswain, with an unusually
grave look.
"No; I was just going to inquire about him. No worse, I hope?"
"I think he is, sir. Seems to me that he ain't long for this world.
The life's bin too much for him: he never was cut out for a sailor, an'
he takes things so much to heart that I do believe worry is doin' more
than work to drive him on the rocks."
"I'll go and see him at once," said our hero.
Fred Samson, the sick man referred to, had been put into a swing-cot in
a berth amidships to give him as much rest as possible. To all
appearance he was slowly dying of consumption. When Brooke entered he
was leaning on one elbow, gazing wistfully through the port-hole close
to his head. His countenance, on which the stamp of death was evidently
imprinted, was unusually refined for one in his station in life.
"I'm glad you have come, Mr Brooke," he said slowly, as his visitor
advanced and took his thin hand.
"My poor fellow," said Charlie, in a tone of low but tender sympathy, "I
wish with all my heart I could do you any good."
"The sight of your kind face does me good," returned the sailor, with a
pause for breath between almost every other word. "I don't want you to
doctor me any more. I feel that I'm past that, but I want to give you a
message and a packet for my mother. Of course you will be in London
when you return to England. Will you find her out and deliver the
packet? It contains only the Testament she gave me at parting and a
letter."
"My dear fellow--you may depend on me," replied Brooke earnestly.
"Where does she live?"
"In Whitechapel. The full address is on the packet. The letter
enclosed tells all that I have to say."
"But you spoke of a message," said Brooke, seeing that he paused and
shut his eyes.
"Yes, yes," returned the dying man eagerly, "I forgot. Give her my dear
love, and say that my last thoughts were of herself and God. She always
feared that I was trusting too much in myself--in my own good
resolutions and reformation; so I have been--but that's past. Tell her
that God in His mercy has snapped that broken reed altogether, and
enabled me to rest my soul on Jesus."
As the dying man was much exhausted by his efforts to speak, his visitor
refrained from asking more questions. He merely whispered a comforting
text of Scripture and left him apparently sinking into a state of
repose.
Then, having bandaged the finger of a man who had carelessly cut himself
while using his knife aloft, Charlie returned to the cabin to continue
an interrupted discussion with the first mate on the subject of
astronomy.
From all which it will be seen that our hero's tendencies inclined him
to be as much as possible "all things to all men."