friend had disappeared. Almost at the same moment the end of the mast
re-appeared, and struck our hero on the side with terrible violence. In
spite of the blow, however, he was able to free the captain, who was
caught by several strong arms, and hauled inboard at the same moment
that his rescuer laid hold of one of the hanging life-lines.
While they were still heaving at the captain, David Bowers heard Jeff's
voice--
"Your hand, Davy!"
The stout coastguardsman was not slow to obey and he received a grip
like that of a drowning man; but his mate made no other effort to save
himself.
"Help here, two of you," cried Bowers.
Another moment, and six brawny arms embraced Jeff, and lifted him into
the boat.
"Not hurt, I hope, Jeff?"
"Not much, Davy--at least not to speak of; only I'm a bit stunned. Just
let me lie here. One o' the _North Star's_ men can take my oar."
There was no time for delicate attentions or inquiries in the
circumstances, for the wreck of the mainmast had already given the boat,
strong though it was, some damaging lunges as it shot wildly to and fro
in the mad sea.
"All there?" demanded the coxswain of the saved men, who had been
rapidly counting their numbers.
"All here, thank God!" answered Captain Millet.
"Haul off, lads!"
The men laid hold of the hawser, and hauled with a will--not a moment
too soon, for the wreck was breaking up, and the sea around was strewn
with heavy timbers. Having hauled the boat up to her anchor, the latter
was got in, and the oars were shipped. These last being made fast to
the boat with strong lines, had not been lost in all the turmoil, though
two of them were broken. They were replaced, however, by spare oars;
and then the lifeboat, being pulled out of danger, hoisted her scrap of
sail and scudded away gaily before the wind for the shore with her
rescued freight.
Of course the news spread like wildfire that the lifeboat had come in
with the crew of the wrecked _North Star_--some said the whole crew,
others, part of the crew; for verbal reports of this kind never do
coincide after travelling a short way.
"Jeff, I must go straight to my sister, and be first wi' the news," said
Captain Millet on landing. "You said my Rosebud is with her just now?"
"Yes, I'll go with 'ee, captain."
"Come along, then, lad; but I fear you've got hurt. You're sure it
isn't broken ribs?"
"Oh, nothing to speak of," replied the youth, with a light laugh.
"First however, I must telegraph to the owners," said the captain.
This duty performed, and his men comfortably housed in a neighbouring
inn, Captain Millet and Jeff went off to the cottage. It was about two
in the morning when they reached it. No one had yet been there. In his
excited state of mind, the captain, who had no nerves, thundered at the
door.
If there was one thing that Miss Millet had a horror of, it was
housebreakers. She leaped out of bed, and began to dress in terror,
having roused Rose, who slept with her.
"Burglars never thunder like that, auntie," suggested Rose, as she
hastily threw on her garments.
Miss Millet admitted the force of the argument and then, somewhat
relieved, concluded that it must be tipsy men. Under this impression
she raised the window-sash--her bedroom being on the upper floor--and
looked timidly out.
"Go away, bad, naughty men!" she said, in a remonstrative tone. "If you
don't I shall send for the police!"
"Why, Molly, don't you know me?"
"Brother!" shrieked Miss Millet.
"Father!" exclaimed the Rosebud.
Need we say that, after a few more hurried touches to costume, the door
was opened, and the untimely visitors were admitted? Need we add that
when Rose, with a little cry of joy, leaped into her father's arms and
received a paternal hug, she leaped out of them again with a little
shriek of surprise?
"Father, you're all wet! a perfect sponge!"
"True, darling, I forgot! I've just been wrecked, and rescued by the
lifeboat through God's great mercy, 'long with all my crew; and there,"
he added, pointing to Jeff, "stands the man that saved my life."
If Rose loved the young coastguardsman before, she absolutely idolised
him now. Something of the feeling must have betrayed itself on her fair
face, for Jeff made a step towards her, as if under an irresistible
impulse to seize her hand.
But at that moment he experienced an agonising sensation of pain, and,
staggering backwards, sat down--almost fell--upon the sofa.
"Nothing--nothing," he replied, to the anxious inquiries of Miss Millet.
"Only a little pain, caused by the rap I got from that mast. Come now,
auntie, don't fuss about me, but sit down and hear what the captain has
got to say."
CHAPTER FIVE.
MISS MILLET RECEIVES A SURPRISE, ROSEBUD A DISAPPOINTMENT, AND OUR HERO
ANOTHER BLOW.
Miss Millet was one of those cheery, unselfish, active-minded women who
are not easily thrown off their balance--deranged, as the French say--by
untoward circumstances.
The arrival of any two friends at two in the morning would have failed
to disturb the good nature or weaken the hospitality of that amiable
creature. Her joy, therefore, at the sudden, though untimely,
appearance of her brother and friend was not marred by selfish
considerations; and although she was eager to bear what the captain had
to say, she would not let him begin until he and Jeff had retired to an
attic chamber and put on dry habiliments.
How male attire came to be so handy in a spinster's house is easily
accounted for by the fact that her regard for the memory of her departed
father was so great as to have induced her to leave his hat and stick in
the passage in their wonted places after his death, and to leave
undisturbed the chest of drawers which contained the greater part of his
wardrobe. Nothing short of absolute necessity would have induced Miss
Millet to disturb these sacred relics; but she knew that death might
result from sitting in drenched clothes, and her well-balanced mind at
once pointed out that here was a case which demanded a sacrifice. She
therefore bowed to the inevitable, and handed her brother the key of the
chest of drawers.
As the late Mr Millet had been a large man, the result was that her
visitors were admirably fitted out--the only disadvantage being that the
captain had to turn up the legs of the trousers and the cuffs of the
coat.
Meanwhile Miss Millet lighted a gas-stove, which she had always ready
for invalid purposes, and Rose arranged the table, so that when their
visitors returned to the parlour, they were greeted with the sight of
food and the singing of the tea-kettle.
"I can offer you brandy, brother," said the little hostess, "_as a
medicine_!"
"Thankee, Molly--not even as a medicine," said the captain, with a
benignant look; "tea is better in the circumstances. I can speak from a
vast amount of experience. But of course I speak only for myself. I
don't know what Jeff's principles--"
"My principles," interrupted the coastguardsman, "are to leave every man
to judge for himself. My judgment for myself is, that, as I don't
require strong drink, I'm much better without it."
"My principles go much further than that," said Miss Millet who was an
enthusiastic total abstainer. "The Bible justifies me in denying myself
the use of wine and all spirituous liquors _for my brother's sake_, so
that I may set him an example, and also have more weight when I reason
with him, and try to get him to adopt my views."
"Why, Molly, to hear you talk like that about giving up drink for your
brother's sake, one would think that I had bin a tippler all my life!"
"You know that I refer to my brother--man, brother."
"Ah, of course--of course; and also your sister-woman, I suppose," cried
the captain, seizing the loaf and beginning to cut it into
inch-and-a-half slices. "What's _your_ opinion, Rosebud, on the drink
question?"
Rose, whose cheeks emulated her namesake flower, replied that, never
having tasted wine or spirits in her life, or thought upon the drink
question at all, she had no opinion to express.
"Long may you continue in that innocent and humble state of mind, my
Rosebud," cried the captain, with a laugh which caused him to choke on
his first mouthful of tea. After recovering himself and wiping his
eyes, he said--
"Now, Moll, I must tell you all about the wreck;" on which he launched
out into a graphic description of what the reader already knows.
You may be sure that he did not underrate the services and heroism of
Jeff, who sat wonderfully silent during the recital, and only
acknowledged references to himself with a faint smile.
"But, brother," exclaimed Miss Millet, with sudden energy when he had
finished, "what will the consequences of this wreck be?"
"The consequences, my dear, will be that the owners will lose a good
many thousand pounds, for neither ship nor cargo were insured. An' it
sarves 'em right for the vessel was not fit to go to sea; an' they knew
it, but were too graspin' to go to the expense o' refittin'. Besides,
they've bin what they call so lucky in past years that they thought, I
fancy, there was no fear o' their luck departin'."
"But I was not thinking of the owners, brother; I was thinking of the
consequences to yourself."
"Why, as to that, Molly, as I've lost my ship, I'm pretty safe to lose
my situation; for, from what I know of the owners, they are sure to lay
all the blame they can upon my shoulders, so that I won't find it easy
to get another ship. Worse than all, I had made a little private
adventure of my own, which was very successful, and the result o' which
I was bringin' home in gold-dust; and now every nugget o' that is at the
bottom o' the sea. So you see, Molly, it's loss an' disaster
everywhere--nothin' but a black horizon all round."
Jeff glanced quickly at Miss Millet. This seemed to bear somewhat on
their recent discussions. Miss Millet as quickly returned the glance.
"I know what you are thinking, Jeff," she said, with an intelligent
look.
"Well, auntie," returned the youth, "it does seem hard to think that any
good can come out of all this--doesn't it?"
"Young man," said the captain, regarding Jeff with an almost stern look,
"if a savage were taken into a factory and shown the whirling wheels and
bands and rollers working in all directions, and saw filthy old rags
boiled and mixed up with grass and evil-smelling substances, and torn to
shreds and reduced to pulp in the midst of dirt and clattering noise and
apparent confusion; and if that savage were to say, `Surely nothin' good
can come out of all this!' wouldn't you--knowin' that great rolls of
fair and spotless paper were to come out of it--pronounce that savage a
fool, or, at least, a presumptuous fellow?"
"True, captain; I accept the rebuke," said Jeff, with a short laugh and
a swift glance at Rose, who, however, was gazing demurely at her
tea-cup, as if lost in the contemplation of its pattern. Possibly she
was thinking of the absurdity of taking tea at all at such an hour!
"Well, then, Jeff," continued the captain, "don't you go and judge
unfinished work. Perfect men and women are, in this world, only in
process of manufacture. When you see them finished, you'll be better
able to judge of the process."
Jeff did not quite agree with his friend; for, gazing at Rose, he could
not help feeling that at least one woman had, to his mind, been almost
perfectly finished even here! However, he said nothing.
At this point the conversation was turned by Miss Millet suddenly
recalling to mind her brother's generous friend in China.
"You have no idea, Dick, how much good I have been able to do with that
money. Of course it could not pay for the swimming-bath, or the church,
or but here, I have a note of it all."
She pulled a soiled red note-book from her pocket and was about to refer
to it, when she was arrested by the grave, sad expression that had
overspread her brother's countenance.
"Ah, Molly," he said, "dear Clara Nibsworth was dying when I last saw
her, and I fear her father won't survive her long. You remember, I told
you the poor girl was delicate and her father old, and the excitement
and exertion of that night of the fire was too much for both of them.
When I arrived this time in China, I took a run up to their place to see
them, and found Clara almost at the point of death. I had little time
to spare, and meant to have returned the next day; but the poor
broken-down father entreated me so earnestly to remain that I at last
agreed to spend three days wi' them. Durin' that time I read the Bible
a good deal to the poor girl, and found that she had got her feet firm
on the Rock of Ages. She was very grateful, poor thing, and I never saw
one so unselfish. She had little thought about herself, although dyin'
and in great sufferin'. Her chief anxiety was about her old father, and
what he would do when she was gone.
"It was impossible for me to stay to the end, for no one could guess how
long the poor thing would hold out. I did my best to comfort the
father, and then I left, bringing away a kind message to you, my poor
Rosebud. She seems to have loved you dearly, and said you were very
kind to her at school."
Rose had covered her face with her hands, and with difficulty restrained
her tears.
"But you said the doctors had _some_ hope, father; didn't you?" she
asked.
"No, darling, the doctors had none--no more had I. It was her poor
father who hoped against hope. Death was written on her sweet face, and
it could not be far off. I doubt not she is now with the Lord. When I
was leaving, she gave me a small packet for you; but that, with
everything else in the _North Star_, has gone to the bottom. But we
must be goin' now," continued the captain, rising. "I see Jeff is
gettin' wearied--an' no wonder. Besides, it won't do to keep you two up
here talkin' till daylight."
Jeff protested that he was not weary--that in such company it was
impossible for him to tire! but Rose was too much distressed by her
father's narrative to observe the compliment.
Still, in spite of his protest, there was something in our hero's manner
and look which belied his words; and when he returned to the coastguard
station that day, and was about to lie down for much-needed repose, his
friend and mate, David Bowers, was surprised to see him turn deadly
pale, stagger, and fall on his bed in a state of insensibility.
"Hallo! Jeff, what's wrong?" exclaimed Bowers, starting up, seizing his
friend's arm, and giving him a shake, for he was much puzzled. To see a
man knocked into a state of insensibility was nothing new or unfamiliar
to Bowers, but to see a powerful young fellow like Jeff go off in a
fainting fit like a woman was quite out of his experience.
Jeff, however, remained deaf to his mate's hallo! and when at last a
doctor was fetched, it was found that he had been seriously injured;
insomuch that the medical man stood amazed when he heard how he had
walked several miles and sat up for several hours after his exertions
and accident at the wreck. That medical man, you see, happened to be an
old bachelor, and probably did not know what love can accomplish!
"I very much fear," he said to Captain Millet, after inspecting his
patient, "that the poor fellow has received some bad internal injuries.
The mast, or whatever it was, must have struck him a tremendous blow,
for his side is severely bruised, and two of his ribs are broken."
"Pretty tough ribs to break, too," remarked the captain, with a look of
profound distress.
"You are right," returned the doctor; "remarkably tough, but not quite
fitted to withstand such a powerful battering-ram as the mainmast of a
six-hundred-ton barque."
"Now, doctor, what's to be done with him? You see, the poor young
fellow is not only my friend, but he has saved my life, so I feel bound
to look well after him; and this isn't quite the sort o' place to be ill
in," he added, looking round the somewhat bare apartment, whose walls
were adorned with carbines and cutlasses.
"The wisest thing for him to do is to go into hospital, where he will
receive the best of medical treatment and careful nursing."
"Wouldn't the nursing of an old lady that loves him like a mother, and a
comfortable cottage, do as well?"
"No doubt it would," said the doctor, with a smile, "if he also had
proper medical attendance--"
"Just so. Well, that's all settled, then," interrupted the captain.
"I'll have him removed at once, and you'll attend him, doctor--who
better?--that is, if you can spare the time."
The doctor was quite ready to spare the time, and the captain bustled
off to tell his sister what was in store for her, and to order Rosebud
to pack up and return to school without delay, so as to make room for
the patient.
Great was his astonishment that his Rosebud burst into tears on
receiving the news.
"My Bud, my darling, don't cry," he said, tenderly drawing the fair head
to his rugged bosom. "I know it must be a great disappointment to have
a week cut off your holidays, but I'll go down to Folkestone with you,
an' take a lodging there, an you an' I will have a jolly time of it
together--till I get another ship--"
"Oh! father, it's not _that_!" exclaimed poor Rose almost indignantly;
"it's--it's--"
Not being able to explain exactly what it was that ailed her, she took
refuge in another flood of tears.
"Oh!" she thought to herself, "if I might only stay and nurse him!" but
she blushed at the very thought, for she was well aware that she knew no
more about scientific nursing than a tortoiseshell cat! Three months of
the most tender and careful nursing by Miss Millet failed, however, to
set Jeffrey Benson on his legs. He was very patient and courageous.
Hope was strong, and he listened with approval and gratitude to his
nurse's teachings.
There came a day, however, which tried him.
"You think me not much better, doctor?" he asked, somewhat anxiously.
"Not much," returned the doctor, in a low, tender tone; "and I fear that
you must make up your mind never again to be quite the same man you
were."
"Never again?" exclaimed the youth, in startled surprise.
The doctor said nothing, but his look was--"never again."
CHAPTER SIX.
GOOD NEWS TO THE CAPTAIN--ALSO TO JEFF.
There is a period, probably, in the life of every man, when a feeling
akin to despair creeps over him, and the natural tendency of his heart
to rebel against his Maker becomes unquestionable. There may be some on
whom this epoch descends gently--others, perhaps, who may even question
whether they have met with it at all; but there must be many, of whom
Jeff was one, on whom it comes like a thunderbolt, scathing for a time
all the finer qualities of heart and mind.
"If it had only come at a later period of life, or in some other form,
auntie," he said one day, as he lay on a sofa at the open window of the
cottage, looking out upon the sea; "but to be bowled over at my age,
when the world was all before me, and I was so well able--physically, at
least--to fight my way. It is terrible, and seems so outrageous! What
good can possibly come of rendering a young man helpless--a strong,
capable machine, that might do so much good in the world, useless?"
He spoke in an almost querulous tone, and looked inquiringly in his
nurse's face. It did not occur to the youth, as he looked at her, that
the weak-bodied, soft, and gentle creature herself had been, and still
was, doing more good to the world than a hundred young men such as he!
Miss Millet's face was a wholesome one to look into. She did not shake
her head and look solemn or shocked. Neither did she laugh at his
petulance. She merely said, with the sweetest of little smiles, "You
may live, Jeff, to be a very useful machine yet; if not _quite_ as
strong as you were--though even that is uncertain, for doctors are
fallible, you know. Never forget that, Jeff--doctors are fallible.
Besides, your living at all shows that God has something for you to do
for Him."
"Nonsense, auntie. If that is true of me, it is just as true of
hundreds of men who live and die without making the smallest attempt to
accomplish any work for God. Yet He lets them live for many years."
"Quite true," returned Miss Millet; "and God _has_ work for all these
men to do, though many of them refuse to do it. But I feel sure that
that won't be your case, Jeff. He finds work just suited to our
capacities--at the time we need it, too, if we are only willing. Why,
in my own very case, has He not sent you to me to be nursed, just as I
had finished organising the new night-classes for the usher-boys; and I
was puzzled--absolutely puzzled--as to what I should do next and here
you step in, requiring my assistance, and giving me full employment."
"That's it--that's it," returned Jeff hastily. "I am without means, and
a burden on you and Captain Millet. Oh! it is hard--very hard!"
"Yes, indeed, it _is_ hard to bear. Of course that is what you mean,
for, as God has done it we cannot suppose anything that He does is
really hard. If your illness had been the result of dissipation, now,
or through your own fault, you could not have said exactly it was God's
doing; but when it was the result of noble self-sacrifice--"
"Come, come, auntie; don't make me more vain than I am. I'm bad enough
as it is, and--and--I'm _very_ weary."
The poor youth's head fell back on the pillow, and he sighed deeply as
his nurse brought him some strengthening food. He needed it much, for
he was reduced to a mere shadow of his former self.
His fine eyes had become quite awful in their size and solemnity. His
once ruddy cheeks were hollow. His well-formed nose had become pinched,
and his garments hung on, rather than clothed, a huge skeleton.
During all Jeff's illness Captain Millet was unremitting in his
attentions, insomuch that a certain careworn expression began to take up
its settled abode on his countenance. But this was not altogether owing
to sympathy with his friend, it was partly the consequence of his
financial affairs.
Having lost his situation, as he had expected, he found it difficult to
procure another, and was under the necessity of living on the small
capital which he had accumulated in the course of laborious years. Had
his own subsistence been all his care, he would have had little trouble;
but Rose had to be supported and educated, his sister had to be
assisted, his charities had to be kept up, and now Jeff Benson had to be
maintained, and his doctor paid. The worst of it all was, that he could
not talk on the subject to any of the three, which, to a sympathetic
soul, was uncommonly hard--but unavoidable.
"Yes, quite unavoidable," he muttered to himself one evening, when alone
in his lodging. "They think I'm a rich old fellow, but I daren't say a
word. If I did, Jeff would refuse to eat another bite, an' that would
kill him. If I told Rosebud, it could do no good, and would only make
her miserable. If I told Molly, I--I really don't know what she'd do.
She'd founder, I think. No, I must go on sailin' under false colours.
It's a comfort, anyhow, to know that the funds will last some little
time yet, even at the present rate of expenditure; but it's perplexin'--
very."
He shook his head, wrinkled his brows, and then, rising, took a
well-worn pocket-Bible from a shelf, and sought consolation therein.
Some time after that Captain Millet was seated in the same room, about
the same hour, meditating on the same subject, with a few additional
wrinkles on his brow, when he received a letter.
"From Hong Kong," he muttered, opening it, and putting on his glasses.
The changes in his expressive face as he read were striking, and might
have been instructive. Sadness first--then surprise--then blazing
astonishment--then a pursing of the mouth and a prolonged whistle,
followed by an expressive slap on the thigh. Then, crumpling the letter
into his pocket he put on his glazed hat, sallied forth, and took the
way to his sister's cottage.
At that cottage, about the same time, a great change had taken place in
Jeff Benson--spiritually, not physically, though even in the latter
respect he was at all events not worse than usual. Having gone from bad
to worse in his rebellion, he had at last reached that lowest depth
wherein he not only despaired of the doctor's power to cure him, and his
own power of constitution, but began silently, and in his own mind, to
charge his Maker with having made a complete failure in his creation.
"Life is a muddle, auntie, altogether!" he exclaimed when he reached
this point. It was the lowest ebb--hopeless despair alike of himself
and his God.