A CONSULTATION.
Benny was in a state of mind bordering on despair when the crew
postponed any decided action on the letter from this uncle of whom
he had never heard before. For the moment it seemed as if almost any
decision would have been better than the suspense.
It appeared as if his comrades avoided even so much as looking toward
him, and this gave him a sense of loneliness such as had come into his
heart when he found himself amid strangers, the only survivor of the
_Amazonia_.
As a matter of fact there was not a member of the crew but that would
have enjoyed taking the lad in his arms and declaring that he should
never leave the station, no matter how many uncles might send for him;
but every man understood the question was too important to be decided
hastily, and also that it would be cruel, perhaps, to speak such words
as might influence the boy.
Benny waited a moment or more, hoping Sam Hardy might give him some
consolation; but as the surfman remained silent with averted face,
the sore-hearted lad, gathering Fluff in his arms, went out upon the
wind-swept rocks to struggle as best he might with the great grief
which had so suddenly come upon him.
Seating himself within view of the reef upon which the _Amazonia_ had
gone to pieces, and covering Fluff with his coat as best he might, the
lad gave himself up to reflection--not as to what was best for him to
do regarding the matter of going to his uncle; but concerning the cruel
tricks which fortune seemed to be playing him.
“I know neither mother nor Mrs. Clark would want us to go off to that
old man who never cared for us a cent’s worth till he saw the news of
the shipwreck in the papers, and it’s horrible for him to interfere
just when we’d got into such a nice place!”
The dog licked his master’s face, and interpreting this as meaning
Fluff fully agreed with him, Benny continued mournfully:
“We won’t go, Fluffy, and that’s all there is to it. If the crew say we
can’t stay here because that man claims the right to order us ’round,
we’ll run off somewhere by our own two selves, an’ see if it won’t be
possible to make another home. But we’ll never find such a pleasant
place as this, no matter how much good luck we have! It seemed as if
the men liked us, an’ after there’d been time to grow, we’d come out as
regular surfmen.”
The dog whined because he was cold, but Benny fully believed it to be
in reply.
“Of course you’re sorry, Fluff! Anybody’d be; an’ what _is_ to become
of us? You’ve got a collar and a medal, and there’s my two suits of
clothes; but we’ll need some place to sleep in the very first night of
leaving here, and where’ll we find it? The money the passengers gave us
is in the bank, and I suppose Andrew Foster will think it belongs to
him, so we can’t count on that.”
Fluff twisted and squirmed until he escaped from his master’s arms, for
the embrace was much too close to please him, and as he capered and
danced, begging to be taken back to the station Benny’s grief increased:
“I know you want to stay here, Fluffy; but how can I fix things? It’s
going to be terrible hard on you to go where folks won’t want you in
the house ’cause you’re a dog, an’ we can’t be together much of the
time. Oh, what shall we do, you poor little man!”
Believing himself hidden from view of the life savers, the lad gave way
to the grief in his heart, and, lying face downward upon the rocks, he
allowed the tears to flow unchecked.
It was Sam Hardy who, missing Benny from the station, had come out
fearing to find him in much such a frame of mind.
During two or three minutes the kindly-hearted surfman stood over him
in silence, while Fluff remained near by wagging his tail as if asking
what had gone wrong so suddenly, and then, bending over, Sam Hardy
lifted the sorrowing boy in his arms.
“Look you, lad, it’s wrong to get all down to the heel in this fashion
when a question comes up which is to be settled as nearly for your good
as we can figger it out. A life-savin’ station ain’t the kind of a home
which is needed by a boy of your age.”
“It’s the only kind I want!” Benny sobbed. “Fluffy an’ I’ll never find
another so good!”
“That’s what you believe now, No. 8; but----”
“Why do you call me No. 8? If I’m to be sent away from here it shows I
never was one of the crew!”
“But you have been, an’ always will be, Benny, lad. Even if you go away
we shall never speak or think of you except as ‘No. 8,’ the gritty
little mate who brought something like sunshine into the dull station,
and kept the gleam there every minute he stayed with us.”
“Don’t talk like that, Mr. Hardy, _please_ don’t talk like that! When
you say you’re sorry, and yet keep on talking as if it was settled that
I’d got to go, it breaks me all up!”
“Poor little chicken, it strikes me you’re badly broken up already!”
And Sam stroked the boy’s hair with his huge, rough hand, while Fluff
crept under the life saver’s arm as if asking that he be given due
share of the caresses. “If we of the crew did only that which pleased
us best, you’d never have a show for leavin’; but, as Tom Downey says,
we’re bound to think only of what may be for your good, an’ in making
up our minds it is with the hope we’ll go right for your sake.”
“That man, Andrew Foster, don’t care about Fluffy an’ me, ’cause he
never so much as saw us!”
“That same thought has been in my mind, Benny, lad, an’ Joe Cushing
has been makin’ similar talk. If we were certain he’d care for you as
we do, the matter would be settled, for it stands to reason you should
have a different home than this. But I don’t like the way his letter
reads, nor do the rest of the boys; so you see, lad, the question ain’t
settled by a long chalk yet.”
“Please try to make the men want to keep me! Please try, Mr. Hardy.”
“Bless your heart, No. 8, there’s no need of my tryin’ to do anything
of the kind. The only trouble is we’re so eager for you to stay
that we’re afraid of ourselves--afraid we sha’n’t be actin’ square
by you. Here’s Tom Downey been sayin’ that he’d be willin’ to give
up ten dollars a month out of his pay for so long a time as he is in
the service, for the sake of havin’ you ’round, an’ Dick Sawyer is
threatenin’ all sorts of terrible things against your uncle because he
wrote the letter. We want you, lad, as badly as you want to be with us,
an’ that’s what’s makin’ it so hard to settle the matter.”
Benny twined his arms around the surfman’s neck, and the latter,
lifting him as tenderly as he would an infant, carried him back to
the station, Fluff following close at his heels, barking with delight
because they had finally decided to go in out of the cold wind.
Now it was that Benny’s grief became more intense; this time because
of the unusual tenderness and attention shown by every member of the
crew. Each man appeared as if striving to show the boy some particular
attention as proof of the esteem in which he was held, and try as he
might, No. 8 could not hold back the tears of mingled pleasure and
sorrow.
During the remainder of the day each member of the crew went around
softly, hardly speaking above a whisper, as one does when in the
presence of some great affliction, and the cook positively forbade
Benny’s going into the kitchen for the purpose of assisting in the work.
[Illustration]
“It seems as if I was going right off in the morning,” No. 8 said
confidently to Sam Hardy, his voice breaking now and then because of
the sobs. “But suppose it is decided that I must leave, will I have to
start right off?”
“Why, bless you, lad, there’d be no call for anything like that.
Writing to your uncle an’ getting an answer back will take a week at
the best, and then we shall try to--Well, there, No. 8, what’s the
sense of our talkin’ about your goin’ away? When it comes right down to
the fact, I ain’t sure as I could say that you’d best go to this Andrew
Foster, even though I might know it was for your good. Let’s put master
Fluff through his lessons, and see if we can’t work something like
cheerfulness into this crew, for it’s gettin’ to be as solemn a time as
I ever took part in.”
Fluff was ready and even eager to do what he might to dispel the gloom,
although it is not to be supposed that he had such an idea in his white
head when he obeyed the surfman’s command to “sit up and smoke his
pipe.”
During the evening the men, and with them Benny, grew more cheerful.
Now and then one would speak of what No. 8 must do as soon as the warm
weather came, as if the matter was already settled that the lad should
remain.
The cook exerted himself to prepare a most appetizing supper, and it
was served half an hour earlier than usual so that all hands, save the
lookout on the hill, might be present. The men told stories and made
jokes during the meal as if the sole object was to prevent their own
and No. 8’s thoughts from roaming into the future.
Yet after all these efforts it was impossible to impart a thorough
air of gayety to the scene, and it was with something like a sense of
relief that the crew heard the hoof-beats of a horse over the stone
road, telling that a visitor was near at hand.
Dick Sawyer opened the door to welcome this opportune arrival, and as
he peered out into the twilight an exclamation of glad surprise burst
from his lips.
“Why, it’s Mr. Bradford! Most likely he’s come to see how the new
uniform fits, an’ accordin’ to my way of thinkin’, he couldn’t have
appeared in a better time, for now we’ll be able to get a bit of advice
on a difficult question from one who is interested in the case.”
The gentleman whose coming was thus announced must have been surprised
by the warmth with which he was received. The members of the crew
greeted him as an old friend, and each appeared eager to engage him in
conversation.
Benny, holding Fluff in his arms, stood in the background, waiting
until his comrades had come to an end of their words of welcome, and,
catching a glimpse of him, Mr. Bradford made his way toward that
portion of the room, in total disregard of the fact that Dick Sawyer
was doing his best to explain how an unusually large bag of ducks might
be taken in a certain cove not far from the building.
“Why, my boy, you’re lookin’ as solemn as an owl, and even young Mr.
Fluff isn’t as cheerful as when I saw him last! What’s the matter?
Didn’t the uniform fit?”
“Oh, yes, sir, and it’s beautiful--beautiful; and I sha’n’t be able to
wear it because I’ve got to go away.”
Then a particularly big sob came into Benny’s throat, and he found it
impossible to speak further.
“Go away?” Mr. Bradford repeated in surprise, and turning to the others
he asked, “What does the lad mean?”
It was proper Tom Downey should act as spokesman, and, recognizing this
fact, he began the necessary explanations by handing the visitor the
letter which had caused so much sorrow at the station.
“Take off your overcoat, and make yourself comfortable here by the
table while you read this; then you’ll know what Benny means. But
he goes a little too far when he says he’s _got_ to leave, for we
haven’t settled the question yet, and since you’re here, if the rest
of the crew are willing, I go in for leavin’ it to you. We want him to
stay; yet are afraid of doin’ what mightn’t be to his best interests,
therefore it puts us in a bad fix, so far as makin’ up our minds is
concerned.”
Mr. Bradford looked thoroughly mystified, as he had good cause for
being, but he did as the speaker had suggested, in the way of making
himself comfortable, and then read the letter from Mr. Andrew Foster,
studying it so long that Benny began to fear perhaps he did not wish to
venture an opinion on the subject.
Meanwhile the life savers seated themselves around him, each man
looking inquiringly, eagerly, at the one whom they had thus suddenly
decided should be the judge.
Finally Mr. Bradford looked up from the paper toward Benny and asked:
“When did you hear from your uncle--before this, I mean?”
“I never knew there was such a man, and wish he’d kept his letters to
himself.”
“Was your mother sick long before she died?”
“Only two weeks, sir.”
“And didn’t she mention the name of Andrew Foster--never speak of your
Uncle Andrew?”
“I don’t think so, sir; I am sure she never said very much about him,
and I can’t remember ever having heard his name.”
“Not a very affectionate letter, eh, Downey?” and Mr. Bradford held out
the missive as if thinking the keeper might like to see it again before
replying.
“That’s the way it struck all hands of us, and is one thing which has
caused us to think perhaps it would be as well for Benny to stay here.”
“You want to keep him?”
“Yes, Mr. Bradford; we would like to have him and Fluff stay, if it so
be the lad wouldn’t be injurin’ his prospects in life. We’ve come to
look upon him as belongin’ to us in a sort of way. Perhaps you can’t
understand it; but we who live here alone, tied down to the station day
and night, get kind of peculiar, I reckon. You see, we’re mostly by
ourselves all winter, and run into whims an’ fancies more than other
men. The sea brought the boy to us, so to speak, and, even though he’s
where he can hear it, I must say a better lad never lived--leastways,
so far as my experience goes. Here’s the whole hitch: we can’t hope
to make more than a surfman out of him, and it may be the good Lord
has fitted him for something better, though he couldn’t follow a more
honest callin’. Now if this uncle of his would send him to college, and
start him out into the world as many a boy is started, we’d put aside
our own feelin’s, knowin’ No. 8 was to be benefited; but if he’s goin’
’way up there in the middle of York State to do the drudgery of a farm,
or some such kind of work, why, then, unless it’s contrary to law, we’d
hold him here in spite of his uncle.”
“Have you answered this letter?”
“No, sir. You see, it didn’t get here till a few hours ago, an’ we had
agreed not to make up our minds before to-morrow mornin’.”
“Don’t you think it would be a good idea to find out who Mr. Andrew
Foster is, and whether he’s likely to give the boy a good home?”
“It would, for a fact, sir; but how might that be done? We are not
allowed to leave the station for a longer time than twenty-four hours,
and then only one of the crew can have a furlough.”
“There are many easier methods of learning all the public may know
concerning a man than to send a messenger in search of the knowledge.
Suppose you authorize me to make the necessary inquiries--it won’t
cost you anything,--and in the course of perhaps a week I shall be
able to tell you as much regarding Benny’s uncle as his neighbors can.
I suppose, as a matter of fact, that by applying to the courts he may
have himself appointed guardian for the lad and take him away; but I
question whether an uncle who wasn’t spoken of in terms of affection by
the boy’s father and mother would take such trouble.”
“It’s no use talkin’, we ain’t fit to settle any kind of a discussion,”
Sam Hardy exclaimed emphatically. “Here we’ve been moonin’ ’round
tryin’ to make up our minds whether Benny should go or not, an’ never
once thinkin’ of what would have come into another man’s mind at the
jump. Of course we want to know who Andrew Foster is, and what he’s
likely to do for Benny? Then it’s only a question of sayin’ who will
give the boy the best start in the world.”
“An’ you’ll look after this matter for us, Mr. Bradford?” Tom Downey
asked, an expression of relief coming over his face.
“Certainly I will, and be glad of the opportunity of doing a favor for
No. 8. Cheer up, my lad,” he added turning toward Benny who, as the
conversation progressed, had been gradually drawing nearer the friendly
visitor. “You’re a long ways from leaving this crew yet, and I’ll be
surprised if the matter comes out differently from what you wish. With
all hands of us to consider which may be the best move, there shouldn’t
remain any chance for mistake. Choke back those sobs; go up and put
your uniform on, and let me see how you and Fluff C. Foster look on
parade.”
It was really astonishing what a change Mr. Bradford had wrought by a
few commonplace words.
The expression of gloom disappeared from all the faces, and the men
whose time for going on patrol had arrived set about making ready for
the duty with the greatest alacrity.
Benny ran up-stairs, eager to do as this kindly friend suggested, and
in an instant, as it were, something very like joy reigned where lately
all had been mourning.
No. 8 displayed himself in all his finery; Fluff performed his tricks
in the most approved fashion; the keeper and the surfmen told stories
which were not all concerning wrecks and loss of life; the cook made a
lobster salad as his portion of the merrymaking, and the evening which
had bade fair to be such a gloomy one, was, as all declared, the most
enjoyable that had been spent in the station for many a month.
Then, promising to report by telephone whenever he should have gained
any information, the visitor took his departure, and it was time for
Sam Hardy and No. 8 to do their share of patrol work.
“Come, lad,” the surfman said cheerily. “I had counted on your stayin’
under cover to-night; but seein’ ’s how you’re likely to hold on here,
for I believe Mr. Bradford will fix things accordin’ to our likin’, you
may just as well continue to toughen up.”
Then the two went out into the night, and it would be difficult to say
which carried the lighter heart in his bosom.