LADY HELENA thought it best to say nothing to the children about
the fears Lord Glenarvan had expressed in his letters respecting the
decisions of the Lords of the Admiralty with regard to the document.
Nor did she mention the probable captivity of Captain Grant among the
Indians of South America. Why sadden the poor children, and damp their
newly cherished hopes? It would not in the least alter the actual
state of the case; so not a word was said, and after answering all Miss
Grant’s questions, Lady Helena began to interrogate in her turn, asking
her about her past life and her present circumstances.
It was a touching, simple story she heard in reply, and one which
increased her sympathy for the young girl.
Mary and Robert were the captain’s only children. Harry Grant lost
his wife when Robert was born, and during his long voyages he left his
little ones in charge of his cousin, a good old lady. Captain Grant was
a fearless sailor. He not only thoroughly understood navigation, but
commerce also--a two-fold qualification eminently useful to skippers in
the merchant service. He lived in Dundee, in Perthshire, Scotland. His
father, a minister of St. Katrine’s Church, had given him a thorough
education, as he believed that could never hurt anybody.
Harry’s voyages were prosperous from the first, and a few years after
Robert was born, he found himself possessed of a considerable fortune.
It was then that he projected the grand scheme which made him popular in
Scotland. Like Glenarvan, and a few noble families in the Lowlands, he
had no heart for the union with England. In his eyes the interests of
his country were not identified with those of the Anglo-Saxons, and to
give scope for personal development, he resolved to found an immense
Scotch colony on one of the ocean continents. Possibly he might have
thought that some day they would achieve their independence, as the
United States did--an example doubtless to be followed eventually by
Australia and India. But whatever might be his secret motives, such was
his dream of colonization. But, as is easily understood, the Government
opposed his plans, and put difficulties enough in his way to have killed
an ordinary man. But Harry would not be beaten. He appealed to the
patriotism of his countrymen, placed his fortune at the service of the
cause, built a ship, and manned it with a picked crew, and leaving his
children to the care of his old cousin set off to explore the great
islands of the Pacific. This was in 1861, and for twelve months, or up
to May, 1862, letters were regularly received from him, but no tidings
whatever had come since his departure from Callao, in June, and the name
of the BRITANNIA never appeared in the Shipping List.
Just at this juncture the old cousin died, and Harry Grant’s two
children were left alone in the world.
Mary Grant was then only fourteen, but she resolved to face her
situation bravely, and to devote herself entirely to her little brother,
who was still a mere child. By dint of close economy, combined with tact
and prudence, she managed to support and educate him, working day
and night, denying herself everything, that she might give him all he
needed, watching over him and caring for him like a mother.
The two children were living in this touching manner in Dundee,
struggling patiently and courageously with their poverty. Mary thought
only of her brother, and indulged in dreams of a prosperous future for
him. She had long given up all hope of the BRITANNIA, and was fully
persuaded that her father was dead. What, then, was her emotion when she
accidentally saw the notice in the TIMES!
She never hesitated for an instant as to the course she should adopt,
but determined to go to Dumbartonshire immediately, to learn the best
and worst. Even if she were to be told that her father’s lifeless body
had been found on a distant shore, or in the bottom of some abandoned
ship, it would be a relief from incessant doubt and torturing suspense.
She told her brother about the advertisement, and the two children
started off together that same day for Perth, where they took the train,
and arrived in the evening at Malcolm Castle.
Such was Mary Grant’s sorrowful story, and she recounted it in so simple
and unaffected a manner, that it was evident she never thought her
conduct had been that of a heroine through those long trying years.
But Lady Helena thought it for her, and more than once she put her arms
round both the children, and could not restrain her tears.
As for Robert, he seemed to have heard these particulars for the first
time. All the while his sister was speaking, he gazed at her with
wide-open eyes, only knowing now how much she had done and suffered for
him; and, as she ended, he flung himself on her neck, and exclaimed,
“Oh, mamma! My dear little mamma!”
It was quite dark by this time, and Lady Helena made the children go to
bed, for she knew they must be tired after their journey. They were soon
both sound asleep, dreaming of happy days.
After they had retired. Lady Helena sent for Major McNabbs, and told him
the incidents of the evening.
“That Mary Grant must be a brave girl,” said the Major.
“I only hope my husband will succeed, for the poor children’s sake,”
said his cousin. “It would be terrible for them if he did not.”
“He will be sure to succeed, or the Lords of the Admiralty must have
hearts harder than Portland stone.”
But, notwithstanding McNabbs’s assurance, Lady Helena passed the night
in great anxiety, and could not close her eyes.
Mary Grant and her brother were up very early next morning, and were
walking about in the courtyard when they heard the sound of a carriage
approaching. It was Lord Glenarvan; and, almost immediately, Lady Helena
and the Major came out to meet him.
Lady Helena flew toward her husband the moment he alighted; but he
embraced her silently, and looked gloomy and disappointed--indeed, even
furious.
“Well, Edward?” she said; “tell me.”
“Well, Helena, dear; those people have no heart!”
“They have refused?”
“Yes. They have refused me a ship! They talked of the millions that
had been wasted in search for Franklin, and declared the document was
obscure and unintelligible. And, then, they said it was two years now
since they were cast away, and there was little chance of finding them.
Besides, they would have it that the Indians, who made them prisoners,
would have dragged them into the interior, and it was impossible, they
said, to hunt all through Patagonia for three men--three Scotchmen;
that the search would be vain and perilous, and cost more lives than it
saved. In short, they assigned all the reasons that people invent
who have made up their minds to refuse. The truth is, they remembered
Captain Grant’s projects, and that is the secret of the whole affair. So
the poor fellow is lost for ever.”
“My father! my poor father!” cried Mary Grant, throwing herself on her
knees before Lord Glenarvan, who exclaimed in amazement:
“Your father? What? Is this Miss--”
“Yes, Edward,” said Lady Helena; “this is Miss Mary Grant and
her brother, the two children condemned to orphanage by the cruel
Admiralty!”
“Oh! Miss Grant,” said Lord Glenarvan, raising the young girl, “if I had
known of your presence--”
He said no more, and there was a painful silence in the courtyard,
broken only by sobs. No one spoke, but the very attitude of both
servants and masters spoke their indignation at the conduct of the
English Government.
At last the Major said, addressing Lord Glenarvan: “Then you have no
hope whatever?”
“None,” was the reply.
“Very well, then,” exclaimed little Robert, “I’ll go and speak to
those people myself, and we’ll see if they--” He did not complete his
sentence, for his sister stopped him; but his clenched fists showed his
intentions were the reverse of pacific.
“No, Robert,” said Mary Grant, “we will thank this noble lord and lady
for what they have done for us, and never cease to think of them with
gratitude; and then we’ll both go together.”
“Mary!” said Lady Helena, in a tone of surprise.
“Go where?” asked Lord Glenarvan.
“I am going to throw myself at the Queen’s feet, and we shall see if she
will turn a deaf ear to the prayers of two children, who implore their
father’s life.”
Lord Glenarvan shook his head; not that he doubted the kind heart of her
Majesty, but he knew Mary would never gain access to her. Suppliants but
too rarely reach the steps of a throne; it seems as if royal palaces
had the same inscription on their doors that the English have on their
ships: _Passengers are requested not to speak to the man at the wheel_.
Lady Glenarvan understood what was passing in her husband’s mind, and
she felt the young girl’s attempt would be useless, and only plunge the
poor children in deeper despair. Suddenly, a grand, generous purpose
fired her soul, and she called out: “Mary Grant! wait, my child, and
listen to what I’m going to say.”
Mary had just taken her brother by the hand, and turned to go away; but
she stepped back at Lady Helena’s bidding.
The young wife went up to her husband, and said, with tears in her eyes,
though her voice was firm, and her face beamed with animation: “Edward,
when Captain Grant wrote that letter and threw it into the sea,
he committed it to the care of God. God has sent it to us--to us!
Undoubtedly God intends us to undertake the rescue of these poor men.”
“What do you mean, Helena?”
“I mean this, that we ought to think ourselves fortunate if we can begin
our married life with a good action. Well, you know, Edward, that to
please me you planned a pleasure trip; but what could give us such
genuine pleasure, or be so useful, as to save those unfortunate fellows,
cast off by their country?”
“Helena!” exclaimed Lord Glenarvan.
“Yes, Edward, you understand me. The DUNCAN is a good strong ship, she
can venture in the Southern Seas, or go round the world if necessary.
Let us go, Edward; let us start off and search for Captain Grant!”
Lord Glenarvan made no reply to this bold proposition, but smiled, and,
holding out his arms, drew his wife into a close, fond embrace. Mary and
Robert seized her hands, and covered them with kisses; and the servants
who thronged the courtyard, and had been witnesses of this touching
scene, shouted with one voice, “Hurrah for the Lady of Luss. Three
cheers for Lord and Lady Glenarvan!”