FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ARTHUR AND HIS COMPANIONS--DIGBY RESCUED--
REJOICINGS AT BLOXHOLME--CHRISTMAS AMUSEMENTS--THE LEADER OF THE
REVELS--THE END OF THE HOLIDAYS.
Arthur Haviland and his companions having assured the old man and idiot
boy, whom they found in the cavern, that they had no wish to do them
harm, they, after some time, succeeded in quieting their apprehensions.
In vain Arthur tried to gain more information about Digby. All he could
learn was that the captain had carried him off in the lugger to foreign
parts, and that they had all made up their minds not to come back to
England.
As it was getting late, and they had a long way to pull, Toby now
summoned Arthur to return. Arthur, however, was not satisfied with the
information he had obtained, and was unwilling to go away without
gaining some definite clue to the place to which Digby had been carried.
Finding that threats were of no avail, he tried to induce the old man
to say all he knew by the promise of rewards.
"You hear what the young gentleman says," observed Toby. "You and I
know each other, old Joe, and you know that I would not deceive you.
What Mr Haviland says, he'll do; that he will, depend on it. Come
along, sir; I know where to find him. If he's got anything to say,
he'll tell me. We haven't another moment to lose, that I know."
Saying this, Toby led the way from the cave, followed by Arthur and John
Pratt.
The weather had evidently changed very much for the worse, and the wind
was blowing strongly, and sending the spray right up to where they were
standing. Toby shook his head doubtfully; but he continued to descend.
"I thought so," he exclaimed, when they reached the bottom of the cliff.
There was old Jem with the boat partly out of the water, he hauling away
with all his might to get her out of danger; but the waves were dashing
against her stern, and threatening every instant to knock her to pieces.
They had arrived only just in time; but, by dint of working away
together, they got the boat hauled up beyond the reach of the sea. When
this was done they went back to the cave, for the wind was blowing
stronger and stronger, and it was very evident that they would not be
able to leave the place that night. They had reason to be thankful that
they had a place which would afford them so complete a shelter during
that tempestuous night. When they got back they found the old man
perfectly ready to be civil; and making themselves at home, they
rummaged, out an ample supply of food, and materials for forming beds,
which they ranged round the fire.
Toby talked for all the party, and told many of his best anecdotes and
stories. The genius of the place seemed to recall the memories of his
early days, and many a tale of smuggling life and adventure he poured
forth.
Neither Arthur nor John Pratt were inclined to talk. They were thinking
too much of poor Digby, tossing about on the wild ocean that stormy
night. Had they been able to see the terrific danger to which he was
exposed, they would have been still more alarmed. How mercifully has
God hid the future from us, as well as the scenes of peril and suffering
to which those we love at a distance may be exposed. How it would
double our anguish to feel that we could not fly to their help, that we
could afford them no relief. How foolish and wicked, then, are those
persons who try to draw aside (by devices the most absurd however) that
impenetrable veil which the Almighty, in his infinite wisdom, has placed
before our eyes. Never let us put faith in those who pretend that they
can either show the future, or bring the present, when at a distance,
before our eyes. Clairvoyants, spirit-rappers, and similar pretenders,
under whatever name they may appear, we may depend on it, are impostors.
They have been shown to be so over and over again; but like Chinese
tumbling-figures, though knocked down, they will spring up again, over
and over again, as long as dupes can be found to put faith in them.
Arthur Haviland long recollected that night in the cavern--the
flickering light of the fire; the red glow cast over some parts of the
sides and roof; and the dark, strange-shaped shadows, which passed over
others; the low voices of his companions; the howling of the wind; and
the incessant roar of the waves, as they beat against the foot of the
cliffs. He at length, however, fell asleep, and did not awake till Toby
called him, with an invitation to take a cup of coffee and a biscuit
before they embarked. He was not sorry to accept the offer.
As soon as the meal was over Toby went out, and returned with so
favourable a report of the weather, that it was agreed that they might
venture once more to embark.
Arthur repeated his promise to the old man, who undertook to bring any
information to him he could gain about Digby.
The sun was shining, and the air was keen, for the wind had got round to
the north. That, however, was an important advantage, as it sent down
the sea; and the boat, when they had launched her, though tossed about a
good deal, was able to continue her progress by keeping close in shore,
and skirting all the bays and inlets. They had gone some way, and had
just rounded a reef of rocks, whose black heads rose with threatening
aspect out of the water, when Arthur exclaimed that he thought he saw a
smoke coming out of the cliff. Toby ceased pulling, but did not speak.
He looked round on every side; several pieces of timber were floating
about, and on the shore lay a mass of cordage and broken spars.
"Some vessel was cast away not far from here last night," exclaimed
Toby, at length. "Heaven help the unfortunate fellows on board her; but
that smoke may be made by some of them who have escaped. What say you,
old Jem?"
Old Jem agreed with Toby, and told him that there was a small cave just
in there, from which the smoke might proceed.
Paddling in cautiously, for there were a good many rocks about capable
of knocking an ugly hole in the boat's bottom, as Toby observed, they
approached the cliff. The entrance to the cave on the sand was soon
perceptible. The boat reached a sandy beach. So completely did the
cliff overhang the water, and so much did it project on either side of
the cave, that only by means of a boat could anybody possibly leave it.
So Arthur remarked as he jumped with Toby and John Pratt on shore. They
could see the gleam of a fire from the interior. Arthur ran on; a
little sailor-boy was sitting over it.
"Hillo, my poor lad; we have come to help you," exclaimed Arthur.
The little sailor-boy looked up. There could be no doubt about it--
there sat Digby Heathcote.
With a shout of joy Arthur sprang forward, and lifted him up in his
arms. John Pratt, in his delight, gave him a hug which almost squeezed
the breath out of his body; and Toby Tubb seized his hand, and gave it a
shake which well nigh wrung it off. It was some moments before any one
could speak, and Digby could hurriedly give an account of what had
occurred.
"Well, I be right glad, that I be," exclaimed Toby. "Them who has gone
to their account has brought their fate upon themselves. Howsomdever,
Master Digby, come into the boat; you are cold and hungry, I'll warrant,
and will be glad of a breakfast and warm bed."
Digby was ready enough to go, but he begged that search might be made in
case any of the crew of the lugger might have been washed on shore, and
be still clinging on among the crevices of the rocks.
Toby shook his head. "It was not likely any had escaped. It was a
wonder he had done so."
Search was made, however, but there was not the sign of a living being,
nor had any of the bodies of the smugglers been washed ashore.
Toby and John Pratt insisted on taking off their overcoats to wrap up
Digby; and the former had a little brandy in a flask, which he insisted
on pouring down his throat. Digby, to his surprise, found that it
appeared very little stronger than water, a proof of how much chilled he
was, and how important a stimulant this was to him.
Little are spirit-drinkers aware of not only how much injury they are
doing themselves, but how completely they are depriving themselves of
important assistance in time of need. A glass of brandy may save the
life of a person who never touches spirits, but would have no effect on
an habitual brandy-drinker.
The voyage back to Osberton need not be further described. The
reception Digby met with from Mr and Mrs Nugent may easily be
conceived. Digby indignantly declined to go to bed, but he did not
refuse to eat a hearty breakfast, in which Arthur joined him, or to
change his sailor's clothes for a suit more fitted for the heir of
Bloxholme to appear in.
"Put up the others, however; I'll have them with me," he exclaimed.
"They will remind me of my trip in the smugglers' lugger, at all
events."
"Of its fearful termination, and of the merciful way in which you were
preserved, my dear boy," observed Mr Nugent.
"Yes, uncle, yes," said Digby; "I thought of that. I don't feel I can
ever be too thankful."
A carriage was ordered, and Mr Nugent, and Digby, and Arthur, went
inside; and John Pratt and Toby Tubb, whom Digby insisted should
accompany them, went outside; and away they rattled as fast as four
horses could gallop towards Bloxholme. Every minute was of importance
to release Mr and Mrs Heathcote from their state of suspense. The
carriage with its four smoking horses, rattled up the avenue. Almost
before John Pratt had time to jump from the box the hall-door was flung
open; Alesbury had caught sight of Digby, and hurrying down the steps
faster than he had moved for many a day, he pulled him out of the
carriage, and carried him into the house. Then Digby found himself in
his mother's arms. Then, and not till then, did he burst into tears,
but they were tears of joy and gratitude.
Poor little Kate, how she cried, too, and then she smiled and laughed;
and when she got hold of Digby she could scarcely refrain from beating
him for making her so very miserable; indeed, she gave him two or three
severe slaps, and called him naughty, dear, tiresome, good boy; and
Digby pulled her ears, and her nose, and showed his love in a variety of
other eccentric ways. Digby came in for a great deal of caressing from
all sides, of which he did not at all approve; but he submitted to it as
an unavoidable evil, and looked very much as a donkey does when harness
is about to be put on its back.
Gusty shouted and laughed louder than ever that day; and his elder
sisters kissed him as elder sisters generally do their younger brothers;
but he took that sort of thing better from them than from any one else.
Then he had to tell the story of his adventures over and over again.
John Pratt, however, was able to help him in that respect in the
servants' hall, where he did ample justice to the young Squire's
courage, and never was tired of telling all he knew about his
adventures.
Digby was a strong hardy fellow, but he was not made of iron; and, long
before dinner-time, he gave signs of being very sleepy and tired. He
consented to go to bed, provided he was called in time to get up and
dress for dinner. When, however, he was called, he was so fast asleep
that nothing could awake him; and so he was allowed to sleep on till the
following morning. It was ever afterwards a constant joke against him,
that, when he came down, he fancied that he was coming down to dinner,
and was very much surprised to find breakfast on the table.
Arthur Haviland had pretty well kept him in countenance by sleeping the
greater part of the time; and neither of them were quite themselves
again for two or three days.
Their adventures were fully a nine days' wonder; and the whole visiting
acquaintance of the family called to hear about it. Indeed, Digby had
to tell the story so often that he got weary of it; and at last insisted
that Kate should represent him, and tell it instead, as if the events
had happened to her. He did not, however, forget poor Dame Marlow, of
the death of whose grandson he had heard from some of the smugglers. He
told Mr Bowdler of the trick he had once played her, and begged him to
go and break the news to the old woman before she heard it from any one
else.
At first she would not believe that the only being she seemed to love
was lost to her for ever; and at length, when the Vicar assured her that
there was no doubt about the matter, she gave way to a fit of tears such
as she had not shed for years. Her heart was softened. The clergyman
placed before her in the clearest way the great truths of the Gospel.
Many days passed away, and many visits he had to pay, before she at all
seemed to comprehend them; but he persevered--as every true and faithful
minister of the Gospel will persevere--when he feels that a lost soul is
to be saved. At length the light seemed to dawn on her long-benighted
mind.
"You tell me wonderful things, Mr Bowdler, which I never before
understood," she said, at last. "I am a sinner, I feel that; and if I
was left to myself, I am sure that I should be lost, for I don't think
that I could undo a quarter, nor an hundredth part, for that matter, of
the sins I have committed; but as you say, that if I repent I may go to
One who will wash away my sins, I will go to Him; and I am sure, from
everything he has caused to be said in the Bible, that he will wash away
my sins, and save my soul from death."
Much more she said, showing that she fully comprehended the great truths
of the Gospel; find now her great anxiety was to warn those she had so
long misled, and she was never weary of going about, and telling them of
the Bible, and of the comfort it had been to her. At first, people
could scarcely believe their senses when they heard her talk, so
completely changed she had become, and so anxious she was to be doing
all the good in her power. She tried to make her old husband comprehend
the truths she had imbibed; but he afforded one of the numberless
examples of the danger of putting off repentance to another day. His
mind was dead, though his body was still alive, and in a short time he
sunk into the grave. Her great grief was about her grandson, to whom
she had set so bad an example, and whom she had never attempted to
direct aright. He was gone, and nothing she could do would now have any
power over his fate.
Oh, may all those who read this reflect on the incalculable harm which a
bad example may do to those younger, or in an inferior station to
themselves. If they could see it, they would start back with horror and
dismay at the result of their conduct. An idle word, an idle
expression, or an irreverent joke, may seem a light thing in their eyes,
but even words may produce a great deal of harm; much more will a
continual course of idle, careless, and bad conduct; and depend upon it,
many a younger brother and companion has been lost, body and soul, who
might have had a very different fate had those who had an influence over
him endeavoured to lead him aright.
Digby was very glad to hear the account Mr Bowdler gave of Dame Marlow,
though he probably did not understand the great importance of the
change. Kate, however, whose comprehension was far more advanced than
Digby's, did understand it fully, and, of her own accord, went and
explained the trick she had once played her, and expressed her sorrow
for it.
Digby was not quite himself again for a week or more after his dangerous
adventure, and very often in the night he used to start up in his sleep,
dreaming that he was on board the lugger, and that she was being dashed
on the rocks. The holidays, however, promised to be as pleasant as
usual. Many a delightful ride Digby got on Sweetlips; while often Kate
cantered gaily by his side, dispelling, by her cheerful conversation,
any of the over-gloomy thoughts which, in spite of his well-strung
nerves and constitutional hardihood, would occasionally occur.
The expected guests, also, arrived, and several of them had sons about
Digby's age; so that the house was full, and a very merry Christmas
party were collected.
Cousin Giles was the life and soul of the younger portion of the
community. He started all the games in the evening, and arranged all
the out-door amusements. A hard frost set in, and, as soon as the ice
bore thoroughly, skating became the order of the day. Neither Digby nor
Arthur Haviland had ever skated; indeed, only two of the boys had begun
the previous year, and they were no great adepts at the art. Skates
were, therefore, sent for, and cousin Giles undertook to be the
instructor of the party. As he said that he should be frozen if he
fastened on all the skates to his pupil's feet at the pond, he had them
all fitted and secured in the house, and then procured a small cart, and
carried them all down bodily in it to the pond. He allowed those who
wished it a kitchen chair to shove before them; but Digby and Arthur
disdained such assistance, and preferred trusting to a stout stick and
their own legs to keep them from falling. Cousin Giles having taken
them out of the cart, arranged them in line about two yards apart.
"Now, boys, watch me," he cried out, putting himself before them.
"Stand upright, as I do, feet a little apart, ankles stiff. Don't
tremble; you won't tumble if you do properly. Just give a slight touch
with the point of the right skate and away you go on your left foot; now
touch the ice with the point of your left foot, and you slide on with
your right. Away we go. Who's that tumbled down? Oh, Benjie Bowland.
Never mind; up, Benjie; at it again. Bravo, Arthur. Bravo, Digby. You
get on better than the fellows with the chair. You'll skate in a day or
two, do the outside edge in four or live days, and the spread-eagle in a
week."
With such assistance and encouragement the boys got on rapidly, and
enjoyed their skating. Digby beat all the others by perseverance and
pluck. The moment he tumbled, he picked himself up, never minding the
bruises; while his sturdy little legs soon got the entire command of his
skates. He did not promise to make a peculiarly graceful skater, but it
was evident, from the rapid progress he made, that there were very few
things he would not be able to do.
At last, however, a heavy fall of snow came on, and completely covered
up the ice. Though men were set to work with brooms to sweep passages
across and round the pond, yet a second fall again covered them up.
This happened three or four times. A small space was still cleared
every morning, but only the most persevering skaters frequented it; and
the boys expressed a wish for some other amusement.
"I vote we build a snow-man, the largest snow-man that ever was built,"
exclaimed Cousin Giles, while all the party were assembled at breakfast.
The idea took, and was hailed with enthusiasm.
Cousin Giles went about everything he undertook systematically. He set
John Pratt to work to cut out a number of bits of board, with handles,
to serve as trowels, and he collected all the wheelbarrows and
hand-barrows, and spades, on the premises. John Pratt and three other
men were called in to assist. A sheltered place on the lawn was chosen
for the erection of the snow-giant, while a large field on one side,
through a shrubbery, would afford an amply supply of snow, when that on
the lawn was exhausted. All hands, with great glee, set to work; some
were to bring the snow up to the spot, others were to act under Cousin
Giles, as masons.
"He will be very imposing if we make him like an ancient king, seated on
his throne, with a huge staff in his hand," he observed. "We will make
him hollow, with steps in his inside, so that we may climb up, and look
out of his eyes, and halloo out of his mouth--eh, boys? Then we must
have a seat in each arm, and another in his crown, where one of you must
get up, and make a speech from. You see we have undertaken to perform a
gigantic labour; we must lose no time, therefore, though, luckily, our
material is not difficult to work."
First, Cousin Giles marked the foundation of the giant's throne; the
sides of it were five feet thick, so that a large quantity of snow was
required for that alone. The greater part of it was scraped up from the
lawn. While that was being done, Cousin Giles made a model of the
proposed giant in snow, a couple of feet high, and that very much
assisted his young workmen in their undertaking, as they at once saw the
figure he had conceived, and which they wished to produce. Everybody
labouring with a will, and systematically, the work went on rapidly, and
the chair assumed gigantic proportions. The giant's feet, which were
placed on a footstool, were four feet long, and his legs were eight feet
high up to his knees. Ladders were soon required to reach the seat of
his chair; and then his body was commenced. A young pine-tree was
procured, and that supported one of his arms, while the other rested by
his side. Some pretty severe tumbles were got from the top of the
chair, but no one was much hurt. Cousin Giles arched the greater part
of the inside, but he did not disdain to make use of some timber to
strengthen his erection.
A great deal had been done by luncheon time, when all the party
assembled, with very good appetites, in the dining-room; but Cousin
Giles begged that none of the visitors would go out to see their little
man till he was complete.
After luncheon, they all went back; but though they worked away till
dark, the giant still wanted his head and crown. It was agreed that
though they might continue labouring with lanterns, they could not
complete it before dinner. Not to lose time, however, they all joined
in bringing in snow, and piled it up near the figure, ready to begin
work the next morning.
They had a very merry evening, and all sorts of games were played.
Cousin Giles, however, disappeared earlier than usual, and they were
afraid that he was tired with his labours during the day, and had gone
to bed.
The next morning the party assembled at breakfast, and, after it was
over, and the letters had been read, and the newspapers glanced at,
Cousin Giles invited everybody to see their little man.
"But we have to finish his head," was the general exclamation from the
boys.
"Never mind," was his answer. "Head or no head, or crown or no crown, I
beg that he may be looked at."
Great coats and cloaks, and hats and bonnets, were procured, and the
party assembled. A sheet was seen thrown over the top of the figure,
and behind it was a tall pole, at the foot of which stood John Pratt.
"Here is our snow-giant, ladies and gentlemen," cried Cousin Giles.
"Though so large, he is perfectly harmless, and no one need be afraid of
approaching him."
He then made a signal to John Pratt, who, hauling away on the rope,
withdrew the sheet, and beneath it appeared not only the giant's head,
and a large pair of black eyes, and a red mouth, but a crown of gold a
foot or more high, on the top of it; while in the centre stood Kate
Heathcote, waving a flag, with Digby on one side, and Arthur Haviland on
the other.
Loud shouts from the spectators greeted them; and everybody complimented
the architect on the execution of his vast undertaking. No one present
had ever seen so huge a man. He was said to be even larger than the
idols of the Assyrian temples, represented at the Crystal Palace.
As Kate and her young companions found it somewhat cold on the top of
the giant's head, they very soon descended; and then all the boys amused
themselves by climbing up and about the monster, till they ran no small
risk of pulling him bodily down. He was, however, so scientifically and
securely built, that he withstood all the rough usage he received. The
snow-giant afforded a fund of amusement for a long time. The next
morning, his crown was gone, and a huge broad-brim hat was on his head.
Another morning, a pipe was found in his mouth actually smoking, and for
some time he continued to blow his cloud. Another day, he had a large
branch of holly in his hand, and a wreath of holly, with red berries,
round his head. Once he appeared in a high conical cap, very like a
fool's-cap, while in front hung a placard with "Won't say his lessons,"
painted on it. Indeed, there was no end of the changes the snow-giant
underwent. Then he was seen to appear with a post-bag hanging from his
arm; and, on its being opened, it was found to contain a variety of
letters to different people present, mostly the younger ones of the
party. They were from very odd correspondents. One was from the Man in
the Moon; another signed himself--Your affectionate cousin, Timothy
Tugmutton; the Antipodes. The King of the Cannibal Islands wrote two
letters; and the Polar Bear another. They were very amusing epistles;
and the writers seemed to know in a wonderful way what was going forward
in the house. The arrival of the snow-giant's post-bag was looked
forward to with even more interest than had been the changes which had
taken place in his head-dress.
Thus the early weeks of winter passed pleasantly by. Mr Nugent tried
to induce Digby to give some time in the morning to study, to prepare
himself for the new school, to which it was arranged he should go after
the Christmas holidays; but he appeared always to be in too great a
hurry and bustle to sit down quietly to his books, so as to imbibe any
information from them.
"You will be sorry for your idleness, my dear boy," said his uncle.
"Not only are you acquiring no knowledge, but you are altogether getting
out of the habit of study--out of training, I will call it. Suppose
that you were to give up running for some months, do you think that you
would be able to move your legs as fast as when you were constantly
using them? Or if you were not to employ your arms for the same length
of time, you would be very unwilling, I suspect, to climb a tree. The
mind, in the same way, requires constant and regular exercise, or it
very rapidly gets out of use, and it takes a great deal of trouble to
bring it into working condition again."
Digby listened respectfully to what his uncle said; and though the next
morning he got out his books very manfully, one of his young friends
coming in, made him put them up again, and they were not looked into
that day.
Thus the holidays glided by, and the day of his departure approached.
He liked having so many guests in the house, but they prevented him from
enjoying Kate's society as much as formerly, and he was not sorry when
all of them, with the exception of Arthur Haviland, went away.
Everybody liked Arthur. He was a great favourite with Mrs Heathcote,
as well as with the Squire and Digby's eldest sisters; and Kate thought
him a first-rate fellow; he was so very different to Julian Langley.
Digby was very sorry to part from Arthur. He, as it had been arranged,
was to go to Mr Sanford's school, in Berkshire, while Arthur returned
to one in Hampshire, of which he spoke in the highest terms, and
regretted that his friend was not to accompany him.
Digby pressed Arthur warmly to come back and spend the summer holidays.
This, however, he could not promise to do.
"My father may wish me to accompany him somewhere, and I, of course,
shall wish to go with him," said Arthur. "But I will promise not to let
a year pass, if I can help it, without our meeting."
No one ever quitted a house having more completely secured the regard of
all the family than did Arthur Haviland.
Cousin Giles, who had great discernment of character, spoke very highly
of him, and regretted much that Digby could not have been more with him.
To Digby's surprise, a day or two before he was to leave home, his
father called him into his study; not that the Squire ever did study
anything there beyond the newspaper, or a compendium of information for
justices of the peace, or some similar work.
"So, my dear boy, you are going away again from us," he began. "I wish
that you could stay with us always, and have John Pratt to look after
you, as he did when you were a little chap; but as that can't be, you
must make the best use of your time when you are away from us. What I
want to talk to you about is this--your mother and I intended that you
should spend a couple of years or so at Mr Sanford's, at Grangewood
House, and then go to some public school; however, we shall talk about
that by-and-by. I wish to see how you get on at the school to which you
are going. It will be a very different sort of life to that to which
you have hitherto led. You'll get some hard knocks and kicks, but
you'll not mind them; and you will have to fight your way upward, but
that you are well able to do; and I have little fear that you will take
good care of yourself. I am not much in the habit of giving advice, as
you know, my boy; but there is one thing I must charge you, never to
forget that you are a Christian, and a gentleman. I have done my best
to make you hate and scorn to tell a lie, and the consequence is, that I
would sooner take your word than I would the oath of any man I know.
And now I charge you to fight against every bad thought which comes into
your mind, and to scorn to do a mean or ungenerous action. Guard
especially against selfishness; nothing so quickly grows on a person by
indulgence. Fight for your undoubted rights, but gladly give up
anything which may conduce to the pleasure of others, or benefit them.
I don't mean, of course, that you are to let a bully take anything he
may fancy from you, that is quite a different matter; but never try to
get hold of what you know another person wishes for, and of which you
will thus deprive him."
Much more the Squire said to the same effect. Digby grasped his
father's hand.
"Yes, papa, I will do my best, indeed I will, to act as you tell me," he
answered. "I have done a good many things I have been sorry for, but
yet I don't think there has been anything which would make you ashamed
of calling me your son."
Such were the sentiments with which Digby went to school. His parting
was not a very melancholy one. Kate and Gusty cried, but he held up
very bravely; and when a postchaise came to the door, and his boxes were
secured, and he had manfully stepped in, and John Pratt, who was to
accompany him all the way, had taken his seat on the box, and the
postilion had cracked his whip, he was able to wave his cap out of the
window, and to sing out, in a cheerful voice--"Hurra for the Midsummer
holidays!"