As he passed through the outer office he was arrested by one of the
clerks laying a hand on his shoulder.
"Well, Mr Foster," said Bax, a bright smile chasing the frown from his
face, "it seems we're to swim if we can, or sink if we can't this
winter;--but what want ye with me?"
"You are to call me Guy, not _Mister_ Foster," said the lad, gaily. "I
want to know where you are to be found after six this evening."
"At the `Three Jolly Tars,'" answered Bax, clapping on his glazed hat.
"All right, I'll look you up. Good-day."
"Guy Foster," shouted Mr Denham from the inner room.
"Yes, uncle," and in another moment the youth was standing, pen in hand,
in the august presence of his relative, who regarded him with a cold
stare of displeasure.
There could scarcely have been conceived a stronger contrast in nature
than that which existed between the starched, proud, and portly uncle,
and the tall, handsome, and hearty young nephew, whose age was scarcely
twenty years.
"How often am I to tell you, sir," said Mr Denham, "that `yes, uncle,'
is much too familiar and unbusinesslike a phrase to be used in this
office in the hearing of your fellow-clerks?"
"I beg pardon, uncle, I'm sure I had no intention of--"
"There, that will do, I want no apology, I want obedience and attention
to my expressed wishes. I suppose that you expect to get away for a few
days' holiday?"
"Well, unc--, sir, I mean, if it is quite convenient I should--"
"It is _not_ quite convenient," interrupted the uncle. "It cannot
possibly, at any time, be convenient to dispense with the services of a
clerk in a house where no supernumeraries are kept to talk slang and
read the newspapers. I see no reason whatever in young men in ordinary
health expecting as a right, two or three weeks' leave each year without
deduction of salary. _I_ never go to the country or to the sea-side
from one year's end to the other."
"You'd be much the better for it if you did, uncle," interposed Guy.
"That, _sir_," retorted Denham with emphasis, "is _your_ opinion, and
you will allow me to say that it is erroneous, as most of your opinions,
I am sorry to find, are. _I_ find that no change is necessary for my
health. I am in better condition than many who go to Margate every
summer. I thrive on town air, sir, and on city life."
There was much truth in these observations. The worthy merchant did
indeed seem to enjoy robust health, and there could be no question that,
as far as physical appearances went, he did thrive on high living, foul
air, and coining money. Tallow and tar sent forth delicious odours to
him, and thick smoke was pleasant to his nostrils, for he dealt largely
in coal, and all of these, with many kindred substances, were productive
of the one great end and object of his life--gold.
"However," pursued Mr Denham, leaning back on the mantle-piece, "as the
tyrannical customs of society cannot be altogether set at nought, I
suppose I must let you go."
"Thank you, unc--sir," said Guy, who, having been chained to the desk in
the office of Redwharf Lane for the last eleven months, felt his young
heart bounding wildly within him at the prospect of visiting, even for a
brief period, his mother's cottage on the coast of Kent.
"You have no occasion to thank _me_," retorted Mr Denham; "you are
indebted entirely to the tyrannical customs and expectations of society
for the permission. Good-bye, you may convey my respects to your
mother."
"I will, sir."
"Have you anything further to say?" asked Mr Denham, observing that the
youth stood looking perplexedly at the ground, and twirling his
watch-key.
"Yes, uncle, I have," answered Guy, plucking up courage. "The fact is--
that, is to say--you know that wrecks are very common off the coast of
Kent."
"Certainly, I do," said Denham with a frown. "I have bitter cause to
know that. The loss occasioned by the wreck of the `Sea-gull' last
winter was very severe indeed. The subject is not a pleasant one; have
you any good reason for alluding to it?"
"I have, uncle; as you say, the loss of the `Sea-gull' was severe, for,
besides the loss of a fine vessel and a rich cargo, there was the
infinitely more terrible loss of the lives of twenty-two human beings."
As Mr Denham had not happened to think of the loss of life that
occurred on the occasion, and had referred solely to the loss of ship
and cargo, which, by a flagrant oversight on the part of one of his
clerks, had not been insured; he made no rejoinder, and Guy, after a
moment's pause, went on--
"The effect of this calamity was so powerful on the minds of the people
of Deal and Walmer, near which the wreck took place, that a public
meeting was called, and a proposal made that a lifeboat should be
established there."
"Well?" said Mr Denham.
"Well," continued the youth, "my mother gave a subscription; but being
poor she could not give much."
"Well, well," said Mr Denham impatiently.
"And--and _I_ gave a little, a very little, towards it too," said Guy.
"Your salary is not large; it was very foolish of you to waste your
money in this way."
"Waste it, uncle!"
"Come, sir, what does all this tend to?" said Denham, sternly.
"I thought--I hoped--indeed I felt assured," said Guy earnestly, "that
_you_ would give something towards this good object--"
"Oh, did you?" said the merchant, cutting him short; "then, sir, allow
me to say that you were never more mistaken in your life. I never give
money in charity. I believe it to be a false principle, which tends to
the increase of beggars and criminals. You can go now."
"But consider, uncle," entreated Guy, "this is no ordinary charity. A
lifeboat there might be the means of saving hundreds of lives; and oh!
if you could have seen, as I did, the despairing faces of these poor
people as they clung to the rigging scarcely a stone's-cast from the
shore, on which the waves beat so furiously that no boat except a
lifeboat could have lived for a moment; if you could have heard, as I
did, the wild shriek of despair as the masts went by the board, and
plunged every living soul into the raging sea, I am certain that you
would gladly give a hundred pounds or more towards this philanthropic
object."
"Nephew," said Denham, "I will not give a sixpence. Your inexperience
and enthusiasm lead you astray, sir, in this matter. Lifeboats are
capable of being upset as well as ordinary boats, and there are cases on
record in which the crews of them have been drowned as well as the
people whom they recklessly went out to save. My opinion is, that
persons who devote themselves to a sea-faring life must make up their
minds to the chances and risks attending such a life. Now you have my
answer--good-bye, and give my best regards to your sister. I will
expect you back next Saturday week."
"I have still another favour to ask, sir," said Guy, after some
hesitation.
"Has it anything to do with what you are pleased to term a philanthropic
object?"
"It has."
"Then," said Mr Denham, "save me the trouble of refusing, and yourself
the pain of a refusal, by holding your tongue,--and retiring."
Guy coloured, and was about to turn away in disgust, but, repressing his
indignation by a powerful effort, he advanced with a cheerful
countenance, and held out his hand.
"Well, good-bye, uncle. If ever you go to the coast, and happen to see
a storm and a shipwreck, you'll change your mind, I think, in regard to
this matter."
Mr Denham did go to the coast, and, did see a storm and a shipwreck,
but whether this prediction ever came true is a point that shall not be
revealed at this part of our narrative.