"About a thousand ships are wrecked, and nearly a thousand lives are
lost on the shores of this country _every year_," was still the burden
of Mrs Foster's dreams when she was aroused by a loud knocking at the
door of her cottage, and the sound of confused voices and trampling of
many feet outside.
"Ho! goodness gracious me, ma'am," cried worthy Mrs Laker, bursting
into her mistress's apartment--"if here ain't a thousand robbers as is
come for to pillidge the ouse an' trample down the garding. It's from
the hattic winder, I see 'em with the moon, if w'ant the lightenin' a
glanshin' on their 'orrid faces as is never shaved nor washed, and it's
bin my dream from the years of unsuspectious hinfancy, as is come for to
pass now in the days of my womanhood, with dead bodies carryin' too,
w'ich is wuss. Ho! dear, wot _shall_ I do!"
"Go and put on your clothes while I open the door," said Amy Russell,
entering hastily at the moment in a state of comparative dishabille,
with a shawl thrown round her. "Dear mamma, don't be alarmed; it must
be a mistake. They cannot mean us any harm, I am certain. May I go and
open the door?"
"Open the door!" shrieked Mrs Laker in the tone of one almost paralysed
by astonishment; "open the door to a thousand robbers with swords, and
guns, and blood, and dead bodies!"
As Mrs Laker was robed in her night-gown, and stood erect, with her
arms extended and her hair dishevelled, she looked dreadfully tragic and
awful, while these fearful words flowed from her pale lips.
"Hush, Laker," said Mrs Foster, hastily throwing on her garments with
trembling hands, while she made a strong effort to restrain her
agitation, "go, dear Amy, and ask what they want; but don't open the
door."
She followed Amy to the landing outside, leaving Mrs Laker, glaring in
sceptical amazement, in the middle of the room. Presently, Amy was
heard downstairs speaking through the key-hole. A man's voice replied;
there was a suppressed scream and immediately the outer door was
unlocked, the chain removed, and the bolts withdrawn. This was followed
by the heavy tramp of men in the passage below, and a wild shriek from
Mrs Foster.
Mrs Laker, still standing with uplifted arms in the middle of the
bedroom, and livid with terror, glared round in search of a place of
refuge, and gasped horribly. Her eye fell on the bed from which her
mistress had issued. With a spring that would have done her credit in
the days of her girlhood, she plunged into it, head first, and rolled
herself tight up in the clothes, where she lay, quaking and listening
intently.
"It's only a cut on the head, and a little blood, ma'am, don't be
alarmed," said the gruff voice of Bluenose, as the footsteps ascended
the stair, and approached the bedroom.
"Cut" and "blood" were the only words in this speech which made any
impression on poor Mrs Laker, who trembled so violently that the
curtains around her shook again.
"Lay him in my bed," said Mrs Foster, in an agitated voice.
"W'y, the bed's all alive--O!" exclaimed Bluenose, in surprise.
"O Laker! what _are_ you doing there? get out, quick."
"Mercy, good men, mercy; I--"
The sentence was cut short by a wild yell, as her eye fell on the pale
and bloody face of Guy. She tumbled, clothes and all, over the side of
the bed in a dead faint, and rolled, in a confused white heap, to the
very feet of her astounded brother, Captain Bluenose.
"Well, if this don't beat Trafalgar all to sticks!" exclaimed the
Captain.
"Come, attend to Guy," said Bax, in a deep, commanding voice.
He lifted up Mrs Laker and the bed-clothes as if she had been a large
washing, and carried her down to her own apartment,--guided by Tommy
Bogey, who knew the way,--where he placed her in bed, and left her to
recover as she best might.
Bax had taken the precaution to despatch a messenger for a doctor before
they left the beach, so that Guy's hurt was soon examined, dressed, and
pronounced to be a mere trifle which rest would heal in a few days.
Indeed, Guy recovered consciousness soon after being brought into the
cottage, and told his mother with his own lips that he was "quite well."
This, and the doctor's assurances, so relieved the good lady, that she
at once transferred much of her anxious care to the others who had been
wrecked along with her son.
Lucy was placed in the hands of the sympathetic Amy Russell, and
conducted by her to her own room, where she obtained dry clothing. As
for the others, they dried themselves by the kitchen fire, which was
stirred up vigorously by the now restored and repentant Laker, who also
busied herself in spreading a repast for the shipwrecked men. Mrs
Foster did the same for a select few, whom she meant to entertain in the
parlour.
"Who is that handsome sailor," said Amy, as she assisted Lucy Burton to
dress, "the one, I mean, who came up with Guy?"
"There were four who came up with Guy," replied Lucy, smiling.
"True," said Amy, blushing (she blushed easily), "but I mean the very
tall, dark man, with the black curling hair."
"Ah! you mean the man who carried good Mrs Laker downstairs in a
bundle," said Lucy, with a merry laugh.
"Yes," cried Amy, echoing the laugh, "who is he?"
"Why, you ought to know him," said Lucy, with a look of surprise, "he
resides near you; at least he was one of the boatmen of your own coast,
before he became captain of the `Nancy'. His name is Bax."
"Bax!" echoed Amy. "Is _he_ Bax? Oh, I know Bax well by name. He is a
friend of Guy, and a celebrated man on this coast. He is sometimes
called the Stormy Petrel, because he is always sure to be found on the
beach in the wildest gales; sometimes he is called the Life Preserver,
on account of the many lives he has saved. Strange," said Amy musingly,
"that I should have pictured him to myself so like what he turns out to
be. He is my _beau-ideal_ of a hero!"
"He _is_ a hero," said Lucy, with such sudden enthusiasm that her new
friend looked up in her face in surprise. "You do not know," continued
Lucy, in some confusion, "that he saved my life not much more than
twenty-four hours ago."
Amy expressed deep interest in this matter, and begged to hear all about
it. Lucy, nothing loath, related the event circumstantially; and Amy,
gazing earnestly in her beautiful animated countenance, sighed and
regarded her with an expression of sad interest,--also with feelings
which she herself could not understand.
"But how comes it that you have never seen Bax till to-night?" inquired
Lucy, when she had finished her narrative.
"Because I have not been very long here," said Amy, "and Bax had ceased
to dwell regularly on the coast about the time I was saved, and came to
live with Mrs Foster."
"Saved!--Mrs Foster!" exclaimed Lucy.
"Yes, Mrs Foster is not my mother."
"And Guy is not your brother?" said Lucy, with a glance so quick and
earnest, that Amy felt a little confused.
"No, he is not," said she, "but he saved my life at the end of Ramsgate
pier, and ever since then I have lived with his mother."
It was now Lucy's turn to express deep interest. She begged to have the
circumstances related to her, and Amy, nothing loath, told her how Guy
had plunged into the sea when no one else observed her danger, and
caught her just as she was sinking.
As Amy told her story with animation, and spoke of Guy, with sparkling
eyes, and a rich glow on her fair cheek, Lucy gazed at her with grave
interest, and felt sensations in her breast, which were quite new to
her, and altogether incomprehensible.
Three times had Mrs Laker been sent to knock at Amy's door, and inform
the young ladies that supper awaited them, before they completed their
toilet, and descended to the drawing-room.
Laker called it supper, because she could not conscientiously give the
name of breakfast to a meal extemporised about four o'clock in the
morning!
Mr Burton and Bluenose were already seated at the table. Bax stood
near the fireplace bending down to Mrs Foster, who was looking up in
his face, shaking his hand, and thanking him, with tears in her eyes,
for having saved her son's life! Bax was much perplexed by this view of
the matter, taken and obstinately held to by the widow.
"Really, ma'am," said he, with a deprecatory smile, "you are mistaken, I
assure you. I did not save Guy's life--on the contrary, he saved mine
this night; for if he had not jumped well to wind'ard with the line and
caught hold of the old foremast, where Tommy and I were perched like two
birds--"
"Ha," interrupted Bluenose, bluntly, "you'd both's bin in Davy Jones'
locker by this time; for I seed the old stick myself, not three minits
arter, go by the board like the stem of a baccy pipe."
It was just as Bluenose concluded this speech that the young ladies
entered the room.
"Come," cried Bax, turning quickly towards Lucy, who advanced first,
"here is another witness to the fact. Do try, Miss Burton, to convince
Mrs Foster that I did not--"
Bax paused, for his glance fell at that moment on Amy Russell, whom he
had not observed in the confusion of their first appearance in the
cottage.
"My adopted daughter," said Mrs Foster, taking Amy by the hand and
leading her forward; "shake hands with Mr Bax, darling, who has saved
Guy's life to-night."
Bax held Amy's white little hand for one moment as tenderly as if he
were afraid his own iron muscles might injure it.
"I see," said he, with a smile, "that I must submit to be misrepresented
until Guy himself comes to defend me."
Amy glanced at Lucy and blushed. Lucy glanced at Amy and looked
confused; then the whole party laughed, and Bluenose said that for his
part he didn't see no savin' o' life one way or other, 'xcepting as
regarded the lifeboat, which he wos bound for to say had saved the whole
lot of 'em, and that was all about it; whereupon they all sat down to
supper, and the missionary asked a blessing; thanking God for their
recent deliverance, and praying in a few earnest words for continued
favour.
Bluenose was a man of peculiar and decided character. He did not at all
relish his position in the drawing-room when he thought of his sister
Mrs Laker supping in the kitchen. Being an impulsive man, he seized
his cap, and said abruptly to his hostess:
"I'll tell 'ee wot it is, marm, I aint used to this 'ere sort o' thing.
If you'll excudge me, marm, I'll go an' 'ave my snack with Bess i' the
kitchen. Bax, there, he's a sort o' gen'leman by natur' as well as
hedication; but as for me I'm free to say as I prefers the fo'gs'l to
the cabin--no offence meant. Come along, Tommy, and bring yer pannikin
along with 'ee, lad, you're like a fish out o' water too."
So saying, Captain Bluenose bowed to the company with what he meant to
be an affable and apologetic air, and quitted the room without waiting
for a reply.
"Ah, Bluenose," said Mrs Laker, as her brother entered, cap in hand,
and seated himself among the men of the "Nancy," who were doing full
justice to Mrs Foster's hospitality, "I thought ye wouldn't be long in
the parlour, for you aint bin used to 'igh life, an' w'y should you? as
was born of poor but respectible parients, not but that the parients of
the rich may be respectible also, I don't go for to impinge no one, sit
down, Tommy, my dear child, only think! ee's bin 'alf drownded, an' 'is
mother dead only two year next Whitsuntide; sit down, Tommy, wot'll ye
'ave?"
Tommy said he would have a bit of beef-steak pie;--got it, and set to
work immediately.
It may be as well to state here that Mrs Laker was not a married woman,
but, having reached a certain age, she deemed it advisable, in order to
maintain the dignity of her character and personal appearance (which
latter was stout and matronly) to dub herself Mrs--Laker being her
maiden name. This statement involves a further explanation, inasmuch as
it establishes the fact that Bluenose ought, in simple justice and
propriety, to have gone by the name of Laker also.
But on the beach of Deal justice and propriety in regard to names are
not necessarily held in great repute. At least they were not so a few
years ago. Smuggling, as has been said, was rather prevalent in days
gone by. Indeed, the man who was not a smuggler was an exception to the
rule, if such a man ever existed. During their night expeditions,
boatmen were often under the necessity of addressing each other in
hoarse whispers, at times and in circumstances when coast-guard ears
were uncommonly acute. Hence, in order to prevent inconvenient
recognition, the men were wont to give each other nicknames, which
nicknames descended frequently to their offspring.
The father of Captain Bluenose and of Mrs Laker had been a notorious
scamp about the beginning of this century, at which period Deal may be
said to have been in full swing in regard to smuggling and the French
war. The old smuggler was uncommonly well acquainted with the towns of
Calais, Gravelines, Dunkerque, Nieuport, and Ostende--notwithstanding
that they lay in the enemy's country. He had also enough of bad French
to enable him to carry on his business, and was addicted to French
brandy. It was the latter circumstance which turned his nose purple;
procuring for him, as well as entailing on his son, the name of
Bluenose, a name which our Captain certainly did not deserve, seeing
that his nose was fiery red in colour,--perhaps a little too fat to be
styled classic, but, on the whole, a most respectable nose.
Few of the boatmen of Deal went by their right names; but such
soubriquets as Doey, Jack Onion, Skys'lyard Dick, Mackerel, Trappy,
Rodney Nick, Sugarplum, etcetera, were common enough. Perchance they
are not obsolete at the present day!
While the crew of the "Nancy" were making merry in the kitchen, the
parlour bell rang violently, and Laker disappeared from the scene.
"You're wanted, Tommy, darling," said the worthy woman, returning
promptly.
Tommy rose and was ushered into the parlour.
"Little boy," said Mrs Foster, "my son Guy has sent a message requiring
your attendance. I tried to prevent him seeing you; but he insists on
it. Come, I will take you to his room. You must try, child, and not
encourage him to talk. It will be bad for him, I fear."
"Leave us, mother, dear," said Guy, as they entered; "I wish to be alone
with Tommy, only for ten minutes--not longer."
Mrs Foster tried to remonstrate, but an impatient gesture from her son
induced her to quit the room.
"You can write, Tommy?"
"Yes, sir. I--I hope you ain't much hurt, sir?"
"Oh no!--a mere scratch. It's only the loss of blood that weakens me.
I'll be all right in a few days. Now, sit down at that table and take a
pen. Are you ready?"
Tommy said that he was, and Guy Foster dictated the following note to
Mr Denham, of the house of Denham, Crumps, and Company:--
"Deal.
"Dear Uncle,--I'm sorry to have to inform you that the `Nancy' has
become a total wreck on the Goodwin Sands. The cargo has been entirely
lost--also two of the hands.
"I am at present disabled, from the effects of a blow on the head
received during the storm. No doubt Bax will be up immediately to give
you particulars.
"The cause of the loss of your schooner was, in _my_ opinion,
_unseaworthiness of vessel and stores_.
"Your affectionate nephew, GUY FOSTER."
"Hallo!" thought Tommy, "that's a stinger!"
"There," said Guy, as he attached his signature, "fold and address that,
and be off with it as fast as you can to the post."
Tommy vanished in an instant, and was quickly at the post-office, which
stood, at that time, near the centre of the town. He dropped the letter
in, and having thus fulfilled his mission, relapsed into that easy
swagger or roll that seems to be the natural and characteristic gait of
Jack when ashore. He had not proceeded far when the sound of voices in
dispute attracted his ear. The gale was still at its height, and the
noise occasioned by its whistling among the chimneys and whirling round
street corners was so great that the words uttered by the speakers were
not distinguishable. Still there was some peculiarity in the tone which
irresistibly attracted the boy. Perhaps Tommy was unusually curious
that night; perhaps he was smitten, like Haroun Alraschid, with a desire
for adventure; but whatever was the truth in regard to this, it is
certain that, instead of passing on, as most people would naturally have
done, Tommy approached the place whence the sounds proceeded with
cautious steps--keeping as much in the shade of the houses as possible,
although owing to the darkness of the night, this latter precaution was
unnecessary.