out, and I was not a bit surprised nor hurt when his first words were,
"Mind my toe!" and then he cries, "God bless you, Harry, my boy," and
flings his arms round me, and kisses me as if I were a child again
instead of a tall fellow of near twenty-six. And then he wiped his
eyes and said he was an old fool, and catching sight of Billy he wanted
to know who that was, and I tried to explain, but somehow the words
stuck in my throat, and I couldn't say more than "Billy." "Billy
what?" shouts my uncle. "Bobbin, sir," says Billy, and everybody
laughed, and laughed again when Billy, looking very much puzzled, said,
"Rightly, William, sir." And then James, the graver of my two cousins,
said we had better have something to eat, and so we did, my aunt having
prepared a feast of fat things fit for kings, as Billy said, and finer
by a great deal than I ever had when I was king of Palm Tree Island.
On which everybody demanded to know what he meant, and I had to begin
my story there and then, and it lasted all through supper and many
hours beyond, and even then I had not told the half of it. You may
guess how rapt an audience I had, and how they cried out against
Wabberley and Chick, and the indignation of my uncle and aunt at their
villanous doings; and my admiration of Aunt Susan was vastly increased
because she did not turn round upon her husband, as many good women
would have done, and beg him to note that she had told him so. When
they heard what a close comrade Billy had been to me during those years
of solitude and trouble they perfectly overwhelmed him with kind words
and praises, and he said to me afterwards that he knew now why my uncle
had called his ship the _Lovey Susan_, and he wished he had an Aunt
Susan himself, instead of a mother-in-law.
[Sidenote: Pleasant Places]
When I, in my turn, came to hear of what had happened during my long
absence, I found that after two years had passed my uncle began to be
very restless, and when the third was gone without bringing any news of
us, he was much perturbed, and made many visits to London to ask if we
had been spoken by any vessel, and to see the captains of outgoing
ships and beg them to make what search they could. At the end of the
fourth year he gave us up for lost, and was in such terrible distress
of mind that he fell ill, and was a long time of recovering. When he
did get about again he collected all his books about the sea, and the
voyages of navigators and discoverers, of which he had a great many,
and burnt them every one, and never in all his life looked into any
book of the sort again, but took to poetry instead. His business had
thriven amazingly, and he led me into his private room one day and
showed me a book in which he had entered, quarter by quarter, the sums
of money he had put away for me in case I should ever come back. I had
not been home a week when he drew out a deed of partnership, on such
generous terms that by the time I was thirty I was what the country
folk call a very warm man. He presented Billy immediately with fifty
pounds, and learning from him that he wished to remain with me, he said
the best thing he could do was to learn the pottery trade, which Billy
accordingly did, and he is now the manager of our factory.
We had not been at home above six months when Billy came to me one
evening, and said that he was a good deal bothered in his mind. I
asked him what was the matter, and he asked me back whether I thought
there was anything unlucky in names. When I told him that I did not
think so, and he still seemed troubled, I said he had better make a
clean breast of it, whereupon he said: "It's that little girl again,
sir." "Clums's girl?" I said. "No, sir, it's Elizabeth Jane." "You
have found her, then?" I said. "It's not _her_," says he; "it's them,"
looking very gloomy.
I told him to light his pipe (he had become a very great smoker) and to
tell me all about it. Accordingly, between puffs of his pipe, he
explained that he thought one of my aunt's maids, whose name was
Elizabeth, a very fine young woman; and he also thought the parson's
cook, whose name was Jane, a very fine young woman; but that after the
sad fate of our vessel, and the distressing discovery that the first
Elizabeth Jane's father had been hanged, he was afraid there was
something "unchancy," as he put it, about both names. Moreover, he
liked both Elizabeth and Jane so much that, even if there had been no
shadow on their names, he could not make up his mind between them: "And
I can't have 'em both," says he; "not even Harry the Eighth, by what
you said, had more'n one wife at once." I said it was a very hard
case, and after considering of it very deeply (as he thought) for a
good while, I told him that, being quite inexperienced in these
matters, I was afraid my advice would be of little worth, but he might
ask them whether they would go back with him to Palm Tree Island, and
choose the one that said yes. "I've done that, sir," says he heavily,
"and they both say they'd like it ever so, if it was me." This was a
facer, and I knew not what to say, until by a happy thought I suggested
that he should consult my aunt Susan, with whom he was a prime
favourite.
He came to me a day or two after and said it was all settled. "I spoke
to Mrs. Brent, sir," says he, "and she said 'Bless the man! What next,
I wonder!' and then she says that she had nothing to say against
Elizabeth, who does her work well, but has rather a fancy for ribbons
and laces, she says; and as for Jane, she is a very decent respectable
woman, and a good cook, and makes dough cakes the very way Mrs. Brent
told her, she says. 'She'd make any man a good wife,' she says."
"Well, you must bring Jane to see me," I said.
"Oh, but it ain't Jane; it's Elizabeth," says he, and when I had done
laughing, and asked him why he had ignored my aunt's recommendation, he
launched forth into a very rambling and confused statement of which I
could make nothing. He married Elizabeth soon after, and I do not
think my aunt ever thoroughly forgave him.
[Sidenote: One Mariner Returns]
One day, about ten years ago, I was sitting with my uncle in his
garden, chatting with him as I frequently did in the evening, because
he could not get about much, when we saw an old man, very crooked and
infirm, hobble up to the gate on two sticks, and lift the latch.
Thinking he was a beggar, my uncle bade him very sharply to be off.
For a moment he hesitated; then he opened the gate and came slowly
towards us, my uncle shaking his fist at him, and daring him to move
another step. There was something strangely familiar, and yet
unfamiliar, in his appearance; but as he still hobbled along, it came
upon me all of a sudden who he was, and I told my uncle I believed it
was Nick Wabberley. "The scoundrel! The villain!" cried my uncle.
"How dare he show his face here!" and then he added under his breath,
"I'm getting old, Harry," remembering, I suppose, that he and Wabberley
were much of an age.
Wabberley came towards us very slowly, and I saw that his hands were
shaking and his features twisted. He looked at my uncle, and then at
me, but it was plain that he did not recognize me; and then he began to
speak, and it was very pitiful to hear him, because with palsy upon him
he could not pronounce some of his words aright, and the story he told
was pitiful too. He related how he had been left with Hoggett and
Chick on the island by me and the stowaway, "who didn't ought to have
left us, men what they ought to respect," said he. Chick died; then
Hoggett fell into a melancholy and took to going off for days alone.
One day there was a dreadful eruption of the volcano, which terrified
them so much that they went down into the cavern below the hut to hide,
and when the danger was past, Hoggett refused to go up; he had lost his
wits and thought he was in his grave. Wabberley let down food to him
in a basket, but he did not touch it, and so remained until he starved
himself to death.
"I was all alone; d'ye know what that is, Stephen Brent?" says
Wabberley. How long he lived thus solitary he knew not, but he was
nearly out of his mind when one day a ship's boat came ashore for
water, and brought him home, the wreck we saw him. "You won't forget
your old schoolmate, Stephen Brent?" says he; and my uncle, who had
muttered "Dear, dear!" and "Poor fellow!" and suchlike things, while
Wabberley was speaking, now thrust his hand into his pocket, and saying
"God have mercy on us all!" gave him a handful of silver. Wabberley
touched his forelock in the old mechanical fashion, and without a
second look at me he hobbled away, and as he came to the gate, whom
should he meet but Billy, walking up to the house with his eldest son,
a boy of twelve. Billy stopped, and in his face I saw a great
amazement; but Wabberley passed him by, not knowing him again. And
then I was surprised, and touched too, to see Billy follow after the
poor old man, and take him by one arm, and make his boy take the other,
to help his tottering footsteps, and so they passed out of my sight.
[Sidenote: The End]
I have been long of telling my story; yet I might have told much more
but for the fear of wearying you. Billy sometimes says he wouldn't
have minded taking a trip to the South Seas and having a look at Old
Smoker; but if it had come to the point I think he could hardly have
torn himself away from Elizabeth and the little Bobbins. As for me,
though I have neither wife nor child, I am too busy a man, and maybe
too old, to think of entering upon what would, I fear, be a long and
troublesome search. There have been many voyages of discovery in those
parts since my time, and if Palm Tree Island is now marked on maps and
charts for the guidance of captains and navigators, I think I should
feel a trifle sorry did I see it under another name.
[1] This must have been Bougainville Island, one of the Solomon
Group.--H.S.
RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,
BREAD STREET HILL, E.C., AND
BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
HERBERT STRANG'S
BOOKS FOR BOYS
"_Mr. Strang is the legitimate successor to the late Mr. Henty. There
were many chapters of Henty's, however, which boys were prone to
'skip'; they will not be tempted to skip anything of Mr.
Strang's._"--BIRMINGHAM POST.
Humphrey Bold: His Chances and Mischances by Land and Sea
Illustrated in Colour by W. H. MARGETSON. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant,
olivine edges, 6/-. Special Presentation Edition, 7/6 net.
In this story are recounted the many adventures that befell Mr.
Humphrey Bold of Shrewsbury, from the time when, a puny slip of a boy,
he was befriended by Joe Punchard, the cooper's apprentice (who nearly
shook the life out of his tormentor, Cyrus Vetch, by rolling him down
the Wyle Cop in a barrel), to the day when, grown into a sturdy young
giant, he sailed into Plymouth Sound as first lieutenant of the
_Bristol_ frigate. The intervening chapters teem with exciting
incidents, telling of sea fights; of Humphrey's escape from a French
prison; of his voyage to the West Indies and all the perils he
encountered there.
"A most thrilling and romantic story. We can easily understand any boy
becoming so interested and fascinated as to want to read it at a
sitting."--_Schoolmaster_.
Rob the Ranger: A Story of the Fight for Canada.
Illustrated in Coiour by W. H. MARGETSON, and three Maps. Crown 8vo,
cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6/-. Special Presentation Edition, 7/6
net.
Rob Somers, son of an English settler in New York State, sets out with
Lone Pete, a trapper, in pursuit of an Indian raiding party which has
destroyed his home and carried off his younger brother. He is captured
and taken to Quebec, where he finds his brother, and escapes with him
in the dead of the winter, in company with a little band of New
Englanders. They are pursued over snow and ice, and in a log hut
beside Lake Champlain maintain a desperate struggle against a larger
force of French, Indians, and half-breeds, ultimately reaching Fort
Edward in safety.
This book is recommended by General Baden Powell first among scouting
stories for boys.
One of Clive's Heroes: A Story of the Fight for India.
Illustrated in Colour, and Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine
edges, 6/-
Desmond Burke goes out to India to seek his fortune, and is sold by a
false friend of his, one Marmaduke Diggle, to the famous Pirate of
Gheria. But he escapes, runs away with one of the Pirate's own
vessels, and meets Colonel Clive, whom he assists to capture the
Pirate's stronghold. His subsequent adventures on the other side of
India--how he saves a valuable cargo of his friend, Mr. Merriman,
assists Clive in his fights against Sirajuddaula, and rescues Mr.
Merriman's wife and daughter from the clutches of Diggle--are told with
great spirit and humour.
"An absorbing story.... The narrative not only thrills, but also
weaves skilfully out of fact and fiction a clear impression of our
fierce struggle for India."--_Athenaeum_.
Settlers and Scouts: A Story of the African Highlands.
Illustrated in Colours. Crown 8vo, cloth, olivine edges. 5/-.
An Englishman and his son emigrate to a remote part of British East
Africa, where they settle down as farmers and stock raisers. The story
tells of their difficulties through the depredations of wild beasts,
and the yet more formidable attacks of an Arab engaged in the ivory
trade. The story is a worthy successor to "Tom Burnaby," also an
African tale, by which Mr. Herbert Strang made his reputation as a
writer for boys.
Samba: A Story of the Congo.
Illustrated in Colour. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5/-.
The first work of fiction in which the cause of the hapless Congo
native is championed.
"It was an excellent idea on the part of Mr. Herbert Strang to write a
story about the treatment of the natives in the Congo Free State....
Mr. Strang has a big following among English boys, and anything he
chooses to write is sure to receive their appreciative
attention."--_Standard_.
"Mr. Herbert Strang has written not a few admirable books for boys, but
none likely to make a more profound impression than his new story of
this year."--_Scotsman_.
Barclay of the Guides: A Story of the Indian Mutiny.
Illustrated in coiour by H. W. KOEKKOEK. With Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth
elegant, olivine edges, 5/-.
Of all our Native Indian regiments the Guides have probably the most
glorious traditions. They were among the few who remained true to
their salt during the trying days of the great Mutiny, vying in
gallantry and devotion with our best British regiments. The story
tells how James Barclay, after a strange career in Afghanistan, becomes
associated with this famous regiment, and though young in years, bears
a man's part in the great march to Delhi, the capture of the royal
city, and the suppression of the Mutiny.
"One of the best boys' books of the year, and one which will find
favour everywhere."--_Journal of Education_.
With Drake on the Spanish Main
Illustrated in Colour by ARCHIBALD WEBB. With Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth
elegant, olivine edges, 5/-
A rousing story of adventure by sea and land. The hero, Dennis
Hazelrig, is cast ashore on an island in the Spanish Main, the sole
survivor of a band of adventurers from Plymouth. He lives for some
time with no companion but a spider monkey, but by a series of
remarkable incidents he gathers about him a numerous band of escaped
slaves and prisoners, English, French and native; captures a Spanish
Fort; fights a Spanish galleon; meets Francis Drake, and accompanies
him in his famous adventures on the Isthmus of Panama; and finally
reaches England the possessor of much treasure.
Jack Hardy: or, A Hundred Years Ago.
Illustrated by W. RAINEY, R.I. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 2/6.
The old smuggling days! What visions are called up by the name--of
stratagems, and caves, and secret passages, and ding-dong fights
between sturdy seamen and dashing King's officers! It is in these
brave days of old that Mr. Herbert Strang has laid the scenes of his
story "Jack Hardy." Jack is a bold young middy who, in the course of
his duty to the King, falls into all manner of difficulties and
dangers: has unpleasant experiences in a French prison, escapes by
sheer daring and ingenuity, and turns the tables on his captors in a
way that will make every British boy's heart glow.
"Herbert Strang is second to none in graphic power and vivacity ...
Here is the best of characterization in bold outline."--_Athenaeum_.
King of the Air: or, To Morocco on an Airship
Illustrated in Colour by W. E. WEBSTER. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 2/6
Lord of the Seas: A Story of a Submarine.
Illustrated in Colour by C. FLEMING WILLIAMS. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
2/6.
The present day is witnessing a simultaneous attack by scientific
investigation on the problems of aerial and submarine locomotion. In
"King of the Air" Mr. Strang gives us a romance of modern aeronautics.
In "Lord of the Seas" we have a companion volume dealing with the
marvels of submarine navigation.
"Without doubt Mr. Strang is at the top of his profession. 'The King
of the Air' is one of the best boys' books in print, and Mr. Strang has
given us an excellent companion in 'Lord of the Seas.'"--_Dundee
Advertiser_.
Swift and Sure: The Story of a Hydroplane.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra 2/6.
What the aeroplane is to the air the hydroplane promises to be to the
sea. This story, a pendant to the two preceding books, is a forecast
of what may be expected from the progress of mechanical invention.
HERBERT STRANG'S
HISTORICAL SERIES
Crown 8vo. With 4 Illustrations in Colour, 1/6 each.
WITH THE BLACK PRINCE (EDWARD III.).
CLAUD THE ARCHER (HENRY V.).
A MARINER OF ENGLAND (ELIZABETH).
ONE OF RUPERT'S HORSE (CHARLES I.).
WITH MARLBOROUGH TO MALPLAQUET (ANNE).
HENRY FROWDE AND HODDER & STOUGHTON