Charlie to the Rescue Part 15

"I see," returned Red Shirt; "and the same, exactly, may be said of the _other_ side o' the line. I very seldom--almost never--heard of so many out there; which itself may be called a coincidence, d'ee see? a sort of negative similarity."

"Young man, I would suspect you were jesting with me," returned the Captain, "but for the fact that you told me of your experiences first, before you could know that mine would coincide with them so exactly."

"Your conclusions are very just, sir," rejoined Red Shirt, with a grave and respectful air; "but of course coincidences never go on in an unbroken chain. They _must_ cease sooner or later. We left our wreck in _three_ boats. No doubt you--"

"There again!" cried the Captain in blazing astonishment, as he removed his hat and wiped his heated brow, while Mr Crossley's eyes opened to their widest extent. "_We_ left our wreck in _three_ boats! My ship's name was--"

"The _Walrus_," said Red Shirt quietly, "and her Captain's name was Stride!"

Old Crossley had reached the stage that is known as petrified with astonishment. The Captain, being unable to open his eyes wider, dropped his lower jaw instead.

"Surely," continued Red Shirt, removing his wide-awake, and looking steadily at his companions, "I must have changed very much indeed when two of my--"

"Brooke!" exclaimed Crossley, grasping one of the sailor's hands.

"Charlie!" gasped the Captain, seizing the other hand.

What they all said after reaching this point it is neither easy nor necessary to record. Perhaps it may be as well to leave it to the reader's vivid imagination. Suffice it to say, that our hero irritated the Captain no longer by his callous indifference to coincidences. In the midst of the confusion of hurried question and short reply, he pulled them up with the sudden query anxiously put--

"But now, what of my mother?"

"Well--excellently well in health, my boy," said Crossley, "but woefully low in spirits about yourself--Charlie. Yet nothing will induce her to entertain the idea that you have been drowned. Of course we have been rather glad of this--though most of our friends, Charlie, have given you up for lost long ago. May Leather, too, has been much the same way of thinking, so she has naturally been a great comfort to your mother."

"G.o.d bless her for that. She's a good little girl," said Charlie.

"Little girl," repeated both elderly gentlemen in a breath, and bursting into a laugh. "You forget, lad," said the Captain, "that three years or so makes a considerable change in girls of her age. She's a tall, handsome young woman now; ay, and a good-looking one too. Almost as good-lookin' as what my missus was about her age--an' not unlike my little Mag in the face--the one you rescued, you remember--who is also a strappin' la.s.s now."

"I'm very glad to hear they are well, Captain," said Charlie; "and, Shank, what of--"

He stopped, for the grave looks of his friends told him that something was wrong.

"Gone to the dogs," said the Captain.

"Nay, not quite gone--but going--fast."

"And the father?"

"Much as he was, Charlie, only somewhat more deeply sunk. The fact is,"

continued Crossley, "it is this very matter that takes us down to Sealford to-day. We have just had fresh news of Shank--who is in America--and I want to consult with Mrs Leather about him. You see I have agents out there who may be able to help us to save him."

"From drink, I suppose," interposed our hero.

"From himself, Charlie, and that includes drink and a great deal more.

I dare say you are aware--at least, if you are not, I now tell you--that I have long taken great interest in Mrs Leather and her family, and would go a long way, and give a great deal, to save Shank. You know-- no, of course you don't, I forgot--that he threw up his situation in my office--Withers and Company. (Ay, you may smile, my lad, but we humbugged you and got the better of you that time. Didn't we, Captain?) Well, Shank was induced by that fellow Ralph Ritson to go away to some gold-mine or other worked by his father in California, but when they reached America they got news of the failure of the Company and the death of old Ritson. Of course the poor fellows were at once thrown on their own resources, but, instead of facing life like men, they took to gambling. The usual results followed. They lost all they had and went off to Texas or some such wild place, and for a long time were no more heard of. At last, just the other day, a letter came from Ritson to Mrs Leather, telling her that her son is very ill--perhaps dying--in some out o' the way place. Ritson was nursing him, but, being ill himself, unable to work, and without means, it would help them greatly if some money could be sent--even though only a small sum."

Charlie Brooke listened to this narrative with compressed brows, and remained silent a few seconds. "My poor chum!" he exclaimed at length.

Then a flash of fire seemed to gleam in his blue eyes as he added, "If I had that fellow Ritson by the--"

He stopped abruptly, and the fire in the eyes died out, for it was no part of our hero's character to boast--much less to speak harshly of men behind their backs.

"Has money been sent?" he asked.

"Not yet. It is about that business that I'm going to call on poor Mrs Leather now. We must be careful, you see. I have no reason, it is true, to believe that Ritson is deceiving us, but when a youth of no principle writes to make a sudden demand for money, it behoves people to think twice before they send it."

"Ay, to think three times--perhaps even four or five," broke in the Captain, with stern emphasis. "I know Ralph Ritson well, the scoundrel, an' if I had aught to do wi' it I'd not send him a penny. As I said to my--"

"Does your mother know of your arrival?" asked Mr Crossley abruptly.

"No; I meant to take her by surprise."

"Humph! Just like you young fellows. In some things you have no more brains than geese. Being made of cast-iron and shoe-leather you a.s.sume that everybody else is, or ought to be, made of the same raw material.

Don't you know that surprises of this sort are apt to kill delicate people?"

Charlie smiled by way of reply.

"No, sir," continued the old gentleman firmly, "I won't let you take her by surprise. While I go round to the Leathers my good friend Captain Stride will go in advance of you to Mrs Brooke's and break the news to her. He is accustomed to deal with ladies."

"Right you are, sir," said the gratified Captain, removing his hat and wiping his brow. "As I said, no later than yesterday to--"

A terrific shriek from the steam-whistle, and a plunge into the darkness of a tunnel stopped--and thus lost to the world for ever--what the Captain said upon that occasion.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

TELLS OF HAPPY MEETINGS AND SERIOUS CONSULTATIONS.

Whether Captain Stride executed his commission well or not we cannot tell, and whether the meeting of Mrs Brooke with her long-lost son came to near killing or not we will not tell. Enough to know that they met, and that the Captain--with that delicacy of feeling so noticeable in seafaring men--went outside the cottage door and smoked his pipe while the meeting was in progress. After having given sufficient time, as he said, "for the first o' the squall to blow over," he summarily snubbed his pipe, put it into his vest pocket, and re-entered.

"Now, missus, you'll excuse me, ma'am, for cuttin' in atween you, but this business o' the Leathers is pressin', an' if we are to hold a confabulation wi' the family about it, why--"

"Ah, to be sure, Captain Stride is right," said Mrs Brooke, turning to her stalwart son, who was seated on the sofa beside her. "This is a very, _very_ sad business about poor Shank. You had better go to them, Charlie. I will follow you in a short time."

"Mr Crossley is with them at this moment. I forgot to say so, mother."

"Is he? I'm _very_ glad of that," returned the widow. "He has been a true friend to us all. Go, Charlie. But stay. I see May coming. The dear child always comes to me when there is anything good or sorrowful to tell. But she comes from the wrong direction. Perhaps she does not yet know of Mr Crossley's arrival."

"May! Can it be?" exclaimed Charlie in an undertone of surprise as he observed, through the window, the girl who approached.

And well might he be surprised, for this, although the same May, was very different from the girl he left behind him. The angles of girlhood had given place to the rounded lines of young womanhood. The rich curly brown hair, which used to whirl wildly in the sea-breezes, was gathered up in a luxuriant ma.s.s behind her graceful head, and from the forehead it was drawn back in two wavy bands, in defiance of fashion, which at that time was beginning to introduce the detestable modern fringe.

Perhaps we are not quite un-bia.s.sed in our judgment of the said fringe, far it is intimately a.s.sociated in our mind with the savages of North America, whose dirty red faces, in years past, were wont to glower at us from beneath just such a fringe, long before it was adopted by the fair dames of England!

In other respects, however, May was little changed, except that the slightest curl of sadness about her eyebrows made her face more attractive than ever, as she nodded pleasantly to the Captain, who had hastened to the door to meet her.

"So glad to see you, Captain Stride," she said, shaking hands with unfeminine heartiness. "Have you been to see mother? I have just been having a walk before--"

She stopped as if transfixed, for at that moment she caught sight of Charlie and his mother through the open door.