Ishmael; Or, In the Depths Part 58

They pa.s.sed up the circular drive leading to the front of the house, paused a few minutes to gaze upon the ruins of the burnt wing, of which nothing was now left but a sh.e.l.l of brick walls and a cellar of smoking cinders, and then they entered the house by the servant's door.

"Mr. Middleton and the Commodore are in the library, and you are to take the boy in there," said Grainger, who was superintending the clearing away of the ruins.

"Come along, young Ishmael!" said the professor, and as he knew the way of the house quite as well as the oldest servant in it, he pa.s.sed straight on to the door of the library and knocked.

"Come in," said the voice of Mr. Middleton.

And the professor, followed by Ishmael, entered the library.

It was a handsome room, with the walls lined with book-cases; the windows draped with crimson curtains; the floor covered with a rich carpet; a cheerful fire burning in the grate; and a marble-top table in the center of the room, at which was placed two crimson velvet arm-chairs occupied by two gentlemen--namely, Mr. Middleton and Commodore Burghe. The latter was a fine, tall, stout jolly old sailor, with a very round waist, a very red face, and a very white head, who, as soon as ever he saw Ishmael enter, got up and held out his broad hand, saying:

"This is the boy, is it? Come here, my brave little lad, and let us take a look at you!"

Ishmael took off his hat, advanced and stood before the commodore.

"A delicate little slip of a fellow to show such spirit!" said the old sailor, laying his hand on the flaxen hair of the boy and pa.s.sing his eyes down from Ishmael's broad forehead and thin cheeks to his slender figure. "Never do for the army or navy, sir! be rejected by both upon account of physical incapacity, sir. Eh?" he continued, appealing to Mr.

Middleton.

"The boy is certainly very delicate at present; but that may be the fault of his manner of living; under better regimen he may outgrow his fragility," said Mr. Middleton.

"Yes, yes, so he may; but now as I look at him, I wonder where the deuce the little fellow got his pluck from! Where did you, my little man, eh?"

inquired the old sailor, turning bluffly to Ishmael.

"Indeed I don't know, sir; unless it was from George Washington and--" Ishmael was going on to enumerate his model heroes, but the commodore, who had not stopped to hear the reply, turned to Mr.

Middleton again and said:

"One is accustomed to a.s.sociate great courage with great size, weight, strength, and so forth!" And he drew up his own magnificent form with conscious pride.

"Indeed, I do not know why we should, then, when all nature and all history contradicts the notion! Nature shows us that the lion is braver than the elephant, and history informs us that all the great generals of the world have been little men--"

"And experience teaches us that schoolmasters are pedants!" said the old man, half vexed, half laughing; "but that is not the question. The question is how are we to reward this brave little fellow?"

"If you please, sir, I do not want any reward," said Ishmael modestly.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes; I know all about that! Your friend, Mr. Middleton, has just been telling me some of your antecedents--how you fought my two young scapegraces in defense of his fruit baskets. Wish you had been strong enough to have given hem a good thrashing. And about your finding the pocketbook, forbearing to borrow a dollar from it, though sorely tempted by want. And then about your refusing any reward for being simply honest. You see I know all about you. So I am not going to offer you money for risking your life to save my boys. But I am going to give you a start in the world, if I can. Come, now, how shall I do it?"

Ishmael hesitated, looked down and blushed.

"Would you like to go to sea and be a sailor, eh?"

"No, sir, thank you."

"Like to go for a soldier, eh? You might be a drummerboy, you know."

"No, thank you, sir."

"Neither sailor nor soldier; that's queer, too! I thought all lads longed to be one or the other! Why don't you, eh?"

"I would not like to leave my Aunt Hannah, sir; she has no one but me."

"What the deuce would you like, then?" testily demanded the old sailor.

"If you please, sir, nothing; do not trouble yourself."

"But you saved the life of my boys, you proud little rascal and do you suppose I am going to let that pa.s.s unrepaid?"

"Sir, I am glad the young gentlemen are safe; that is enough for me."

"But I'll be shot if it is enough for me!"

"Commodore Burghe, sir, will you allow me to suggest something?" said the professor, coming forward, hat in hand.

"And who the deuce are you? Oh, I see! the artist-in-general to the country side! Well, what do you suggest?" laughed the old man.

"If I might be so bold, sir, it would be to send young Ishmael to school."

"Send him to school! Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! why, he'd like that least of anything else! why, he'd consider that the most ungrateful of all returns to make for his services! Boys are sent to school for punishment, not for reward!" laughed the commodore.

"Young Ishmael wouldn't think it a punishment, sir," mildly suggested the professor.

"I tell you he wouldn't go, my friend! punishment or no punishment!

Why, I can scarcely make my own fellows go! Bosh! I know boys; school is their bugbear."

"But, under correction, sir, permit me to say I don't think you know young Ishmael."

"I know he is a boy; that is enough!"

"But, sir, he is rather an uncommon boy."

"In that case he has an uncommon aversion to school."

"Sir, put it to him, whether he would like to go to school."

"What's the use, when I know he'd rather be hung?"

"But, pray, give him the choice, sir," respectfully persisted the professor.

"What a solemn, impertinent jackanapes you are, to be sure, Morris! But I will 'put it to him,' as you call it! Here, you young fire-eater, come here to me."

The boy, who had modestly withdrawn into the background, now came forward.

"Stand up before me; hold up your Head; look me in the face! Now, then, answer me truly, and don't be afraid. Would you like to go to school, eh?"

Ishmael did not speak, but the moonlight radiance of his pale beaming face answered for him.

"Have you no tongue, eh?" bluffly demanded the old sailor.

"If you please, sir, I should like to go to school more than anything in the world, if I was rich enough to pay for it."