Ned Garth Part 3

Mary knocked at the door, which was tightly closed.

"Who's there?" asked a tremulous voice.

"It is I, Mary Pack; I've brought you something from aunt which she thought you would like to have."

The bars were withdrawn.

"Come in!" said the same voice, and the door was cautiously opened.

Mary, without hesitation, entered in time to see a thin old man, in a tattered threadbare great-coat, with a red woollen cap on his head, and slippered feet, his stockings hanging about his ankles, totter back to an arm-chair from which he had risen, by the side of a small wood fire on which a pot was boiling.

"That's all I've got for my dinner, with a few potatoes, but it's enough to keep body and soul together, and what more does a wretched being like me want?" he said in a querulous voice.

"I have brought you something nice, as aunt knows you can't cook anything of the sort yourself, and you may eat it with more appet.i.te than you can the potatoes," said Mary, placing the contents of the basket in some cracked plates on a rickety three-legged table which stood near the old man's chair.

He eagerly eyed the tempting-looking pudding, a nicely cooked chop, and a delicious jelly. "Yes, that's more like what I once used to have," he muttered. "Thank you, thank you, little girl. I cannot buy such things for myself, but I am glad to get them from others. Sit down, pray do, after your walk," and he pointed to a high-backed oak chair, of very doubtful stability and covered with dust. He saw that Mary on that account hesitated to sit down, so rising he shambled forward and wiped it with an old cotton handkerchief which he drew out of his pocket.

"There, now it's all clean and nice; you must sit down and rest, and see me eat the food, so that you may tell your aunt I sold none of it. The people say that I have parted with my coat off my back and the shoes from my feet, but do not believe them; if I did, it was on account of my poverty."

Mary made no reply; it appeared to her that the old man was contradicting himself, and she did not wish to inquire too minutely into the matter.

"This pudding must have cost a great deal," he continued, as he ate it mouthful by mouthful; "there's the flour, the milk, the raisins, and the sugar and spice, and other ingredients. Your aunt must be a rich woman to afford so dainty a dish for a poor man like me?"

"No, I do not think Aunt Sally is at all rich, but she saves what little she can to give to the sick and needy; she heard that you were ill, Mr Shank, and had no one to care for you."

"That's true, little girl, no one cares for the old miser, as they call me; and the boys, when I go into the village, throw stones at me, and jeer and shout at my heels. I hate boys!"

"I'm sure Ned would not do that," said Mary; "he is always kind and gentle, and would beat off bad boys if he saw them treating you in that way."

"No, he wouldn't, he would join them, and behave like the rest. They are all alike, boys! Mischievous little imps!"

Mary felt very indignant at hearing Ned thus designated, but she repressed her rising anger, pitying the forlorn old man, and smiling, said, "You will find you are mistaken in regard to Ned, Mr Shank; he is outside, and I must not keep him waiting longer. But I was nearly forgetting that I have a book to give you, which Aunt Sally thought you would like to read. It is in large print, so that you need not try your eyes."

Mary, as she spoke, produced a thin book from her basket, and presented it to the old man. He glanced at it with indifference.

"I do not care about this sort of thing," he said. "I wonder people spend money in having such productions printed. A loss of time to print them, and a loss of time to read them!"

"Aunt Sally will be much disappointed if you do not keep the book," said Mary, quietly; "you might like to read it when you are all alone and have nothing else to do."

"Well, well, as she has sent me the pudding, I'll keep the book; she means kindly, I dare say, and I do not wish to make you carry it back.

What! must you go, little girl? You'll come and see me again some day, and bring another nice pudding, won't you?" said the old man, looking at Mary with a more amiable expression in his eyes than they generally wore.

"Yes, I must go, I cannot, indeed, keep Ned waiting longer. Good-bye, Mr Shank; you'll read the book, and I'll tell Aunt Sally what you say,"

said Mary, taking up her basket and tripping out of the room.

"Don't let that boy Ned you spoke of throw stones in at my window. You see how others have broken the panes, and it would cost too much money to have them repaired."

He said this as he followed Mary with a shuffling step to the door.

"Ned would never dream of doing anything of the sort," she answered, now feeling greatly hurt at the remark.

"They're all alike, they're all alike," muttered the old man; "but you, I dare say, can keep him in order. I didn't mean to offend you, little girl," he added, observing Mary's grave look, as she turned round to wish him good-bye before going through the doorway.

The remark pacified her. "Poor old man!" she thought, "sickness makes him testy."

"Good-bye, little girl," said Mr Shank, as he stood with his hand on the door-latch; "you'll come again soon?"

"If Aunt Sally sends me; but you must promise not to accuse Ned wrongfully. Good-bye!" answered Mary, as she stepped over the threshold, the old man immediately closing and bolting the door.

Ned, who had been on the watch at a little distance, sprang forward to meet her. She did not tell him what old Mr Shank had said, as she naturally thought that it would make him indignant; and like a wise girl she confined herself merely to saying how glad he seemed to be to get the food, and how pool and wretched he looked.

Mary and Ned had a pleasant walk home. After this she paid several visits to old Mr Shank, sometimes with Aunt Sally, at others with the lieutenant and Ned, but she always carried the basket and presented the contents to the old man. Aunt Sally would not believe that he was really a miser, although the people called him one. The cottage was his own, and he obtained periodically a few shillings at the bank, but this was all he was known to possess, and the amount was insufficient to supply him with the bare necessaries of life. He picked up sticks and bits of coal which fell from carts for firing. He possessed a few goats, which lived at free quarters on the downs, and their winter food cost but little. He sold the kids and part of the milk which he did not consume. He seemed grateful to Mary, and talked to her more than to any one else; but to Aunt Sally and the lieutenant he rarely uttered a word beyond a cold expression of thanks for the gifts they bestowed upon him.

Ned in the meantime was waiting anxiously for an answer to the letter his uncle had written Messrs. Clew, Earring and Grummet, the shipowners.

After some delay a reply was received from a clerk, stating that Mr Clew was dead, and that the other partners were unable to comply with the lieutenant's request unless a considerable premium was paid, which was utterly beyond his means.

This was a great disappointment to Ned.

"Don't fret over it, my boy," said his uncle, "we shall all find many things to bear up against through life. There's a good time coming for all of us, if we'll only wait patiently for it. I ought to have been an admiral, and so I might if my leg hadn't been knocked away by a Turkish round shot at Navarin; but you see, notwithstanding, I am as happy as a prince. As far as I myself am concerned I have no reasonable want unsupplied, though I should like to have your very natural wish complied with."

Still week after week went by; the lieutenant wrote several other letters, but the answers were unsatisfactory. At last he began to talk of going up himself to town to call on the Admiralty, and to beard the lions in their den; but it was an undertaking the thoughts of which he dreaded far more than had he been ordered to head a boarding party against an enemy's ship. He talked the matter over with his sister Sally.

"If we want a thing we must go for it, if we don't want it we may stay at home and not get it," he observed. "If I felt anything like sure that I should succeed by pressing my claim, I'd go ten times as far; but my belief is, that I shall be sent back with a flea in my ear."

"Still, what can poor Ned do if he doesn't go to sea, though I wish that we could have found him some employment on sh.o.r.e suited to his taste,"

said Miss Sarah.

"Well, I'll make up my mind about the matter," said the lieutenant, who was as anxious as his sister to forward Ned's wishes. "I can but ask, you know, and if I am refused, I shall have good reason for grumbling for the next year to come, or to the end of my days. I'll go and talk the subject over with Hanson; he knows more about the ways of the Admiralty than I do, and will give me a wrinkle or two. In the meantime do you get my old uniform brushed up and my traps ready."

Next morning the old lieutenant, summoning Ned, set off to pay a visit to his brother officer. Ned was in high spirits at hearing that steps were actually being taken to promote his object, and he expressed his grat.i.tude to his uncle for the effort he was about to make on his behalf. All difficulties seemed to vanish, and he already saw himself a midshipman on board a fine ship sailing down channel.

Lieutenant Hanson was not very sanguine when he heard of his friend's intention.

"There is nothing like asking, however, and they can't eat you, though you may be refused," he answered. "Go by all means; get to the Admiralty early, step boldly in, and show that you fully expect to have your request granted. Say that the boy will soon be over age, and consequently there is no time to be lost." [See Note 1.]

Although the old lieutenant had not received much encouragement from Mr Hanson, yet some of the difficulties he had apprehended appeared to clear away, and he walked home with Ned, resolved to carry out his project. The cost of his expedition was now his chief anxiety. He pictured to himself the risk of running short of funds in the great metropolis, and being unable to pay his journey back. Then Sally would be hard put to it for many a long month.

"His small income, poor lad, won't go far to defray his outfit and allowance," he said to himself as he walked along. "Still it must be done, and we'll find the ways and means. If the worst comes to the worst, I'll go to sea, and take Ned with me. I wonder I never thought of that before. It will make some amends to him for not entering the navy; he'd soon become a prime seaman under my charge, and in a few years get the command of a ship."

Such were some of the thoughts which pa.s.sed through the worthy officer's mind, but he did not express them aloud.

While pointing his telescope seaward, an employment in which he seldom failed to spend a part of the day, he caught sight of a cutter standing for the bay.

As the tide had just turned, and the wind was falling, it was evident that she was about to bring up. In a short time her commander, Lieutenant Jenkins, came on sh.o.r.e, and proved to be an old messmate of Mr Pack. On hearing of his intention of going to London, Lieutenant Jenkins at once offered him a pa.s.sage as far as Portsmouth. The invitation was gladly accepted, as a considerable expense would thus be saved. Miss Sally having packed her brother's traps, he, late in the evening, went on board the cutter, which, just as darkness set in, sailed for the westward.

Note 1. At the period we are speaking of, the rule had not been formed which makes it necessary for boys to undergo a training on board the "Britannia" before they can become midshipmen. The Admiralty either appointed them to ships, or captains had the privilege of taking certain number selected by themselves.