Under the Waves: Diving in Deep Waters Part 37

"Now," said Mr Hazlit, sitting down on a broken chair in a very shabby little room, and wiping his heated brow, "what is the meaning of all this, Mr Timms?"

"Well, sir," answered Timms, with a deprecatory air, "I'm sorry, sir, it should 'ave 'appened just w'en you was a-goin' to favour me with the unexpected honour of a wisit; but the truth is, sir, I couldn't 'elp it.

This 'ere sc--man is my landlord, sir, an' 'e _wouldn't_ wait another day for 'is rent, sir, though I told 'im he was pretty sure o' 'avin it in a week or so, w'en I 'ad time to c'lect my outstandin' little bills--"

"More nor that, sur," burst in the impatient and indignant Rooney, "he would 'ave gone into that there room, sur,--if I may miscall a dark closet by that name--an' 'ave pulled the bed out from under Mrs Timms, who's a-dyin', sur, if I 'adn't chanced to come in, sur, an' kick the spalpeen into the street, as you see'd."

"For w'ich you'll smart yet," growled the landlord, who stood in a dishevelled heap like a bad boy in a corner.

"How much rent does he owe you?" asked Mr Hazlit of the landlord.

"That's no business o' yours," replied the man, sulkily.

"If I were to offer to pay it, perhaps you'd allow that it _was_ my business."

"So I will _w'en_ you offers."

"Well, then, I offer now," said Mr Hazlit, taking out his purse, and pouring a little stream of sovereigns into his hand. "Have you the receipt made out?"

The landlord made no reply, but, with a look of wonder at his interrogator, drew a small piece of dirty paper from his pocket and held it out. Mr Hazlit examined it carefully from beginning to end.

"Is this right, Mr Timms?" he asked.

The green-grocer examined the paper, and said it was--that five pounds was the exact amount.

"You can put the receipt in your pocket," said Mr Hazlit, turning round and counting out five sovereigns on the table, which he pushed towards the landlord. "Now, take yourself off, as quietly as you can, else I'll have you taken up and tried for entering a man's premises forcibly, and endeavouring to obtain money by intimidation. Go!"

This was a bold stroke on the part of the merchant, whose legal knowledge was not extensive, but it succeeded. The landlord pocketed the money and moved towards the door. Rooney Machowl followed him.

"Rooney!" said Mr Hazlit, calling him back.

"Mayn't I show him out, sur?" said Rooney, earnestly.

"By no means."

"Ah, sur, mayn't I give him a farewell kick?"

"Certainly not."

Mr Hazlit then expressed a desire to see Mrs Timms, and the green-grocer, thanking the merchant fervently for his timely aid, lighted a candle and led the way into the dark closet.

Poor Mrs Timms, a delicate-looking woman, not yet forty, who had evidently been pretty once, lay on a miserable bed, apparently at the point of death.

Aileen glided quickly to the bed, sat down on it, and took the woman's hand, while she bent over her and whispered:--

"Don't be distressed. The rent is paid. He will disturb you no more.

You shall be quiet now, and I will come to see you sometimes, if you'll let me."

The woman gazed at the girl with surprise, then, as she felt the gentle warm pressure of her hand a sudden rush of faith seemed to fill her soul. She drew Aileen towards her, and looked earnestly into her face.

"Come here, Timms," said Mr Hazlit, abruptly, as he turned round and walked out of the closet, "I want to speak to you. I am no doctor, but depend upon it your wife will _not_ die. There is a very small building--quite a hut I may say--near my house--ahem! Near my cottage close to the sea, which is at present to let. I advise you strongly to take that hut and start a green-grocery there. I'm not aware that there is one in the immediate neighbourhood, and there are many respectable families about whose custom you might doubtless count on; at all events, you would be sure of ours to begin with. The sea-air would do your wife a world of good, and the sea-beach would be an agreeable and extensive playground for your children."

The green-grocer stood almost aghast! The energy with which Mr Hazlit poured out his words, and, as it seemed to Timms, the free and easy magnificence of his ideas were overpowering.

"W'y, sir, I ain't got no money to do sitch a thing with," he said at last, with a broad grin.

"Yes, you have," said Mr Hazlit, again pulling out his purse and emptying its golden contents on the table in a little heap, from which he counted fifteen sovereigns. "My debt to you amounts, I believe, to twenty pounds; five I have just paid to your landlord, here is the balance. You needn't mind a receipt. Send me the discharged account at your leisure, and think over what I have suggested. Aileen, my dear, we will go now."

Aileen said good-night at once to the sick woman and followed her father as he went out, repeating--"Good-evening, Timms, think over my suggestion."

They walked slowly home without speaking. Soon they reached the cottage by the sea. As they stood under the trellis-work porch the merchant turned round and gazed at the sun, which was just dipping into the horizon, flooding sea and sky with golden glory.

"Aileen," he said in a low voice, "I have commenced life at last--life in earnest. I was a poor fool once. Through grace I am a rich man now."

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

SHOWS HOW OUR HERO FORMED PLANS, HOW MISS PRITTY FORMED PLOTS, AND HOW THE SMALL DOMESTIC AMUSED HERSELF.

On a certain cold, raw, bleak, biting, bitter day in November, our hero found himself comfortably situated at the bottom of the sea.

We say `comfortably' advisedly and comparatively, for, as compared with the men whose duty it was to send air down to him, Edgar Berrington was in a state of decided comfort. Above water nought was to be seen but a bleak, rocky, forbidding coast, a grey sky with sleet driving across it, and an angry indigo sea covered with white wavelets. Nothing was to be felt but a stiff cutting breeze, icy particles in the air, and cold blood in the veins. Below water all was calm and placid; groves of sea-weed delighted the eye; patches of yellow sand invited to a siesta; the curiously-twisted and smashed-up remains of a wreck formed a subject of interesting contemplation, while a few wandering crabs, and an erratic lobster or two, gave life and variety to the scene, while the temperature, if not warm, was at all events considerably milder than that overhead. In short, strange though it may seem, Edgar was in rather an enviable position than otherwise, on that bleak November day.

Some two years or so previous to the day to which we refer, Edgar, with his diving friends, had returned to England. Mr Hazlit had preceded them by a month. But Edgar did not seek him out. He had set a purpose before him, and meant to stick to it. He had made up his mind not to go near Aileen again until he had made for himself a position, and secured a steady income which would enable him to offer her a home at least equal to that in which she now dwelt.

Mr Hazlit rather wondered that the young engineer never made his appearance at the cottage by the sea, but, coming to the conclusion that his pa.s.sion had cooled, he consoled himself with the thought that, after all, he was nearly penniless, and that it was perhaps as well that he had sheered off.

Aileen also wondered, but _she_ did not for a moment believe that his love had cooled, being well aware that that was an impossibility. Still she was perplexed, for although the terms on which they stood to each other did not allow of correspondence, she thought, sometimes, that he _might_ have written to her father--if only to ask how they were after their adventures in the China seas.

Miss Pritty--to whom Aileen confided her troubles--came nearer the mark than either of them. She conceived, and stoutly maintained, that Edgar had gone abroad to seek his fortune, and meant to return and marry Aileen when he had made it.

Edgar, however, had not gone abroad. He had struck out a line of life for himself, and had prosecuted it during these two years with untiring energy. He had devoted himself to submarine engineering, and, having an independent spirit, he carved his way very much as a freelance. At first he devoted himself to studying the subject, and ere long there was not a method of raising a sunken vessel, of building a difficult breakwater, of repairing a complicated damage to a pier, or a well, or anything else subaqueous, with which he was not thoroughly acquainted, and in regard to which he had not suggested or carried out bold and novel plans and improvements, both in regard to the machinery employed and the modes of action pursued.

After a time he became noted for his success in undertaking difficult works, and at last employed a staff of divers to do the work, while he chiefly superintended. Joe Baldwin became his right-hand man and constant attendant. Rooney and Maxwell, preferring steadier and less adventurous work, got permanent employment on the harbour improvements of their own seaport town.

Thus engaged, Edgar and his man Joe visited nearly all the wild places round the stormy sh.o.r.es of Great Britain and Ireland. They raised many ships from the bottom of the sea that had been p.r.o.nounced by other engineers to be hopelessly lost. They laid foundations of piers and breakwaters in places where old Ocean had strewn wrecks since the foundation of the world. They cleared pa.s.sages by blasting and levelling rocks whose stern crests had bid defiance to winds and waves for ages, and they recovered cargoes that had been given up for years to Neptune's custody. In short, wherever a difficult submarine operation had to be undertaken, Edgar Berrington and his man Joe, with, perhaps, a gang of divers under them, were pretty sure to be asked to undertake it.

The risk, we need scarcely say, was often considerable; hence the remuneration was good, and both Edgar and his man speedily acquired a considerable sum of money.

At the end of two years, the former came to the conclusion that he had a sufficient sum at his credit in the bank to warrant a visit to the cottage by the sea; and it was when this idea had grown into a fixed intention that he found himself, as we have mentioned, in rather comfortable circ.u.mstances at the bottom of the sea.

The particular part of the bottom lay off the west coast of England.

Joe and a gang of men were hard at work on a pier when Edgar went down.

He carried a slate and piece of pencil with him. The bottom was not very deep down. There was sufficient light to enable him to find his man easily.

Joe was busy laying a large stone in its bed. When he raised his burly form, after fixing the stone, Edgar stepped forward, and, touching him on the shoulder, held out the slate, whereon was written in a bold running hand:--

"Joe, I'm going off to get engaged, and after that, as soon as possible, to be married."