The Lifeboat by Robert Michael Ballantyne (whitelam books TXT) 📕

ready for sea. The gold fever is at its height just now, and it strikes me that, with a little judgment and prudence, a good thing may be made out there. At any rate, I mean to venture; for our speculations last year have, as you know, turned out well, with the exception of that unfortunate `Trident,' and we are sufficiently in funds just at this time to afford to run considerable risk."

Crumps expressed great satisfaction, and agreed with all that Denham said. He also asked what the name of the new ship was to be.

"The `Trident,'" said Mr Denham.

"What! the name of the ship we lost in Saint Margaret's Bay?" exclaimed Crumps, in surprise.

"I thought you knew the name of the ship we lost in Saint Margaret's Bay," said Denham sarcastically.

"Of course, of course," replied Crumps, in some confusion, "but I mean-- that is, don't you think it looks like flying in the face of Providence to give it the same name?"

"Mr Crumps," said Denham, with an air of dignified reproof, "it is most unnatural, most uncalled for, to talk of Providence in connexion with business. It is a word, sir, that may be appropriately used on Sundays and in churches, but not in offices, and I beg that you will not again allude to it. There is no such thing, sir, as Providence in business matters--at least such is my opinion; and I say this in order that you may understand that any remarks of that kind are quite thrown away on me. I am a plain practical man of business, Mr Crumps; once for all, allow me to say that, I object to the very unbusinesslike remarks of a theological nature which you are sometimes pleased to introduce into our conversations. I again repeat that there is no such thing as Providence in business,--at all events, not in _my_ business."

"I will not again offend you," said poor Crumps, who stood looking confused and moving his legs uneasily during the delivery of this oration, "but as you have condescended to argue the matter slightly, may I venture to hint that our ships are propelled chiefly by means of sails, and that the winds are in the hands of Providence."

"There, sir, I utterly disagree with you," retorted Denham, "the winds are guided in their courses by the fixed laws of Nature, and cannot be altered or modified by the wishes or powers of man; therefore, it is quite unnecessary, because useless, to regard them in matters of business. I am utterly devoid, sir, of superstition; and it is partly in order to make this clear to all with whom I have to do, that I intend to name our new ship the `Trident,' and to order her to sail on a Friday."

As Mr Denham accompanied his last word with an inclination of the head which was equivalent to a dismissal, Mr Crumps sighed and retired to his den. His practical and unsuperstitious partner opened and read the letters.

While Denham was thus engaged a tap came to the door, and old Mr Summers entered the room.

"Ah! Summers, glad to see you, how are you?" said Denham, somewhat heartily--_for him_.

"Thank you, Denham, I'm well," replied the benign old gentleman with a smile, as he fixed a pair of gold spectacles on his nose, and sat down in a most businesslike way to examine a bundle of papers which he pulled out of his coat-pocket.

Mr Summers was a very old friend of Denham, and had been the friend of his father before him; but _that_ was not the reason of Denham's regard for him. The old gentleman happened to be a merchant in the city, with whom Denham, Crumps, and Company did extensive and advantageous business. This was the cause of Denham's unwonted urbanity. He cared little for the old man's friendship. In fact, he would have dispensed with it without much regret, for he was sometimes pressed to contribute to charities by his philanthropic friend.

"See, I have settled that matter for you satisfactorily," said Mr Summers; "there are the papers, which you can look over at your leisure."

"Thank you, Mr Summers," said Denham impressively, "this is _indeed_ very kind of you. But for your interference in this affair I am convinced that I should have lost a thousand pounds, if not more."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the old gentleman with a bright smile, "come, I'm glad to hear you say so, and it makes my second errand all the more easy."

"And what may your second errand be?" said Denham, with a sudden gravity of countenance, which showed that he more than suspected it.

"Well, the fact is," began Summers, "it's a little matter of begging that I have undertaken for the purpose of raising funds to establish one or two lifeboats on parts of our coast where they are very much needed. (Denham fidgeted in his chair.) You know I have a villa near Deal, and frequently witness the terrible scenes of shipwreck that are so common and so fatal on that coast. I am sorry to say that my begging expedition has not been attended with so much success as I had anticipated. It is not such agreeable work as one might suppose, I assure you, one gets so many unexpected rebuffs. Did you ever try begging, Denham?"

Denham said he never had, and, unless reduced to it by circumstances, did not mean to do so!

"Ah," continued Mr Summers, "if you ever do try you'll be surprised to find how difficult it is to screw money out of some people." (Mr Denham thought that that difficulty would not surprise him at all.) "But you'll be delighted to find, on the other hand, what a number of truly liberal souls there are. It's quite a treat, for instance, to meet with a man,--as I did the other day,--who gives his charity in the light of such principles as these:--`The Lord loveth a cheerful giver;' `It is more blessed to give than to receive;' `He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord,'--one who lays aside a certain proportion of his income for charitable purposes, and who, therefore, knowing exactly how much he has to give at any moment, gives or refuses, as the case may be, promptly and with a good grace."

"Ha!" exclaimed Denham, whose soul abhorred this sort of talk, but whose self-interest compelled him to listen to it.

"Really," pursued Mr Summers, "it is quite interesting to study the outs and ins of Christian philanthropy. Have you ever given much attention to the subject, Mr Denham? Of course, I mean in a philosophical way."

"Ha a-hem! well, I cannot say that I have, except perhaps in my capacity of a poor-law guardian in this district of the city."

"Indeed, I would recommend it to you. It is quite a relief to men of business like you and me, who are necessarily swallowed up all day in the matter of making money, to have the mind occasionally directed to the consideration of the best methods of getting rid of a little of their superabundance. It would do them a world of good--I can safely say so from experience--to consider such matters. I daresay that you also know something of this from experience."

"Ha!" ejaculated Mr Denham, who felt himself getting internally warm, but was constrained (of course from disinterested motives) to keep cool and appear amiable.

"But forgive my taking up so much of your time, my dear sir," said Mr Summers, rising; "what shall I put you down for?"

Denham groaned inaudibly and said, "Well, I've no objection to give twenty pounds."

"How much?" said the old gentleman, as though he had heard imperfectly, at the same time pulling out a notebook.

There was a slight peculiarity in the tone of the question that induced Denham to say he would give fifty pounds.

"Ah! fifty," said Summers, preparing to write, "thank you, Mr Denham (here he looked up gravely and added), the subject, however, is one which deserves liberal consideration at the hands of society in general; _especially of ship owners_. Shall we say a hundred, my dear sir?"

Denham was about to plead poverty, but recollecting that he had just admitted that his friend had been the means of saving a thousand pounds to the business, he said, "Well, let it be a hundred," with the best grace he could.

"Thank you, Mr Denham, a thousand thanks," said the old gentleman, shaking his friend's hand, and quitting the room with the active step of a man who had much more business to do that day before dinner.

Mr Denham returned to the perusal of his letters with the feelings of a man who has come by a heavy loss. Yet, strange to say, he comforted himself on his way home that evening with the thought that, after all, he had done a liberal thing! that he had "given away a hundred pounds sterling in charity."

_Given_ it! Poor Denham! he did not know that, up to that period, he had never _given_ away a single farthing of his wealth in the true spirit of liberality--although he had given much in the name of charity.


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.


DARK DEEDS ARE DONE UPON THE SEA--TOMMY BOGEY IN GREAT DANGER.

"Well, Bluenose, hoo d'ye find yerself to-day?" inquired Supple Rodger one fine morning, as the Captain sauntered slowly along the beach in front of his hut, with his hands deep in the pockets of his pilot-coat.

"Thankee, I amongst the middlings. How's yerself?"

"I like myself," said Rodgers; "how's old Jeph?"

"Rather or'nary; but I dessay he'll come all square after a day or two in dock," answered the Captain; "I left him shored up in bed with bolsters."

"So Tommy's slipped his cable, I'm told?" said Rodgers interrogatively.

"Ay, he's off, an' no mistake. I thought he was jokin', for I heard him talk o' goin' after Bax some time past, but nothin' more come of it till yesterday, when he comes to me and bids me good day, and then off like a galley after a French smuggler. It's o' no use tryin' to catch him. That boy'll make his way and have his will somehow, whether we let him or no. Ay, ay," said Bluenose, lighting his pipe with a heavy sigh, "Tommy Bogey's gone for good."

That was the last that was heard of poor Tommy for many a long day on the beach of Deal. But as there is no good reason why the readers should be kept in the dark regarding his movements, we shall follow him on the rugged path he had selected, and leave the men of Deal to wonder for a time, and talk, and then forget him.

Having waited as long as his patience could hold out, and no letter having come from Bax, Tommy at last prepared to carry out his plan. By dint of hard labour among the boats at any odd jobs that people would give him, and running messages, and making himself generally useful to the numerous strangers who visited that fine and interesting part of the coast, he had scraped together a few pounds. By persevering study at nights he had acquired a fair knowledge of figures and a smattering of navigation. Thus equipped in mind and purse he went off to seek his fortune.