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

is all I've got to say: The old house ain't worth much, but such
as it is, it's yours, or it may go the same way as the guineas.

"Now, Bax, may God bless you, and make you one of His own children,
through Jesus Christ. My heart warms to you for your own sake, and
for the sake of her whose name you bear. Farewell.--Your old friend
and mate, JEPH."

Bax stooped over the bed, and pressed his lips to the dead man's forehead, when he had finished reading this letter. For some time the two friends sat talking of old Jeph's sayings and doings in former days, forgetful of the treasure of which the epistle spoke. At last Bax rose and drew a table to the corner mentioned in the letter. Getting upon this, he found an old board nailed against the wall.

"Hand me that axe, Guy; it must be behind this."

The board was soon wrenched off, and a small door revealed in the wall. The key opened it at once, and inside a bag was found. Untying this, Bax emptied the glittering contents on the table. It was a large heap, amounting to five hundred guineas!

"I congratulate you, Bax," said Guy; "this removes a great difficulty out of your way. Five hundred guineas will give you a fair start."

"Do you suppose that I will appropriate this to myself?" said Bax. "You and Tommy are mentioned in the letter as well as me."

"You may do as you please in regard to Tommy," said Guy, "but as for me, I have a good salary, and won't touch a guinea of it."

"Well, well," said Bax, with a sad smile, "this is neither the time nor place to talk of such matters. It is time to give notice of the old man's death."

Saying this, he returned the gold to its former place, locked the hide, and replaced the board. As he was doing this, a peculiar cut in the beam over his head caught his eye.

"I do believe here is another hide," said he. "Hand the axe again."

A piece of wood was soon forced out of the side of the beam next the wall, and it was discovered that the beam itself was hollow. Nothing was found in it, however, except a crumpled piece of paper.

"See here, there is writing on this," said Guy, picking up the paper which Bax flung down. "It is a crabbed hand, but I think I can make it out:--`Dear Bogue, you will find the tubs down Pegwell Bay, with the sinkers on 'em; the rest of the swag in Fiddler's Cave.'"

"Humph! an old smuggler's letter," said Bax. "Mayhap the tubs and swag are there yet!"

We may remark here, that, long after the events now related, Bax and Guy remembered this note and visited the spots mentioned out of curiosity, but neither "tubs" nor "swag" were found!

Quitting the room with heavy hearts, the two friends locked the door, and went in search of those who are wont to perform the last offices to the dead.


CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.


THE CONCLUSION.

There came a day at last when the rats in Redwharf Lane obtained an entire holiday, doubtless to their own amazement, and revelled in almost unmolested felicity from morning till night. The office of Denham, Crumps, and Company was shut; the reason being that the head of the firm was dead.

Mr Denham had died without a will.

At the time when Guy offended his uncle by expressing his opinion too freely, Denham vowed in his heart that his nephew should not inherit his business or fortune. He resolved to leave both to another nephew, the son of a younger brother, at that time in the East India Company's service. But as death was a contingency inconceivably remote from himself, at least in his own opinion, he did not think it necessary to make his will at that time. He died, therefore, as we have said, without making it.

He died, also, without carrying out any of his good intentions!

It is a common mistake to suppose that a man has only to repent of his evil deeds, and that thenceforth all will be plain sailing. The habits of a lifetime are not to be overcome without a hard struggle, even in the most sincere of Christians.

Denham, after being saved by the Ramsgate lifeboat, had made up his mind to turn his wealth to good account, and, in his philanthropic plans, had resolved to look with special favour on the Lifeboat Institution. But he delayed to carry out these plans. He did not strike when the iron was hot, and so the iron began slowly to cool. He had also determined to reinstate Bax in his employment, and to take Guy into partnership, but he delayed in these matters also. The love of gold and the memory of fancied insults began to tell on him, as of old. He even went so far as to meditate carrying out his former intention of making his will in favour of the nephew in India!

Still Denham did not fall back to his old position. A struggle which began when he resided with his sister at Deal, went on in his breast continually. While this struggle was yet undecided, a fever seized him. His constitution, weakened by the hardships which he had so recently undergone, gave way, and he died.

The result was that the business fell to the next-of-kin,--Mrs Foster, whose son, in the natural course of things, stepped into his uncle's shoes. The result of this was that poor Denham's good resolves, and a great many more good resolves than Denham could ever have conceived of, were carried out in a way that would have amazed him had he been there to see it, and that almost took the breath away from old Mr Crumps.

A glance at Guy in his office, not long after his uncle's death, will show the reader how things were managed by the new head of the firm.

Guy was seated in Denham's chair, at Denham's desk, reading and writing what, in former days, would have been Denham's letters. Presently Mr Crumps entered.

"I was just going to ask you to consult with me," said Guy; "pray sit down, sit down, Mr Crumps."

The old man in his modesty meant to stand, as, in former days, he would have stood before Denham.

"Here is a letter from a friend," continued Guy, "asking for a contribution towards the establishment of a lifeboat on the coast of Wales. He reminds me that I myself was once indebted to the services of a lifeboat when my life was in great danger, and hopes that I will respond liberally to his appeal. His name is Clelland. He was on board the old `Trident,' when she was wrecked in Saint Margaret's Bay. I made his acquaintance then. Now, what do you think we ought to give? I should like to have your advice on this point, and on several other matters of a similar nature, Mr Crumps, because there has been no regular `Charity' account in our ledger, I find, and I would like to open one. Don't you think it would be as well to open one?"

Mr Crumps thought it would, and--being a man of naturally charitable and liberal impulses, who had been constantly snubbed by Mr Denham for many years past--he felt overjoyed at the prospect of a new era opening up before him.

"Well, what shall we send to Mr Clelland?" pursued Guy. Mr Crumps, unable all at once to get over old habits and associations, suggested fifty pounds, timidly.

"The district is a poor one," said Guy; "perhaps, that being the case--"

"Say a hundred," put in Crumps eagerly (and then, in a partially apologetic tone), "the business can afford it, my dear sir. Heaven knows it is but little that--"

The old man's voice faltered and stopped. He was going to have made a remark that would have cast a slur on the character of his late partner, so he checked himself and sighed.

"Well, then, it shall be a hundred," said Guy, jotting down the sum on a slip of paper. "I would not advise more to be given to that particular district just now, because it might tend to check the efforts of the people on the spot. If they fail to raise the requisite sum, we can then give what is necessary. Now, there is an urgent appeal for funds being made just now to the public by the Lifeboat Institution. I think this a good opportunity to give away some of the cash which ought to have been--"

Guy hesitated. He too was about to make a remark that would have been unfavourable to the character of his late uncle, so he checked himself.

"What do you say to giving them a thousand pounds?"

Mr Crumps said nothing to it. He was too much taken aback to say anything; but when he saw that Guy had jotted the sum down, and was apparently in earnest, he nodded his head, blew his nose violently, for a man of his years and character, and chuckled.

"Well, then," continued Guy, "there is another subject which occurs to me just now, although it does not come under the head of charities. I wish to supply a ship's lifeboat to every vessel that belongs to us, and a set of life-belts, besides other things. I estimate that this will require a sum of nearly two thousand pounds. Let me see--"

Here Guy began to jot and calculate, and to talk to himself in an undertone, while Mr Crumps, utterly bereft of speech, sat staring in amazement and delight at his young partner.

While they were thus engaged, the tiger in blue who had supplanted Peekins entered, and said that three gentlemen wished to see Mr Foster.

"Show them in," said Guy. "Sit still, Mr Crumps, I have not yet done with my calculations."

In a few seconds Bax, Bluenose, and Tommy Bogey were ushered into the office. The latter had become a tall, handsome stripling during his residence abroad, and bid fair to rival Bax himself in stature. They shook hands cordially with Guy and Mr Crumps.

"Well, Bax, is the new ship a good one?" said Guy; "d'you think she will suit you?"

"That will she," said Bax, with a gratified look. "As the old song says--


"`She's a ship that's as tight to my fancy
As ever sailed o'er the salt seas.'


"I think she will be ready for sea in a couple of months. By that time I will be ready to take command, if you choose to trust her to me."

"Trust her to you, Bax! Do you think we may trust our new vessel to him, Mr Crumps?" inquired Guy, with a smile.

Mr Crumps, not having recovered the power of speech, nodded his head, and rubbed his hands slowly, a benignant smile playing on his old face the while.

"Well, then," continued Bax, "Amy, so far from making any objection to going to sea with me, says that