CHAPTER XXVII
CONCLUSION
Mr. Brudenel, as has been said, met Sunshine while on his morning ride,and returned in desperate haste to gather up his men, and theammunition, etc., necessary for the skirmish which he knew was in storefor them.
He met his wife, who, perceiving that some unusual event had happened,came anxiously to meet him.
"What is it, my dear?" asked she.
"Don't delay me, wifey," said he in violent hurry. "A girl has broughtin an account of a daring outbreak of dacoity. From her story I hope tocatch the fellow I have been looking out for this long time. Don't befrightened if I don't come home to-night, the place is some way off, andthere will be a scrimmage; but all will go well, I hope."
"A scrimmage!" exclaimed Mrs. Brudenel in terror. "Oh, Harry!"
"Don't be a little goose, my dear; such things must come sometimes.There, kiss me,--don't worry yourself, good-bye. Take care of the girltill I come back," shouted he at the last moment, mounting his pony, andcalling back over his shoulder, preparing to follow his men out of thecompound.
He was gone, and his wife's eyes were so full of tears that she couldnot see him to the very last. The clatter of the ponies' feet fadedaway, and she re-entered the house. Mr. Gilchrist, who had been takingan early ramble, met her. "What is all the excitement about?" asked he.
"I hardly know," replied she; "some Burmese girl has brought news ofdacoits, and Harry has gone to see about it. He expects to fight, and Iam so frightened."
The tears gathered again, and rolled down her white cheeks.
"Don't alarm yourself, my dear young lady," said Mr. Gilchrist kindly."Your husband has gone through such things a dozen times before safely,and we will hope that all will be right again. Where is the girl? ShallI talk to her and find out all about it?"
"Oh, I would be _so_ much obliged if you would! I cannot understand halfthat the people say yet."
Sunshine was in the cook's house, being fed and comforted by theservants. Mr. Gilchrist began to talk to her, and had not exchanged manysentences before his interest deepened into great excitement.
"Osborn!--Wills!" he cried, "come here and listen. This girl says thatthere are young Englishmen in the village, is it possible that one couldbe our dear Ralph? What did you say they are called, my dear?"
But the soft nature of the Burmese language utterly refused toaccommodate itself to the harsh sounds of our friends' names. "Ralph"had always been pronounced "Yabe," and "Kirke" had been quiteunmanageable, so he had proposed being called "Jamie," which wasrendered "Yamie."
"Yabe" and "Yamie" puzzled Mr. Gilchrist, who did not know that Kirkewas christened James. "What are the Englishmen like, girl?"
"Yamie is big, oh, so big!" said she. "He is good, but his eyes do notlaugh like those of Yabe. They have dark fire in them, and he has hairall round," passing her hand about the lower part of her face. "It islike the jungle bushes."
"What colour?" asked Wills.
"Like yours," said she.
Wills was black-haired and grizzled. His face fell. "He is old, then?"asked he.
"No, young," replied Sunshine. "Young as a father."
"It cannot be Ralph," said he.
"That is what he calls the other," said Sunshine; "Yabe, that is what hecalls him. Moung Yabe, Moung Shway Yabe, I say, for he is good, oh, sogood! He came for me when the _thok'kee_ blazed, and all was on fire; hesaved me, and took Me Poh on his back, and saved her from those beloosof thieves, and from the hot fire. Oh, Moung Yabe is strong and good, asgold--fine gold. My dear Moung Shway Paya Yabe."
"Is he like me, too?" asked old Wills.
Sunshine laughed out all over her face, her eyes danced with merriment."Oh, no, no, no!" she cried. "Moung Yabe young, Moung Yabe beautiful! Helaugh like Sunshine; he gay, he play with little Sunshine, throw rosesat her, run after her--dance, sing. All the girls love Moung Yabe, myMoung Shway Yabe! Oh," she resumed, breaking down all at once intosorrow, "if the good soldiers are only in time to save my Moung Yabefrom those beloos!"
The men looked at each other. "Can it be Ralph?" they asked, hopedawning upon each in turn.
"Is _his_ hair like the jungle bushes?" inquired Gilchrist.
"No, no!" said Sunshine, cheering up again. "Moung Yabe is Shway Yabe,golden boy, white as the lady, no hair here," again passing her handover her face.
Sudden inspiration seized upon Osborn, "Does he sing like this?" askedhe, beginning Ralph's well-known "I'll bang my harp on a willow tree."
Sunshine laughed outright. "That is my Moung Yabe's music," said she;and, making it into a literal song without words, she finished the airwith great glee.
"My God!--my God is merciful!" ejaculated Mr. Gilchrist. "Osborn, mypony; quick, quick!"
"Oh! are you going to help Mr. Brudenel?" asked his wife. "How good ofyou! You will keep him safe, won't you, and bring him back unhurt?"
"Tell her, Wills!" shouted Mr. Gilchrist, forgetting his manners utterlyas he rushed out to the stable.
Osborn was as excited as he; they snatched down their saddles, had themupon their ponies in three minutes, and were tearing out of the compoundbefore Mrs. Brudenel comprehended anything of the matter.
Wills, indeed, forgot her interest, and the danger to her husband, inhis wistful longing to accompany them. "I wish, I do wish I could ha'gone too," sighed he; but there was not a beast left in the stable now,all had gone, and only the servants of the house remained.
By degrees the lady's questions recalled him to the present, and he toldher all. There was much mystery about Sunshine's story even now. Who theEnglishman was who had so much gold, and who had arrived in the villagealone, and been so ill there, was a great puzzle. Sunshine said that heknew Moung Yabe, they were brothers,--"Dohs,"--whether "thway-thouks" orblood-drinkers she did not know.
She here alluded to a peculiar custom among the Burmans, of two friendsswearing to be brothers to each other, and in some cases cementing thealliance by drinking water mixed with drops of blood taken from eachothers' arms.
Yabe, Sunshine said, had come across the river, naked, and had nothingwith him but a little packet of plants which must have been charmed,and protected him from wild beasts in the jungle. He could not have comenaked through the wild jungle unless the "nats" had taken care of him.Where he came from Sunshine did not know. Yamie had paid her mother formaking clothes for him such as he wore himself; made from native cloth,but not "putsoes."
The plants seemed to point yet more directly to the stranger beingidentical with Denham, but who could "Yamie" be? And how did Denhamarrive there, and in such a condition?
But Mrs. Brudenel was sure that it must be Ralph. She set herself tomake every possible preparation, and the occupation helped her to passthat anxious day.
Sunshine, as soon as she had told all she knew, being well fed and madecomfortable, fell sound asleep on a mat in the verandah, and rested fromher fatigues.
Hour passed after hour, and none of the men returned. Mrs. Brudenelbecame sick with apprehension, nor was old Wills much better. Neither ofthem retired to rest that night, for they hoped that some of the partywould return every moment. They sat together, each trying to keep up abrave face before the other, but neither of them much deceived.
Mrs. Brudenel went to her room, ever and anon, and sank on her knees topray for the beloved of her heart. Then she brought her Bible, and readaloud to the old seaman soothing words of promise. It helped them bothmore than anything else could have done.
With the earliest dawn breakfast was prepared, but no one came topartake of it. The butler cleared it away, and laid tiffin, but no onecould touch it.
Mrs. Brudenel's ayah, who was much attached to her kind young mistress,brought a glass of claret and a biscuit to her, and begged her to takeit so earnestly that she would not refuse, and she persuaded Wills tohave the same.
Then the long waiting recommenced, and then a restless pacing of theverandah, the walks in the compound, the house itself. They could settleto noth
ing.
At last a servant ran up to the drawing-room window, when Mrs.Brudenel's eyes were bent down upon her Bible, and, for the twentiethtime, she was trying to calm her beating pulses with the words, "Let notyour heart be troubled."
"They come, lady! They come, missie! Master is come!"
She sprang to her feet. Yes, there was Mr. Brudenel at the head of hismen, crossing the ford in the valley beneath her feet. There was Mr.Gilchrist, waving his hat frantically. There was Osborn, hand to mouth,evidently yelling out "Hooray!" at the top of his voice, though stilltoo far off to be heard.
And who else? Behind Mr. Gilchrist appeared a slim, fair-haired lad, ina loose dress of dark native cloth and a wide palm-leaf hat. He liftedhis head at Osborn's wild gestures, and waved his hat to Wills.
"Oh, my God, I thank Thee, I humbly thank Thee!" ejaculated the old manfervently.
The servants almost tumbled over each other in their excited haste tosee, to prepare, to welcome. Mrs. Brudenel and old Wills shook hands,with streaming eyes, under the relief from the intense strain upon theirspirits through so many hours.
The troop entered the compound, and was surrounded by the eagerhousehold.
"We have him, Wills," was heard in Mr. Gilchrist's glad voice.
"My Yabe! My Moung Shway boy!" cried Sunshine.
"Oh, Harry! Harry!" sobbed Mrs. Brudenel, clinging to him.
"My boy, my boy! My dear young master!" exclaimed old Wills.
"Where are the dacoits' heads?" asked the men-servants.
"Was anyone hurt?" asked the ayah, mother to one of the men.
All spoke at once, no one answered anybody else. Ralph nearly wrungWills' hands off; Osborn thumped him on the back, and slapped his ownthighs with triumphant joy; while Mr. Gilchrist's face, as he presentedRalph to Mrs. Brudenel, with his hand upon the lad's shoulder, was goodto see.
There were fervent thanksgivings in that house before the inmatesretired, but there was little explanation of all which had occurreduntil, after a quiet night's rest, they all reassembled in the earlymorning. Then Ralph, in a simple, straightforward manner, recounted hisadventures,--told of Kirke's repentance, his goodness to himself, hisbravery, and his gallant defence of the village.
"Oh, how well he redeemed the past!" mourned he. "What a fine fellow hewas after all, and he has gone without anyone knowing of what he did! Iloved him,--he earned the love of all, and the respect too."
The dacoits had been sent to Rangoon for trial, and were all hangedeventually, many crimes being traced to their score.
Ralph's adventures were now at an end; Mr. Gilchrist gave up hiswanderings, and went down to Rangoon with him, under the escort of Mr.Brudenel, when that gentleman went to give evidence against the tigerdacoit. He went the more willingly inasmuch as Ralph's little orchidsproved to be of a hitherto unknown species, and very valuable.
Sunshine, plentifully rewarded, was restored safely to her friends, andall the houses were rebuilt better and stronger than before.
Great treasures of English manufacture reached the place from time totime; for Ralph never forgot the children with whom he had played, thewomen who had tended him, the men who had fought by his side, or thegrave of him who had been his worst enemy and his greatest friend.
To that man's father he wrote, making light of his failings, butdetailing his gallantry at every point.
In course of time he received an answer, which ran as follows:--
"SIR,--I thank you for the comfort which you have given me regarding my dear son. Your letter, with his confession, and attempt to redeem his past, are an old man's greatest treasures, and shall lie on his breast when life shall be no more."
Ralph rose to wealth and repute in Rangoon, and was always a comfort tohis mother, the joy of her heart.
Mr. Gilchrist became a great scientific botanist, and published many avolume upon the jungles of Burma.
JULES VERNE
The romantic old French town of Nantes, near the estuary of the Loire,and only thirty-five miles away from the sea, has the honour of havingbeen the birthplace of Jules Verne, the author of bewitching storiesthat have now fascinated three generations of girls and boys.
Jules Verne was many years before he found where his strength lay. Hewas educated at Nantes, and then he went to Paris to study law. Next hebegan to write plays and comedies, some of which reached the stage; andit was not until the year 1863, when he was thirty-five years of age,that he went to a publisher in Paris, with a story entitled, _Five Weeksin a Balloon_, and so began that very long list of books by which he hasbecome famous.
Jules Verne delighted to live in _Le Saint Michel_, a small yacht ofeight or ten tons, in which was a large chest that contained the boat'slibrary. On board this yacht Jules Verne thought out some of hiswonderful romances. Usually his trips were from Crotoy to Harve; but attimes he took in more provisions and fared forth to the coasts ofNormandy, Brittany, and even of England.
Each reader will decide for himself which of Jules Verne's captivatingstories he likes best; but the critics mention _Dropped from the Clouds_and _Around the World in Eighty Days_ as the books which stand apartfrom the others. Some of our most attractive stories are about islands:_Robinson Crusoe_ and Robert Louis Stevenson's _Treasure Island_, andVerne's _The Mysterious Island_ is fit to rank with these. Under thisone title we have a group of three separate volumes. First comes_Dropped from the Clouds_, then _Abandoned_, and the whole narrative iscompleted by _The Secret of the Island_. The boy who embarks upon thereading of these three books has a long period of excitement and delightstretching in front of him. The very numerous pictures, too, in thesethree memorable volumes are very arresting.
Jules Verne died on March 24, 1905, at Amiens when he was seventy-sevenyears of age, and he left a long list of books.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Golden is a term of approval or endearment.
[2] Pyin=lazy
[3] Native pony.
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