CHAPTER THREE.
OUR HERO OBLIGED TO GO TO SEA.
When Ruby Brand reached the outskirts of Arbroath, he checked his speedand walked into his native town whistling gently, and with his hands inhis pockets, as though he had just returned from an evening walk. Hedirected his steps to one of the streets near the harbour, in which hismother's cottage was situated.
Mrs Brand was a delicate, little old woman--so little and so old thatpeople sometimes wondered how it was possible that she could be themother of such a stalwart son. She was one of those kind, gentle,uncomplaining, and unselfish beings, who do not secure much popularityor admiration in this world, but who secure obedient children, alsosteadfast and loving friends. Her favourite book was the Bible; herfavourite hope in regard to earthly matters, that men should give upfighting and drinking, and live in peace; her favourite theory that thestudy of _truth_ was the object for which man was created, and herfavourite meal--tea.
Ruby was her only child. Minnie was the daughter of a distant relation,and, having been left an orphan, she was adopted by her. Mrs Brand'shusband was a sailor. He commanded a small coasting sloop, of whichRuby had been the mate for several years. As we have said, Ruby hadbeen prevailed on to remain at home for some months in order to pleasehis mother, whose delicacy of health was such that his refusal wouldhave injured her seriously; at least the doctor said so, therefore Rubyagreed to stay.
The sloop _Penguin_, commanded by Ruby's father, was on a voyage toNewcastle at that time, and was expected in Arbroath every day. But itwas fated never more to cast anchor in that port. The great storm, towhich reference has been made in a previous chapter, caused many wreckson the shores of Britain. The _Penguin_, was one of the many.
In those days telegraphs, railroads, and penny papers did not exist.Murders were committed then, as now, but little was said, and less wasknown about them. Wrecks occurred then, as now, but few, except thepersons immediately concerned, heard of them. "Destructive fires","terrible accidents", and the familiar round of "appalling catastrophes"occurred then, as now, but their influence was limited, and theiroccurrence soon forgotten.
We would not be understood to mean that "now" (as compared with "then"),all is right and well; that telegraphs and railways and daily papers areall-potent and perfect. By no means. We have still much to learn andto do in these improved times; and, especially, there is wanting to alarge extent among us a sympathetic telegraphy, so to speak, between theinterior of our land and the sea-coast, which, if it existed in full andvigorous play, would go far to improve our condition, and raise us inthe esteem of Christian nations. Nevertheless, as compared with now,the state of things then was lamentably imperfect.
The great storm came and went, having swept thousands of souls intoeternity, and hundreds of thousands of pounds into nonentity. Lifeboatshad not been invented. Harbours of refuge were almost unknown, andalthough our coasts bristled with dangerous reefs and headlands,lighthouses were few and far between. The consequence was, that wreckswere numerous; and so also were wreckers,--a class of men, who, in theabsence of an efficient coastguard, subsisted to a large extent on whatthey picked up from the wrecks that were cast in their way, and who didnot scruple, sometimes, to _cause_ wrecks, by showing false lights inorder to decoy vessels to destruction.
We do not say that all wreckers were guilty of such crimes, but many ofthem were so, and their style of life, at the best, had naturally ademoralising influence upon all of them.
The famous Bell Rock, lying twelve miles off the coast of Forfarshire,was a prolific source of destruction to shipping. Not only did numbersof vessels get upon it, but many others ran upon the neighbouring coastsin attempting to avoid it.
Ruby's father knew the navigation well, but, in the confusion anddarkness of the furious storm, he miscalculated his position and ranupon the rock, where, as we have seen, his body was afterwards found bythe two fishermen. It was conveyed by them to the cottage of MrsBrand, and when Ruby entered he found his mother on her knees by thebedside, pressing the cold hand of his father to her breast, and gazingwith wild, tearless eyes into the dead face.
We will not dwell upon the sad scenes that followed.
Ruby was now under the necessity of leaving home, because his motherbeing deprived of her husband's support naturally turned in distress toher son. But Ruby had no employment, and work could not be easilyobtained at that time in the town, so there was no other resource lefthim but to go to sea. This he did in a small coasting sloop belongingto an old friend, who gave him part of his wages in advance to enablehim to leave his mother a small provision, at least for a short time.
This, however, was not all that the widow had to depend on. Minnie Graywas expert with her needle, and for some years past had contributed nota little to the comforts of the household into which she had beenadopted. She now set herself to work with redoubled zeal and energy.Besides this, Mrs Brand had a brother, a retired skipper, who obtainedthe complimentary title of Captain from his friends. He was a poor man,it is true, as regarded money, having barely sufficient for his ownsubsistence, but he was rich in kindliness and sympathy, so that hemanaged to make his small income perform wonders. On hearing of hisbrother-in-law's death, Captain Ogilvy hastened to afford all theconsolation in his power to his sorrowing sister.
The captain was an eccentric old man, of rugged aspect. He thought thatthere was not a worse comforter on the face of the earth than himself,because, when he saw others in distress, his heart invariably got intohis throat, and absolutely prevented him from saying a single word. Hetried to speak to his sister, but all he could do was to take her handand _weep_. This did the poor widow more good than any words could havedone, no matter how eloquently or fitly spoken. It unlocked thefountain of her own heart, and the two wept together.
When Captain Ogilvy accompanied Ruby on board the sloop to see him off,and shook hands as he was about to return to the shore, he said--"Cheerup, Ruby; never say die so long as there's a shot in the looker. That'sthe advice of an old salt, an' you'll find it sound, the more you ponderof it. W'en a young feller sails away on the sea of life, let himalways go by chart and compass, not forgettin' to take soundin's w'encruisin' off a bad coast. Keep a sharp lookout to wind'ard, an' mindyer helm--that's _my_ advice to you lad, as ye go:--
"`A-sailin' down life's troubled stream, All as if it wor a dream.'"
The captain had a somewhat poetic fancy (at least he was impressed withthe belief that he had), and was in the habit of enforcing his argumentsby quotations from memory. When memory failed he supplemented withoriginal composition.
"Goodbye, lad, an' Providence go wi' ye."
"Goodbye, uncle. I need not remind you to look after mother when I'maway."
"No, nephy, you needn't; I'll do it whether or not."
"And Minnie, poor thing, she'll need a word of advice and comfort nowand then, uncle."
"And she shall have it, lad," replied the captain with a tremendouswink, which was unfortunately lost on the nephew, in consequence of itsbeing night and unusually dark, "advice and comfort on demand, gratis;for:--
"`Woman, in her hours of ease, Is most uncommon hard to please;'
"But she _must_ be looked arter, ye know, and made of, d'ye see? soRuby, boy, farewell."
Half-an-hour before midnight was the time chosen for the sailing of thesloop _Termagant_, in order that she might get away quietly and escapethe press-gang. Ruby and his uncle had taken the precaution to go downto the harbour just a few minutes before sailing, and they kept asclosely as possible to the darkest and least-frequented streets whilepassing through the town.
Captain Ogilvy returned by much the same route to his sister's cottage,but did not attempt to conceal his movements. On the contrary, knowingthat the sloop must have got clear of the harbour by that time, he wentalong the streets whistling cheerfully. He had been a noted, not to saynoisy, whistler when a boy, and the habit had not forsaken him in hisold age. On turning shar
p round a corner, he ran against two men, oneof whom swore at him, but the other cried--
"Hallo! messmate, yer musical the night. Hey, Captain Ogilvy, surely Iseed you an' Ruby slinkin' down the dark side o' the market-gate half an'oor ago?"
"Mayhap ye did, an' mayhap ye didn't," retorted the captain, as hewalked on; "but as it's none o' your business to know, I'll not tellye."
"Ay, ay? O but ye're a cross auld chap. Pleasant dreams t'ye."
This kindly remark, which was expressed by our friend Davy Spink, waslost on the captain, in consequence of his having resumed his musicalrecreation with redoubled energy, as he went rolling back to the cottageto console Mrs Brand, and to afford "advice and comfort gratis" toMinnie Gray.