CHAPTER TWO.
DESCRIBES A MERCHANT AND HIS GOD, AND CONCLUDES WITH "A MESSAGE FROM THESEA."
A close-fisted, hard-hearted, narrow-minded, poor-spirited man was JohnWebster, Esquire, merchant and shipowner, of Ingot Lane, Liverpool. Andyet he was not altogether without good points. Indeed, it might be saidof him that if he had been reared under more favourable circumstances hemight have been an ornament to society and a blessing to his country,for he was intelligent and sociable, and susceptible to some extent oftender influences, when the indulging of amiable feelings did notinterfere with his private interests. In youth he had even gone thelength of holding some good principles, and was known to have done oneor two noble things--but all this had passed away, for as he grew olderthe hopeful springs were dried up, one by one, by an all-absorbingpassion--the love of money--which ultimately made him what he was, adisgrace to the class to which he belonged, and literally (though not,it would seem, in the eye of law) a wholesale murderer!
At first he began by holding, and frequently stating, the opinion thatthe possession of much money was a most desirable thing; whichundoubtedly was--and is, and will be as long as the world lasts--perfectly true, if the possession be accompanied with God's blessing.But Mr Webster did not even pretend to look at the thing in that light.He scorned to make use of the worldly man's "Oh, of course, of course,"when that idea was sometimes suggested to him by Christian friends. Onthe contrary, he boldly and coldly asserted his belief that "God, ifthere was a God at all, did not interfere in such matters, and that forhis part he would be quite satisfied to let anybody else who wanted ithave the blessing if he only got the money." And so it pleased God togive John Webster much money without a blessing.
The immediate result was that he fell in love with it, and, followingthe natural laws attached to that vehement passion, he hugged it to hisbosom, became blind to everything else, and gave himself entirely up toit with a self-denying devotion that robbed him of much of his naturalrest, of nearly all his graces, and most of his happiness--leaving himwith no hope in this world, save that of increasing his stores of money,and with no hope for the world to come at all.
The abode of Mr Webster's soul was a dingy little office with dirtylittle windows, a miserable little fireplace, and filthy little chairsand tables--all which were quite in keeping with the little occupant ofthe place. The abode of his body was a palatial residence in thesuburbs of the city. Although Mr Webster's soul was little, his bodywas large--much too large indeed for the jewel which it enshrined, andwhich was so terribly knocked about inside its large casket that itsusual position was awry, and it never managed to become upright by anychance whatever.
To the former abode Mr Webster went, body and soul, one dark Novembermorning. Having seated himself before his desk, he threw himself backin his chair and began to open his letters--gazing with a placid smile,as he did so, at the portrait of his deceased wife's father--a verywealthy old gentleman--which hung over the fireplace.
We omitted to mention, by the way, that Mr Webster had once beenmarried. This trifling little event of his life occurred when he wasabout forty-eight years of age, and was a mercantile transaction of anextremely successful kind, inasmuch as it had brought him, afterdeducting lawyers' fees, stamps, duties, lost time in courtship,wedding-tour expenses, doctor's fees, deathbed expenses, etcetera, aclear profit of sixty thousand pounds. To be sure there were also theadditional expenses of four years of married life, and the permanentboard, lodging, and education of a little daughter; but, all thingsconsidered, these were scarcely worth speaking of; and in regard to thedaughter--Annie by name--she would in time become a marketablecommodity, which might, if judiciously disposed of, turn in aconsiderable profit, besides being, before she was sold, a usefulmachine for sewing on buttons, making tea, reading the papers aloud,fetching hats and sticks and slippers, etcetera. There had, however,been a slight drawback--a sort of temporary loss--on this concern atfirst, for the piece of goods became damaged, owing to her mother'sdeath having weighed heavily on a sensitive and loving spirit, whichfound no comfort or sympathy at home, save in the devoted affection ofan old nurse named Niven. When Annie reached the age of six years, thedoctors ordered change of air, and recommended a voyage to the WestIndies. Their advice was followed. Nothing was easier. Mr Websterhad many ships on the sea. These were of two classes. The first classconsisted of good, new, well found and manned ships, with valuablecargoes on board which were anxiously watched and longed for; the secondclass comprised those which were old, worn-out, and unseaworthy, andwhich, being insured beyond their value, might go to the bottom whenthey pleased.
One of the best of the first class was selected--the _Water Lily_, A1 onLloyd's--and in it Annie, with her nurse, was sent to sea for thebenefit of her health. The parting was a somewhat important event inMr Webster's life, for it convinced him, to his own surprise, that hispower to love a human being was not yet utterly gone! Annie's armsclasped convulsively round his neck at the moment of parting--hersobbing "Good-bye, darling papa," had stirred depths which had lainunmoved almost from the days of early manhood. But the memory of thispassed away as soon as he turned again to gaze upon the lovedcountenance of his yellow mistress.
The voyage did Annie much good. The short residence in Demerara, whilethe vessel was discharging cargo and reloading, wrought wonders, and aletter, forwarded by a ship that sailed a short time after their arrivalin "foreign parts," told Mr Webster that he might expect to see hisdaughter home again, sound and well, in a month or two at the farthest.
But, to return from this digression to the abode of Mr Webster'ssoul:--
Having looked at the portrait of his late wife's father for a moment andsmiled, he glanced at the letter in his hand and frowned. Not becausehe was displeased, but because the writing was cramped and difficult toread. However, the merchant was accustomed to receive such letters fromseafaring men on many subjects of interest; he therefore broke the sealand set himself patiently to decipher it. Immediately his countenancebecame ghastly pale, then it flushed up and became pale again, while hecoughed and gasped once or twice, and started up and sat down abruptly.In fact Mr Webster exhibited all the signs of having received a severeshock, and an eye-witness might have safely concluded that he had justread the news of some great mercantile loss. So it was in one sense--but that was not the ordinary sense.
The letter in question was in the handwriting of a fussy officious"bumble" friend of the wealthy man, who dwelt in the town of Covelly.It ran as follows:
"My dear Sir,--I write in great haste, and in much perturbation, having just heard from my servant of the wreck of your ship, the _Water Lily_, in Covelly Bay. She does not seem to be quite sure, however, of the name, and says that the only man who has been rescued is scarcely able to speak, so that I do sincerely hope my domestic, who is a stupid old woman, may turn out to be mistaken. I am on the point of hasting down to the shore to ascertain the truth for myself, but am obliged to write to you this brief and unsatisfactory account of what I have heard, in order to save the post, which is just being closed. You shall hear from me again, of course, by the next mail.--I remain, my dear sir, in much anxiety, your most obedient humble servant,
"JOSEPH DOWLER."
It chanced that at the moment the above letter was handed to thepostmaster, and while the wax was being melted before the final sealingof the post-bag, a sailor lad, drenched to the skin and pantingvehemently, dashed into the office.
"Stop! stop!" he cried, "a letter--about the wreck--the _Water Lily_--tothe owners--not too late, I hope?"
"No, no, just in time. Here, in with it. There, all right. Now, Jim,off with 'ee."
The postman jumped on his vehicle, the whip cracked, and in anotherminute the Royal Mail was gone. Thus it came to pass that two epistlesreached Mr Webster that morning from Covelly. But in the extremeagitation of his spirit, he did not observe the other letter which layamong the usual morning mass that still awaited exa
mination. Afterreading the letter twice, and turning it over with trembling hands, asif he wished there were more in it, he pronounced a deep malediction onhis "humble" friend, and rang the bell for his confidential clerk, whowas an unusually meek, mild, and middle-aged little man, with a baldhead, a deprecatory expression of countenance, and a pen behind his ear.
"Mr Grinder," said Mr Webster, putting strong constraint on himself,and pretending to be quite composed, "a letter from Covelly informs methat it is feared the _Water Lily_ has been wrecked in--"
"The _Water Lily_, sir!" exclaimed Grinder, starting as if he hadreceived an electric shock.
"I spoke audibly, did I not?" said Mr Webster, turning with a sharplook on his confidential clerk.
"Ye-es, sir, but, I--Miss An--" The poor man could get no further, beingof a timid, nervous temperament, and Mr Webster, paying no attention tohis remark, was going on to say that he intended to go by the mail toCovelly without delay to ascertain the truth for himself, when he wasinterrupted by the confidential clerk who exclaimed in a burst ofagitation--
"There were _two_ letters, sir, from Covelly this morning--did youread--"
He stopped, for already his employer had sought for, found, and tornopen the second epistle, which was written in a fair, legible hand. Itran thus:--
"SIR,--My father, Captain Boyns, directs me to inform you that your daughter, Miss Annie, has been saved from the wreck of your brig, the _Water Lily_, which ran aground here this afternoon, and has become a total wreck. Your daughter's nurse and the crew have also been rescued by our new lifeboat, which is a noble craft, and, with God's blessing, will yet do good service on this coast. I have pleasure in adding, from myself, that it was my father who rescued your child. She fell into the sea when being passed from the wreck into the boat, and sank, but my father dived and brought her up in safety.
"Much of the brig's cargo has been lost, I regret to say, but a good deal of it has been washed ashore and saved in a damaged state. The captain says that defective compasses were the cause of the disaster. There is not time to give you a more particular account, as it is close upon post-time. Miss Annie sends you her kindest love, and bids me say she is none the worse of what she has passed through.--I am, sir, your obedient servant,
"HARRY BOYNS."
"Thank God!" exclaimed Mr Webster fervently. "Why, what are youstaring at, Mr Grinder?" he added, on observing that his confidentialservant was gazing at him with an expression of considerable surprise.
"Excuse me, sir," stammered the unfortunate man, "I--I--in fact--youhave so often told me that you did not believe in God that I fancied--I--wondered--"
"Really, Mr Grinder, I must beg of you to confine your remarks infuture entirely to matters of business. The so-called religiousobservations which you sometimes venture to make in my presence areextremely distasteful, I assure you. In explanation of what I said,however, I may tell you that this letter informs me of my daughter'ssafety, and I merely used the expression of satisfaction that is usualon such occasions. The phrase, as it is generally understood (except byweak men), commits me to nothing more. But enough of this. I find thatthe _Water Lily_ has indeed been lost. It was fully insured, Ibelieve?"
"Yes, sir, it was."
"Very well; report the matter without delay. I will go to Covellyto-night, and shall probably be back to-morrow."
Saying this, Mr Webster left the office, and, on the evening of thatday, found himself seated in Captain Boyns's parlour, with little Annieon his knee. Her pretty head was on his shoulder, her fair curlsstraggled over his chest, and her round little arms tightly encircledhis large body as far as they could reach, while she sobbed on his bosomand kissed him by turns.
This was quite a new experience in the life of the gold-lover. He haddeclined to submit to familiar caresses in former years, but on such anoccasion as the present, he felt that common propriety demanded thesacrifice of himself to some extent. He therefore allowed Annie to kisshim, and found the operation--performed as she did it--much morebearable than he had anticipated; and when Annie exclaimed with a burstof enthusiasm, "Oh, dear, dear papa, I did feel such a dreadful longingfor you when the waves were roaring round us!" and gave him anothersqueeze, he felt that the market price of the bundle of goods on hisknee was rising rapidly.
"Did you think you were going to be drowned, dear?" said Mr Websterwith the air of a man who does not know very well what to say.
"I'm not sure what I thought," replied Annie smiling through her tears."Oh, I was so frightened! You can't think, papa, how very dreadful itis to see the water boiling all round, and sometimes over you; and suchawful thumping of the ship, and then the masts breaking; but what Ifeared most was to see the faces of the sailors, they were so white, andthey looked as if they were afraid. Are men ever afraid, papa?"
"Sometimes, Annie; but a white face is not always the sign of fear--thatmay be caused by anxiety. Did any of them refuse to obey orders?"
"No; they were very obedient."
"Did any of them get into the lifeboat before you and nurse!"
"Oh, no; they all refused to move till we were put into it, and some ofthem ran to help us, and were very very kind?"
"Then you may be quite sure they were not afraid, however pale theirfaces were; but what of yourself, Annie--were you afraid?"
"Oh, dreadfully, and so was poor nurse; but once or twice I thought ofthe text that--that--you know who was so fond of,--`Call upon me in thetime of trouble and I will deliver thee,' so I prayed and felt a littlebetter. Then the lifeboat came, and, oh! how my heart did jump, for itseemed just like an answer to my prayer. I never felt any more fearafter that, except when I fell into the sea; but even then I was not sofrightened as I had been, for I felt somehow that I was sure to besaved, and I was right, you see, for dear Captain Boyns dived for me. Ilove Captain Boyns!" cried Annie, and here again she kissed her fatherand held him so tight that he felt quite angry with Mrs Niven, whoentered at the moment, and said, apologetically--
"Oh! la, sir, I didn't know as Miss Annie was with you. I only came tosay that everythink is ready, sir, for going 'ome."
"We don't intend to go home," said Mr Webster; "at least not for a dayor two. I find that Captain Boyns can let us stay here while I lookafter the wreck, so you can go and arrange with Mrs Boyns."
During the few days that Mr Webster remained at Coral Cottage (CaptainBoyns's residence), Mrs Niven found, in the quiet, sympathetic MrsBoyns, if not a congenial friend, at least a kind and sociable hostess,and Annie found, in Harry Boyns, a delightful companion, who neverwearied of taking her to the cliffs, the shore, and all the romanticplaces of the neighbourhood, while Mr Webster found the captain to bemost serviceable in connection with the wreck. One result of all thiswas that Mr Webster offered Captain Boyns the command of one of hislargest vessels, an offer which was gladly accepted, for the captainhad, at that time, been thrown out of employment by the failure of afirm, in the service of which he had spent the greater part of hisnautical career.
Another result was, that Mr Webster, at Annie's earnest solicitation,agreed to make Covelly his summer quarters next year, instead ofRamsgate, and Mrs Boyns agreed to lodge the family in Coral Cottage.
This having been all settled, Mr Webster asked Captain Boyns, on themorning of his departure for Liverpool, if he could do anything more forhim, for he felt that to him his daughter owed her life, and he wasanxious to serve him.
"If you could give my son Harry something to do, sir," said Boyns, "youwould oblige me very much. Harry is a smart fellow and a good seaman.He has been a short time in the coasting trade; perhaps--"
"Well, yes, I'll see to that," interrupted Mr Webster. "You shall hearfrom me again as to it."
Now the fact is that Mr Webster did not feel attracted by young Boyns,and he would willingly have had nothing to do with him, but being unableto refuse the request after having invited it, he ultimately gave him asituation in one of his coasting vessels which
plied between London andAberdeen.
About a year after that, Captain Boyns sailed in the _Warrior_, a largenew ship, for the Sandwich Islands and the Chinese seas.
True to his promise, Mr Webster spent the following summer with Annieand Mrs Boyns at Covelly, and young Boyns so managed matters that hegot his captain to send him down to Covelly to talk with his employer onbusiness. Of course, being there, it was natural that he should ask andobtain leave to spend a few days with his mother; and, of course, it wasquite as natural that, without either asking or obtaining leave, heshould spend the whole of these days in roaming about the shore andamong the cliffs with Annie Webster.
It would be absurd to say that these two fell in love, seeing that onewas only seven and the other fifteen; but there can be no doubt theyentertained some sort of regard for each other, of a very powerfulnature. The young sailor was wildly enthusiastic, well educated, manly,and good-looking--little wonder that Annie liked him. The child waswinning in her ways, simple, yet laughter-loving, and very earnest--lesswonderful that Harry liked _her_!
Another year fled, and again the Websters visited Covelly, and againHarry spent a few days with his mother; and although Mr Webster did notget the length of liking the youth, he at last came to the condition ofnot disliking him.
Year followed year, and still, each summer, Annie pressed her father toreturn to the old place, and he agreed, chiefly because it matteredlittle to him where he went. He regarded the summer trip in the lightof a penance to be paid for the sin of being a member of society and thehead of a household, and placed every minute so wasted to the debit ofthe profit and loss account in the mental ledger of his life's affairs,for it must not be supposed that Mr Webster's character was changed bythe events which followed the rescue of his child from the sea. True,he had been surprised out of his habitual hardness for a short time, buthe soon relapsed, if not quite back to the old position, at least sonear to it that the difference was not appreciable.
As time ran on, men begun to look for the return of the _Warrior_, butthat vessel did not make her appearance. Then they began to shake theirheads and to grow prophetic, while those who were most deeply interestedin the human beings who manned her became uneasy.
"Don't fret over it," said Harry one day to his mother, in a kind,earnest tone; "you may depend upon it father will turn up yet andsurprise us. He never lost a ship in his life, and he has sailed inworse ones than the _Warrior_ by a long way."
"It may be so," replied Mrs Boyns, sadly; "but it is a long, long timesince he went away. God's will be done. Whether He gives or takesaway, I shall try to bless His name."
At last Harry gave over attempting to comfort his mother, for he beganto fear that his father's ship was destined to be placed on the dark,dreary list of those of which it is sometimes said, with terriblebrevity, in the newspapers, "She sailed from port on such and such aday, and has not since been heard of."
In course of time Harry made one or two trips to the East Indies asfirst mate of one of Mr Webster's vessels, and ultimately obtained thecommand of one.
At last a day came when there appeared in a Welsh newspaper a paragraph,which ran thus:--"A Message from the Sea--A bottle, corked and sealed,was found by a woman on the beach, above Conway, North Wales. Insidewas a letter containing the following:--
"`Latitude 44, longitude 15, off Tierra del Fuego. If this should ever reach the shores of England, it will announce to friends at home the sad fate of the ship _Warrior_, which sailed from Liverpool on 13th February 18 hundred and something, bound for China. We have been boarded by pirates: we have been all locked into the cabin, with the assurance that we shall be made to walk the plank in half an hour. Our last act is to put this in a bottle and drop it overboard. Farewell, for this world, my beloved wife and son.'
"`DANIEL BOYNS, Captain.'"
This letter was forwarded to the owner, and by him was sent to poor MrsBoyns.
Alas! how many sailors' wives, in our sea-girt isle, have receivedsimilar "messages from the sea," and lived under the dark cloud ofnever-ending suspense--hoping against hope that the dear lost ones mightyet return!