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 {Page 40.
 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " An honest tale speeds best being plainly told." 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 Some years ago, Benjamin Bruce worked in a London 
 hat-box factory. But trade grew slack in his line after 
 the great International Exhibition of 1862, for Britons 
 pretty generally adopted the style of head coverings, as 
 well as the cut of the beards, of their continental visitors, 
 and the time-honoured Anglican tall hats were partially 
 superseded by foreign novelties, of various sorts and 
 shapes, some of which were not very becoming to British 
 faces. That change in the current taste or fashion was 
 a special misfortune to hat-box makers, for reasons 
 which I need not stop to explain. Bruce and other 
 steady workmen were put on short time in the factory, 
 which meant reduced wages, and the comforts in many 
 a humble home were sadly diminished. 
 
 Most persons know what worry is, though they cannot 
 define its dismal, creepy nature any more intelligibly 
 than they could describe the awakening, twinges of soft 
 corns or ear-ache. Some men, who are called "jolly 
 fellows," affect to scorn ordinary troubles, and will even 
 laugh at threatening crises which make their thoughtful 
 neighbours anxious, but there is not much confidence to 
 be placed in the courage or the counsel of such jokers, 
 if real distress should come. When Bruce had full work 
 at his trade he was contented and cheerful, but when his 
 
 B 
 
 -« m /T-v .— .
 
 2 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 hands were unoccupied 'for three or four days in a week, 
 he began to worry over it, and his whole system got out 
 of order, hke a wooden clock in a mouldy cellar. It 
 was not natural for him to see himself drifting down 
 the sluggish ebb of hard times into the vortex of poverty, 
 without being concerned about it ; and as his prospects 
 of better times got more beclouded from day to day, 
 he grew more dispirited, and life seemed to have become 
 a troublesome load to him. That abnormal condition 
 was rather puzzling to Bruce, for he had never even 
 dreamt of dyspepsia ; but when he grew experienced 
 enough to trace the cause mainly to the abatement of 
 daily labour, to which he had been long accustomed, the 
 remedy seemed still beyond his reach, for he could not 
 get full employment at his own handicraft, and to begin 
 anew to learn some other trade was an expedient which 
 did not seriously enter his mind. 
 
 Mr. Bruce, of whose subsequent history I have much 
 to tell, was about twenty-four years of ^ge. He had an 
 open, pleasing expression of face, intelligent looking 
 grey eyes, and an honest shaped head. In manner he 
 was retiring, except to those who gained his esteem and 
 confidence, when he was frank and unreserved, and his 
 kindness was overflowing. He was truthful and trust- 
 worthy, and his habits were very steady. He had a 
 tall, manly frame, which had never been weakened by 
 ill-health or fast living. The master, with whom he 
 learned his trade, was a strict man, and kept a watchful 
 eye to the moral conduct of his apprentices, and to his 
 other employes also as far as it was practicable. He 
 gave them a good example as well as useful precepts. 
 In his childhood, Ben — though not exactly a spoiled 
 boy — was a pet with his mother and grandmother, and 
 he was seldom out of their sight or influence, except in
 
 BEN'S MOTHER. 3 
 
 school hours. Whether that was the best sort of training 
 or a lad, who apparently would have to earn his living 
 in a workshop, I shall not now consider, but it is not 
 unlikely that overmuch petting or nursing tended to 
 increase his natural sensitiveness. Such soft treatment 
 has that effect sometimes on boys of a nervous temper- 
 ament ; and they sadly miss their home coddling when 
 they have to turn out into the world, amongst strangers. 
 Ben's mother was the only daughter of Widow Bruce, 
 who kept a small grocery shop at Hackney, one of the 
 eastern suburbs of London. Who his father was Ben 
 did not know. He once, with a natural childish curiosity, 
 asked "if he had a daddy, like Jemmy Drew .^ " but his 
 grandmother solemnly warned him not to ask such a 
 question again. His mother worked early and late with 
 her needle, and kept him more genteelly clad than most 
 of the boys who went to the parochial school with him, 
 and she was otherwise tenderly careful of him. When 
 he was about nine years of age his mother died, 
 which was a sad bereavement for him. According to 
 the parish doctor's report her death was caused by 
 disease of the heart ; but some of the neighbours said 
 she had worked and fretted herself to death, for she was 
 never seen outside of her mother's house except on 
 Sunday evenings when going i"^ Or returnirg from_ 
 church, and they did not think she got fresh air enough 
 to keep life in a tame pigeon. But it is not often that 
 a poor girl can wholly please critical neighbours, whether 
 she roams abroad or stays indoors. Ben continued to 
 live with his grandmother, who kept him at school till 
 he was fourteen years of age, and then she bound him 
 apprentice to a hat-box maker. She chose that humble 
 trade for him because it was light, dry work ; but Ben 
 never had a fancy for it ; nevertheless, he was always
 
 4 IN 7HE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 willing to please his grandmother, or to try to do so. 
 After his term of apprenticeship expired he earned 
 wages enough to keep himself comfortably, and to help 
 his grandmother. But trade fell off, from causes before 
 alluded to, and Ben was put upon less than half time at 
 the factory, an event that he regarded as the beginning 
 of his real troubles. 
 
 Next door to Grandmother Bruce lived Mrs. Timms, 
 who had a pretty rosy-faced daughter, named Jenny, 
 Ben had begun to fancy that he would like to have a 
 wife and a home of his own — a notion common enough 
 to spirited young men everywhere — and he thought that 
 Jenny was the most suitable girl he had ever seen. He 
 had no idea of marrying until his circumstances im- 
 proved ; but as Jenny was an attractive girl, he feared 
 she might get engaged to some less tardy lover if he 
 did not speak up in time. His acquaintance with her 
 had been only of a neighbourly kind, still he had some 
 season to hope that she would receive his addresses 
 with favour, for signs in that way are easily understood. 
 Before making love to Miss Jenny, however, he thought 
 it was only right to acquaint his grandmother, and he 
 did so one evening without a foreboding of the strong 
 opposition the dear old lady would show to his tender 
 project But lie soon found that she was as decidedly 
 averse to it as if she were certain he was going to ruin 
 himself outright, and she gave her reasons for her oppo- 
 sition in language very emphatic, if it was not convincing 
 to her love-smitten grandson. She ended her protest 
 by declaring that she would rather see him laid beside 
 his poor mother in Hackney churchyard, than see him 
 married into the Timms family. 
 
 " Stay, dear grandmother ! " softly interposed Ben, 
 who saw that the kind old kidy was getting almost
 
 BEN'S LOVE AFFAIR. 5 
 
 hysterical. " Pray don't distress j'^ourself about the 
 affair. You never yet knew me to do anything that 
 you disapproved of. I have not made love to Jenny, nor 
 will I do so as you so much object. We will say no 
 more about it." 
 
 That prompt concession soon smoothed down grand- 
 mother's ruffled spirit. She said he was a dutiful boy, 
 as he always had been, and he deserved all the care that 
 she had bestowed on him from his infancy. They 
 parted at bed-time, with their usual embraces and good 
 wishes. But though Ben had promised his grand- 
 mother to say no more about his love affair, he could 
 not help thinking of it, and feeling too that her objec- 
 tion to his settling in life was unreasonable. He judged 
 that her aversion to Jenny Timms arose from her 
 excessive fondness for him, which would not suffer any 
 one to share his affection with her, and he thought she 
 would have shown the same jealous temper if he were 
 to propose to any other girl in London or elsewhere. 
 While arguing the case, his grandmother had incautiously 
 asked him the pointed question, " How he meant to 
 support a wife in a comfortable home, if he was not able 
 to keep himself .-* " Those words galled him on a tender 
 spot, and reminded him also that for six weeks past he 
 had been encroaching on his grandmother's scanty 
 means. It was true enough that he was not able to 
 keep himself, so it was almost wicked presumption in 
 him even to sigh for a wife. He lay for several hours 
 tossing about in sleepless anxiety, and wishing he could 
 see some honest way of earning a livelihood, although 
 it were mere labourer's work of the hardest kind. 
 
 The following morning after breakfast, Ben kissed his 
 grandmother before going out, and away he went in a 
 very depressed mood. He knew there was no work
 
 6 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 for him at the hat-box factory that week, so he strolled 
 down to the London Docks hophig he might get a job 
 of some sort to earn a few shillings. Soon after enter- 
 ing the dock gates, he saw a large ship being warped 
 towards the outer basin, and the cheerful songs of the 
 sailors, while walking round the capstan, seemed to 
 operate like a charm on his troubled spirits, for he was 
 fond of singing. He thought sailors must be the most 
 enviable men in the world, for they were always merry 
 or lively, as he had seen them (except when they were 
 tipsy), and when once hired on board ship they could 
 have no anxieties about being out of work for awhile. 
 He did not think of the risks seamen always run of 
 losing their ship by wreck or fire or collision, or other 
 causes, and being suddenly thrown out of em.ployment — 
 perhaps on a foreign shore. His moody heart per- 
 suaded him that there was no class of men so poorly 
 off as hat-box makers, and that it would be an advantage 
 to him to change his occupation to any other honest 
 one. All at once an idea struck him that it would be 
 pleasant to live in a forecastle with a lot of shipmates, 
 who were always singing or joking or telling funny 
 stories, and he would be earning an honest livelihood 
 without being a clog to his poor grandmother. He 
 was weary of an idle life, and he would go to sea. 
 Without taking even ten minutes to consider over his 
 sudden whim, he climbed up the gangway of the ship, 
 which was then close alongside the dock wall. It was 
 the first time his feet had ever trodden a deck, and he 
 felt a sort of bird-like freedom, delightfully new to him, 
 stirring up his heart. He seemed to forget all his 
 troubles at once, and fancied he was going to sail away 
 to lands where poverty was never seen, and where there 
 was a living for every able worker.
 
 '^ SHILLING A MONTH HAND.'' 7 
 
 The captain of the ship was amused at Ben's earnest 
 desire to emigrate ; and after hearing a short account of 
 his impoverished condition, he said, it was hard for a 
 young man who was wiUing to work not to be able to 
 find a job, and if he Hked he might go in the ship for 
 the voyage as a "shilling a month hand "; and no doubt 
 he would find work enough of some kind after he got 
 ashore in Sydney, if he turned out to be steady and 
 active. He would have to help the butcher on board 
 with the live stock, and make himself generally handy, 
 Ben promised to do any work he was capable of doing, 
 and he thanked the captain for giving him a berth. He 
 was then told to be on board the ship with his traps 
 before three o'clock in the afternoon, at which time it 
 was high water, and the ship would leave the outer 
 basin, 
 
 Ben hastened homeward in an excited state, for he 
 dreaded a scene with his grandmother, who he knew 
 would strongly object to his leaving her. He could 
 hardly realize the fact that he had actually engaged to 
 go abroad, without any preconsideration of the im- 
 portant step. 
 
 " Is it a solid fact, or am I dreaming about it ? " 
 soliloquised Ben, and he slackened his pace for a minute, 
 as if to collect his thoughts. " Sure enough it is all true. 
 I should never have dreamt of going to sea, all the way 
 to Australia. What if I should make a fortune at the 
 goldfields } Ha, ha ! that would be nice ! Grand- 
 mother would forgive me for running away in this cruel 
 way, if I were to come back a rich man ; and then, of 
 course, I might marry any girl I had a fancy for. 
 Hundreds of young fellows have been lucky in Australia, 
 have mounted to the truck of fortune's greasy mast, and 
 I'll try my luck there,"
 
 8 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 On Ben's arrival at home, he found that his grand- 
 mother had gone to market, and a Httle girl was left 
 in charge of the shop. He felt glad to be spared the 
 tearful scene he had anticipated, though he was loth to 
 leave without saying good-bye to his dear old relative. 
 He was about to write a few lines to her, to tell her 
 that he was off to seek his fortune in Australia, but he 
 reflected, that if he did so she would certainly take 
 means to stop him from going ; so he went to his room 
 and packed up all his wearing apparel, which he could 
 easily carry under his arm, and then left the house 
 without leaving any message whatever. All the money 
 he possessed was seven shillings, which he placed on 
 the table in his bedroom. On his way to the dock he 
 bartered his silver watch for a mattress and a pair ot 
 blankets, and before the time specified by the captain, 
 he was on board the ship Bluejacket, which soon after- 
 wards was towed out of dock, and that night she came 
 to an anchor off Gravcsend. 
 
 Great was the consternation of Mrs. Bruce on learning 
 from her little servant of Ben's hasty departure. Such 
 an unprecedented act of rashness might well fill her 
 mind with wonder and dismay. Her concern increased 
 as her inquiries for the absentee were ineffectual to 
 trace his whereabouts, and the poor old lady was 
 inconsolable. She had no doubt that it was purely on 
 account of her opposition to his matrimonial wishes 
 that he had run away ; and she confessed to her kind 
 friend, the city missionary, that she had sadly erred in 
 seeking to control the natural inclination of her grand- 
 son, or of treating him as a boy, when he was a man of 
 full growth. She ought to have known better, but she 
 liud no idea that he was so madly in love with that wax 
 dolly of a girl next door.
 
 BEN'S HASTY DEPARTURE. 9 
 
 Gladly would the sorrow-stricken widow have yielded 
 to Ben's wishes if he would but return ; but there was 
 no possibility of communicating to him her altered 
 views, for, alas ! he was gone, and she knew not whither ! 
 Anxiety beclouded her days, and many of her nights 
 were passed in sleepless grief. Her shop was left almost 
 in sole charge of the little girl aforesaid, who ate more 
 than all the profits of the gingerbread and sweetmeat 
 departments.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Adieu ! adieu ! my native shore 
 Fades o'er Ihc waters blue." 
 
 — Bvi'on. 
 
 In starting off to sea, young Bruce had acted on a 
 sudden impulse; but before the ship got into bkie water 
 his awakened judgment condemned the hasty move- 
 ment, and he was grieved for the anxiety he knew his 
 kind old grandmother would feel at his mysterious ab- 
 sence. If a life-size portrait could have been taken of 
 him on his second night at sea, as he sat on the fore- 
 castle moodily gazing at the foam which curled from 
 the ship's bows, his eyes swollen from want of sleep, 
 and his sea-sick complexion as tawny as an old saddle, 
 he miirht have served as a melancholy warning to lads 
 in freneral who were of a runaway disposition. He was 
 at a loss to account for the infatuation that had so 
 strangely possessed him, and he was almost bewildered 
 at his own rashness, as well as at his sad neglect of 
 filial duty to the only relative he had in the world. To 
 run away from home was an idea that had never before 
 entered his brain for a moment, and sorry enough he 
 was that he had allowed such a fugitive whim to over- 
 rule his conscience. 
 
 But contrition came too late for any practical end, as 
 it usually does in sucli cases ; there was no back door 
 t(j tlie Bluejacket, and no running away from the sound 
 of the boatswain's whistle or the chief mate's scolding
 
 ON BOARD THE ''BLUEJACKET:' il 
 
 voice ; there he was, and whatever his sufferings were, 
 he knew the ship would not be put back for his relief. 
 He soon decided that it was his best policy to bear his 
 lot patiently and without complaining, for there was not 
 one of the crew who showed evidence of sympathy with 
 anything of a tender nature. He sometimes thought 
 of Jenny Timms on his lonely night watches, and won- 
 dered what she said about his sudden flight ; but as 
 love had not thoroughly taken root in his breast, his 
 musings of her were not of a distressing character. 
 Memory did, no doubt, present her pretty face to his 
 fancy's vision at times, and he gazed at it longingly — 
 that was only natural, mortal man cannot help occa- 
 sional heart-yearnings of that sort ; but Ben did not 
 fret after her, nor did he tell any one that he had been 
 crossed in love, as some soft-headed young fellows have 
 been known to do in such circumstances for the sake of 
 being pitied. 
 
 A description of an ordinary sea voyage would 
 scarcely be even glanced at by book readers now-a-days, 
 so I shall not give much of Ben's experience on board 
 the Bluejacket. The officers considered him a handy sort 
 of lad for odd jobs about the deck, but when he was first 
 ordered aloft his hands were only useful to himself in 
 holding on for his life. He soon grew more expert, 
 however, and his willingness to work made the crew 
 look good-naturedly at his deficiencies in nautical know- 
 ledge. After about an average passage, he landed in 
 Sydney with three months' wages in his pocket, or three 
 shillings, a slender sum for a man to possess in a 
 strange land ; but some men who have risen to wealth 
 and honour in Australia began their career with so 
 small a capital. 
 
 Ben soon found that his trade was of no use to him
 
 12 IN THE DEPTHS OB THE SEA. 
 
 in Sydney. He might as well have been a skate-maker, 
 or so he was jocosely told by a hatter, to whom he ap- 
 plied for work, and who advised him to try some fresh 
 way of earning a living, for empty hat-boxes were as 
 plentiful in the colony as old. boots or empty blacking- 
 bottles. His first day in Sydney was not a merry 
 one, for even the longed-for exercise of a steady walk 
 on dry land, after three months' staggering about on 
 shipboard, did not interest him enough to make him 
 forget the fact that he had served several years to learn 
 a trade which was of no present use to him, and he felt 
 as perplexed as a traveller who had lost his way in the 
 bush. Towards evening he returned to the Bluejacket, 
 and got permission to sleep in the forecastle. He felt 
 half inclined to ask the captain to let him work his 
 passage back to London ; but the next morning, being 
 in rather better spirits, he pluckily resolved that he 
 would never go home again poorer than he was when 
 became away. He went on shore to seek for work, 
 and then he found that he had erred in omitting to 
 bring testimonials of good character with him, which 
 he might easily have got from his old master, and from 
 the minister of Hackney Church. He replied to two 
 advertisements for a " steady man as light porter," but 
 in each case he was objected to on account of his not 
 having certificates of his honesty and sobriety. 
 
 As the day advanced Ben grew increasingly anxious 
 about his prospects. He did not like to go on board 
 the Dluejackct again at meal-times, lest he should be 
 called a sponger, so he bought a few biscuits and dined 
 as he strolled along, looking out for a job, and wonder- 
 ing how long it was possible for him to live on such a 
 light diet. Presently he made up his mind to tramp to 
 the Tambaroora gold diggings, where he knew that
 
 "A GOOD', SAFE VESSEL r' 13 
 
 several runaway sailors of the Bluejacket had gone. He 
 was returning to the ship to get his clothes, when, on 
 passing a seamen's outfitting shop in Lower George 
 Street, he saw. chalked on a board at the doorway, 
 " Cook wanted for the schooner Wolf. Apply within." 
 
 " I'll have a try for that berth," muttered Ben, as he 
 crossed the street. "If I am lucky enough to get it I 
 shall have a bunk to lie down in at night and a deck 
 over my head, and if I am cook of the ship it will be my 
 own fault if I go to bed hungry. I learnt a little about 
 plain cookery on board the Bluejacket, and I daresay 
 they arc not over-particular in a schooner, for it isn't 
 likely they'll carry many saloon passengers. Anyway 
 this is the first berth that seems to open up, and I'll try 
 for it. If I don't get it, I'll be off to the diggings, and 
 try my luck there." 
 
 On making application at the shop he was told to go 
 on board the vessel and see the captain, so he walked to 
 the Grafton Wharf and went on board the Wolf. The 
 captain was on shore, so Ben went forward, and soon 
 got into conversation with some of the crew, from whom 
 he learned that the vessel was going to Newcastle, to 
 load coal for Wellington, New Zealand ; that the ballast 
 was on board, and the hands were all shipped except the 
 cook, and they were ready to sail with the first slant of 
 wind. 
 
 " Is this a good safe vessel } " asked Ben with com- 
 mon-sense caution, but which was mistaken for natural 
 simplicity. 
 
 " Ay, she's all right, shipmate, so long as she keeps 
 one end of her above water," replied the man to whom 
 the question was put. 
 
 " She's safe enough for fellows who are born to be 
 hanged," said another sailor, who was sitting beside the
 
 14 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 grindstone sharpening his knife. "I was in her the Last 
 voyage, and she didn't want pumping much more than 
 an hour in a watch." 
 
 " More than an hour in a watch, ch ! " exclaimed Ben, 
 with a look of awful astonishment. "And are you 
 going in her again ? " 
 
 " I am so, governor ; unless you can find me a better 
 ship and help me to bolt away clear from this one. You 
 are a fresh hand in this port, I guess ? A Johnny-cum- 
 lately, as the natives here call new chums." 
 
 "Yes, I have just arrived here in the Bluejacket." 
 
 "Then you'll find a stinging difference if you arc 
 going to sea with us. The Bluejacket's galley is a 
 smarter place than our captain's cabin abaft, and you 
 should keep to your ship if }-ou have half a chance. 
 I'd sooner be the Bluejacket's cook than be chief mate 
 in this old box." 
 
 "I only joined her in London for the voyage to Syd- 
 ney, as a shilling a month hand, so I can't keep to her 
 if I would." 
 
 " Oh that's it,' is it ? I thought you didn't look like a 
 fool. Yonder is our captain coming on board if you 
 want to see him." 
 
 Ben hesitated for a minute or two. lie was by no 
 means satisfied with the character of the vessel ; still he 
 argued with himself, " If those sailors and the captain 
 and mates are not afraid to go in her, I don't see why I 
 .should be. I must earn my living in some way or other, 
 and I can't die before my time." Such specious argu- 
 ments as those have been used a thousand times by 
 men who have risked their lives in rotten ships. Ikn 
 then walked aft to the^ captain, and touching his cap, 
 said he had come to offer himself as cook for the voyage. 
 
 " What ship did you sail in last ? "
 
 "A COOK'S mate:' 15 
 
 " The Bluejacket, from London, sir." 
 
 " I don't want a first-class cook on board my craft." 
 
 " I was only cook's mate occasionally on board the 
 Bluejacket, sir," urged Ben. "I wish you would try me, 
 captain." 
 
 " What wages do you want } " 
 
 "Any wages you like to give me, sir. I want a berth 
 of some sort, for I have neither friends nor home in this 
 part of the world, nor much money in my pocket. If 
 you ship me I will do my best to please you." 
 
 " Well, you can't say fairer than that, my lad. Have 
 you got your discharge from the Bluejacket ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, here' it is." 
 
 The captain looked at it, and after a few minutes' 
 talk with his chief mate, he told Ben he might go the 
 voyage in the IVol/at ^3 a month ; and he was to be at 
 the shipping-master's office at three o'clock that after- 
 noon. Ben was overjoyed at his good fortune; he 
 touched his cap again, and thanked the captain, and 
 then he returned to the forecastle and told the sailors 
 that he had shipped as cook. 
 
 "Then I hope you know how to boil a plum duff 
 better than our last doctor did, or your mother will 
 never see you again after the ship gets under way." At 
 the same time the speaker made a motion significant of 
 throwing something overboard. Ben had had too much 
 experience of sailors' peculiar jocoseness, when on board 
 the Bluejacket, to be scared by these homicidal hints ; 
 moreover, he was in an exultant mood at havincr eot 
 employment, so he laughingly replied, that he could 
 cook a plum duff or a pot of skouse with the second 
 best man that ever entered a collier's caboose, if he 
 wasn't a French professor of cookery. 
 
 "You arc all the go then, shipmate. When are you
 
 i6 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 going to bring your dunnage on board?'' Ben told 
 him that he had promised the captain to be on board 
 in time to get his tea ready. . 
 
 " All right, doctor. There's a bucketful of red bream 
 under the windlass ; you had better be in time to cook 
 the lot for our supper ; and take care you don't choke 
 us all with scales." 
 
 " If you find half a scale when I have dished up, you 
 may heave it at my head," said Ben, whereupon his 
 shipmates laughed and said he would do for them. 
 
 " And now will one of you nice-looking seamen show 
 me which is to be my berth .?" added Ben, in the same 
 lively strain that seemed to have pleased the sailors, 
 like fiddling. 
 
 "Ay, ay, shipmate ; come this way," replied the man 
 who had last spoken, and whose name was Frank ; at 
 the same time he dived down the forecastle scuttle. 
 " That is your bunk up in the forepeak, starboard side. 
 A snug crib it is too, and no danger of your rolling out 
 in heavy weather. But you must mind what you arc 
 about with your fingers and toes, or you'll soon be 
 spoiled for your cooking business. The voyage before 
 last we shipped a Dutchman at Hokitiki, for the run 
 back to Sydney. He slept in that same bunk ; and one 
 night, when the ship was knocking about in a breeze, 
 he couldn't sleep, I suppose, so to amuse himself he 
 goes feeling about for cockroaches and other vermin^ 
 which swarm up in that end of the ship. He foolishly 
 put his hand into a gap between the timbers to catch 
 something, and the next roll the ship gave his fingers 
 were jammed as flat as a seal's flipper. Boor fellow ! he 
 wasn't a sailor man you may be sure, at any rate, he 
 wasn't used to sailing in an old collier, or he would 
 have known belter than to poke his lingers between her
 
 A SAILOR MUSTN'l BE AFRAID. 17 
 
 timbers in a seaway, for they nip like tigers. I tell 
 you that bit of a yarn just to caution you, if you are 
 inclined to be fidgety in bed." 
 
 " Thank you for the hint. I shall look out for my 
 fingers and toes. But this must be a very old vessel to 
 work in that dangerous way." 
 
 " Not much more than a dozen years old ; but she is 
 a slop-built concern, all soft wood and iron fastenings ; 
 and every tree-nail in her is as tender as a boiled 
 parsnip. She doesn't look amiss as she is lying at the 
 wharf, but when she gets into bad weather she works 
 like an old coach, and then ' pump away, boys ' is the 
 command, and to shirk it is sudden death by drowning. 
 I have told you the character of the ship, as you asked 
 me for it, but I don't want to scare you off, for I think 
 you will be just the very man to suit us for a cook." 
 
 " How is it that you are not afraid to sail in the 
 ship .'' " asked Ben. 
 
 " A sailor mustn't be afraid of anything unless he is 
 content to starve. I can't die more than once, you 
 know." 
 
 " That is true enough, but it is natural to wish to live 
 as long as you can, and it isn't a pleasant prospect 
 either to be drowned or to be worked to death." 
 
 " Well, it's happy-go-lucky with me, shipmate. I 
 would sooner sail in a stanch ship, but I cannot always 
 pick and choose, because I have a bad habit of spreeing 
 away all my money when I come off a voyage, and 
 then I am bound to go to sea again to get rations, aiid 
 I take the first ship I can get." 
 
 " I would certainly try to get a sound ship, if I knew 
 a good one from a bad one as well as you do," remarked 
 Ben. 
 
 " There must be hands to man old ' clumbungs ' as
 
 1 8 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 well as crack ships, you know, else how could they go 
 to sea?" replied Frank, with a peculiar shrug. "]\Iy life 
 isn't worth more than another man's — not so much as 
 some fellow who has a wife or a sweetheart to fret after 
 him." 
 
 Ben felt inclined to go aft and tell the captain that 
 he wouldn't ship in the Wolf, but when he reflected on 
 the poor condition of his pockets, he changed his mind 
 again and resolved . to try his luck for one voyage. 
 That afternoon he went on board with his scanty outfit, 
 and at midnight the JVo//wa.s scudding along before a 
 southerly wind, on her passage to Newcastle.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " From bounding billows, first in motion where the distant whirl- 
 winds rise, 
 To the tempest-troubled ocean, where the seas contend with 
 skies." 
 
 — Dibdin. 
 
 Ben Bruce was perhaps as well qualified for the duties 
 he had engaged to perform on board the Wolf^ as many 
 other men are who have suddenly stepped into offices of 
 greater responsibility. He was certainly not a trained 
 cook, but he had had a little experience in the galley 
 on board the Bluejacket, and he was naturally expert 
 or handy ; moreover he had pretty strong confidence 
 in himself, which is usually helpful- to a man in any 
 condition of life, if it does not swell into self-conceit. 
 
 The chief officer of the Bluejacket had not been very 
 patient at Ben's ignorance of nautical operations in the 
 first part of the voyage, and he used to threaten various 
 processes, new to Ben, in order to incite him to look 
 more sailor-like. The poor fellow had not time enough, 
 neither had he the means, to procure a complete outfit 
 before sailing from London, and so far as his dress 
 helped him he looked as little like a sailor as he did 
 like a soldier. Plis only pair of boots, which were 
 studded with hob-nails, were a great annoyance to the 
 chief mate, who said they marked the decks like horses' 
 hoofs. It is the way of the world to side with the strong 
 against the weak, and for a time Ben was a mark for the 
 
 19
 
 20 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 waggery and practical jokes of the sailors, which were 
 sometimes more galling to him than the severity of the 
 mate. He discarded the objectionable boots and went 
 barefooted, but even that submissive spirit was not 
 kindly appreciated, and the nickname of " Clinker " 
 clung to him throughout the voyage. 
 
 Poor indeed is the man who cannot find 07ie friend in 
 a civilized community. Ben was not so badly off as 
 that, for the cook showed sympathy of a substantial 
 kind, which is always more useful than bare pity. He 
 was strong in patronage in his own limited sphere ; a 
 fact which none of the sailors doubted, though they did 
 not all come in for a share of it. By right of common 
 custom, all hands might join in the scramble for tit-bits 
 when the soiled plate baskets were carried from the 
 cabin to the galley, after dinner, but the higher privilege 
 of scraping out the saucepans could only be awarded to 
 a favoured few, whom the cook was pleased to nomin- 
 ate. Ben was a special favourite in that way, and it was 
 more than once remarked by envious tars that he fared 
 as well as the skipper himself Cooks sometimes fare 
 even better than their masters or mistresses — and who 
 can prevent them from doing so if their gustatory pro- 
 pensities are stronger than their conscientious principles? 
 In return for the cook's kindness, Ben was always will- 
 ing to do odd jobs in the galley, and thus he picked up 
 culinary knowledge enough to warrant him in taking 
 charge of the caboose on board the Wolf, as I have 
 explained. 
 
 "Hallo there, up in the forcpeak ! Are you going 
 to lie in your bunk till somebody carries your breakfast 
 to you.-' Heave out, doctor, and get the coffee kettle 
 under way." That was the gruff but good-natured sum- 
 mons of his shipmate, Frank, on the morning after the
 
 BENS LUXURIES. 21 
 
 Wolf left Sydney, Ben opened his eyes, and without 
 staying to give one lazy roll over, he turned out of bed 
 and dressed himself, and then went on deck to his duty. 
 
 It was grey dawn, and the vessel was rolling along 
 before a fresh gale. Bird Island bore about north-west, 
 distant seven miles. Ben lighted the fire in his caboose 
 and put the kettle on, and then he got some fresh water 
 in a bucket and washed his hands and face, a wholesome 
 operation which some sea cooks are apt to slight. " I 
 don't see the crew pumping ship," muttered Ben to him- 
 self, while he combed his hair smooth, " and there is not 
 even the sign of a spray coming on deck. This cannot 
 be a bad vessel after all, and I half fancy those sailors 
 were joking, or only trying if they could frighten me, 
 when they said she was under water half her time when 
 at sea. I am glad they did not scare me away from the 
 ship." His confidence in his cookery soon increased as 
 pleasantly as his belief in the seaworthiness of the Wolf; 
 for the sailors at breakfast-time agreed, in characteristic 
 terms, that the beefsteaks and onions were done to per- 
 fection, and that the fried potatoes were luxuries which 
 no other cook on board the Wolf had ever provided, 
 because he grudged to use a little dripping, or slush as 
 it is called, and which cooks usually claim as a perquisite. 
 
 Every man likes his doings to be appreciated. The 
 feeling varies in degree according to the development 
 of approbativeness, but it is pretty much the same in 
 character whether it exists in the heart or brain of a sea 
 cook or a statesman. There never was a newly inspired 
 poet who did not feel a sort of mild gladness when told 
 that his last published verses were full of merit ; and the 
 reverend pastor is not up to the happy mark if he does 
 not feel his heart glow with grateful joy at hearing even 
 the humblest member of his flock say that he got good
 
 22 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 under last Sunday's sermon. The most prosy old sea 
 captain afloat would be secretly pleased to hear his ship 
 called the smartest clipper in the port, and the cleverest 
 cook that ever handled spit or skewer would not be 
 above the soothing influence of wholesome encomium. 
 Such is life ! Ben considered that his first performance 
 in the caboose was a success, inasmuch as the sailors 
 lauded it and the captain and mate did not complain of 
 it, and he was highly gratified. About mid-day the 
 Wolf dropped anchor in Newcastle harbour, and Ben 
 might have been seen stirring up the fire under his 
 coppers to cook the dinner, and singing merrily, " A Life 
 on the Ocean Wave ! " 
 
 The next day the Wolf took in a cargo of coal up to 
 her hatches in less than half the time that it had taken 
 the crew to discharge thirty tons of ballast : such is the 
 facility now for shipping the coal which is dug out of 
 the many hills and plains about Newcastle, and which 
 has made that one of the busiest ports in New South 
 Wales. Before the crew had time to clear up the 
 decks, the Wolf\\2,s towed to sea, and began her voyage 
 with a fair wind and fine weather. 
 
 For three days all went on as favourably as could be 
 wished, and Ben, who but rarely suffered from sea-sick- 
 ness, felt almost as much at home in his caboose as if he 
 were in Mr. Chippet's hat-box factory at Bethnal Green. 
 ]kit on the fourth day out there was a change in the 
 weather. A south-east breeze sprang up, which soon 
 freshened into a gale, and then for the first time Ben 
 could realize the poetical nature of Frank's statement, 
 that the Wolf was as lively as a diving-bell when she 
 was deeply loaded. In his innocence Ben had first judged 
 the weatherly qualities of the vessel when she was run- 
 ning under easy sail, in light ballast trim ; but her
 
 THE " irOLF" IN A GALE. 23 
 
 behaviour was strikingly different when she was over- 
 laden with dead-weight cargo, and contending against a 
 gale of wind and a head sea. She plunged and rolled 
 to a dangerous degree, and waves occasionally broke on 
 board, which set Ben's saucepans afloat, and made him 
 shudder for the fate of his caboose and his connection 
 with it. 
 
 Men with more pretensions to wisdom than Ben had, 
 have been astray in their judgment in matters of greater 
 moment than the qualities of a vessel. It has often 
 happened, even in select society, that young men have 
 formed exalted opinions of women, whom they have 
 chosen for life partners, when they have been in holiday 
 trim, or " flying light," as sailors say, and have after- 
 wards found, to their grief, that the objects of their 
 loving choice were only fit for the fair weather of 
 prosperity, and unable to face the adverse breezes of 
 misfortune either with courage or patient endurance. 
 
 The gale increased, and' the ship laboured so heavily 
 that it was necessary to lighten her by throwing part of 
 her cargo overboard, which was done with much diffi- 
 culty, and at the risk of being swamped if a heavy sea 
 broke on board while the hatches were off. Ben was 
 seized with shuddering awe every time he looked out of 
 his galley door at the huge waves, which threatened to 
 roll on board and smash the groaning Wolf into splin- 
 ters ; but he manfully stuck to his post of duty. The 
 crew complained that their pea-soup was weakened 
 with sea water ; still they could not reasonably blame 
 the cook because a spray now and then dashed over 
 the tops of his coppers, and it was a matter for wonder 
 to them that he managed to keep his fire alight. Glad 
 enough was he when he could shut up his galley for the 
 night, and go below to take off his wet clothes and go
 
 24 /iV THE DEPTHS OF 1 HE SEA. 
 
 to bed. When in his berth he felt himself free from 
 the risk of being washed overboard, but he could not 
 overcome the dread he had of going to the bottom of 
 the sea in the Wolf ; for she leaked badly, and the 
 incessant creaking of her straining timbers kept him 
 wakeful and anxious. Sorely he regretted his rashness 
 in starting off to sea before he had used even ordinary 
 exertions to get employment on shore ; and he silently 
 vowed that if he lived to tread dry land again, he would 
 never more venture afloat as a sailor. That is a sort of 
 vow which has been made much oftener than it has 
 been kept. Ben was just beginning to get comfortably 
 warm in his bed, when the scuttle was thrown back, and 
 Frank descended to the forecastle, his oilskins glistening 
 with salt water. He looked into Ben's bunk and ex- 
 claimed, " Hallo, doctor ! There you are snug enough, 
 I am sorry to disturb you, as the cat said to the rat in 
 the cheese locker, but you must tumble out of that, and 
 come and take a spell at the pumps," 
 
 " I hope we are not sinking," said Ben, sitting up in 
 his bunk, and looking much concerned at Frank's sum- 
 mons, 
 
 " She is all afloat yet, shipmate ; but if we keep 
 yarning instead of pumping, she will go down under us 
 in less than an hour ; so rouse out and slip yourself 
 into your oilskins." 
 
 " I shipped as cook, you know, l-'rank ; and I don't 
 think it is my duty to pump. I never ask any of you 
 sailors to fill my cop^jcrs or my coal-box for me. I 
 like fair play, whether I am on sea or on shore." 
 
 "Ay, fair play is nice enough when you can get it, 
 doctor. I'lit it is no use your sitting there palavering 
 to me about your duty ; you had better come on deck, 
 I tell you. It is every man's duty to work for his life.
 
 J TURN AT THE STARBOARD PUMP. 25 
 
 Poor Dumby got half his ribs stove in by the last sea 
 that broke on board, and he is lying on the cabin floor 
 disabled." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that, Frank. Is he much hurt } " 
 
 " I guess he is damaged for life, poor fellow ! He 
 was washed from the lee pump smash against the iron 
 davits of the jolly-boat. He was a real good hand to 
 work ; I'll say that for him, though he was always too 
 proud and sulky to speak to his messmates. You 
 must take his place at the pump, Ben, so up you come 
 on deck after me, or the second mate will soon be down 
 to coax you up, and you won't like his toe-and-heel 
 style of argument." 
 
 Ben had no confidence in the tenderness of the second 
 mate, so he shivered into his damp clothes, and as he 
 did so he tried to ponder the mysterious questions, 
 which have so often been speculated upon by simple 
 landsmen ; namely, Why the law allows unseaworthy 
 ships to go to sea ? and why seamen who have once 
 escaped being drowned by the sinking of a rotten ship, 
 will venture to sea at a similar risk ? Poor Ben could 
 not go into the abstract theory of demand and supply, 
 and he was ignorant of the various ramifications of trade 
 interests, or money-making wheels within wheels innu- 
 merable, some of which would be stopped for ever if 
 there were no unseaworthy ships. Good Samuel Plim- 
 soll has long been bravely trying to reform some of the 
 maritime evils and abuses, which have strewed the 
 bottom of the sea with dead men's bones. May God 
 speed him in his humane efforts ! Let every sailor's 
 wife in the world say Amen to that short petition. 
 
 Ben might have judged that it was as easy to get 
 sailors to man rotten ships as it is to get horses to draw 
 rickety street cars, if he had reflected on the readiness
 
 26 I.V THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 with which he shipped in the Wolf 'ior the sake of earn- 
 ing an honest livehhood. But he had not time for much 
 reflection ; besides, it isn't every man who can philoso- 
 phize cahiily with death roaring in his ears. As soon 
 as he showed hifnself on deck, he was peremptorily 
 ordered to take a turn at the starboard pump. Ben had 
 always been pleased to join the crew of the Bluejacket at 
 the pumps every evening, just before changing the watch 
 at eight bells. They usually had a song over it, and it 
 gave him a nice chance of letting the listening pas- 
 sengers on the poop hear his fine tenor voice. The 
 Bbicjaeket was a tight ship ; that is to say, it took only 
 about ten minutes pumping every night, and the crew 
 were rather sorry that their song was shortened by the 
 early sucking of the pumps. That was the romance of 
 leakiness. But what a dreary difference there was in 
 Ben's feelings when he caught hold of the slippery 
 handle of the Wolfs pump on that stormy night! 
 That was a stern reality. No poetry in that mono- 
 tonous motion, and the crew were as mute as fishes or 
 dead birds, save when they now and then gave vent to 
 a natural grumble at their hard lot. Ben's back was 
 almost broken before the welcome words, " Spell oh ! '' 
 called him to resign his post to another man, and to 
 rest for ten minutes. 
 
 The Wolf was hove-to under storm staysails and 
 balance-reefed main-trysail, and if she had been fairly 
 laden she would probably have weathered the gale with- 
 out damage ; but she was too deep to lift to the waves, 
 or, as Frank remarked, there was no life in her, and 
 heavy seas frequently broke over her, washing every- 
 thing movable off the deck and endangering the lives 
 of the drenched crew. Ben had just left the pump for 
 the second time at the sound of " Spell oh ! " and was
 
 BEN ''HURLED TO LEEWARD." 27 
 
 leaning against the mainmast, rubbing his back, when 
 he heard the captain shout to the crew to look out for 
 themselves. Almost at the same moment a surging 
 wave came tumbling on board, and Ben felt himself 
 violently hurled down to leeward. He heard the crash- 
 ing of the bulwarks, and he felt the numbing pain of his 
 broken bones. A horror of death came over him, a 
 recollection of a lifetime of sin, a terrible sense of 
 suffocation and struggling, and then consciousness for- 
 sook him.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 " Cheerfulness is medicine for the mind." 
 
 " Here you are, messmates; snugly moored in blanket 
 bay, out of the roar of the breakers," said Frank, as he 
 descended to the forecastle where Ben and the wounded 
 sailor, Dumby, were lying in their berths, on the sick 
 list. " No watch on deck or slaughtering work at the 
 pumps for you lucky boys ! Nothing to do but lie on 
 your backs and reckon up your wages running on every 
 day, and plan out the easiest way to spend it all when 
 you get on shore. Eh, what do you say, Ben ? You 
 arc not over jolly. Ha, ha ! I should think not by the 
 look of your lemon-coloured phiz ; but you ought to be 
 pretty comfortable anyway. I wish I were you for an 
 hour or two this busy morning." 
 
 " Ah, it's nice perhaps to be off duty for a week or so 
 in a vessel where there is no time at all allowed for play ; 
 but if you liad my broken bones you would soon wish 
 you were Frank Shorter again, with a sound body," 
 replied Ben in a feeble tone. "The sea is smoother 
 tlian it was, I can feel, for the ship doesn't pitch so much. 
 Where are we now ? " 
 
 " We are skimming along under the lee of Mount 
 
 Egmont, but we shall open Cook's Straits in an hour or 
 
 two, and if we don't get a Iiard breeze then, we shall 
 
 have better luck than I ever had before in this part. I 
 
 28
 
 BEN LAID UP. 29 
 
 don't know the reason why, but it is nearly always blow- 
 ing hard in these straits either up or down, and you very 
 seldom get a smooth slant ; anyway, I have never yet 
 heard any fellow say that he was ever lucky enough to 
 get one." 
 
 " Oh dear ! I hope we shan't have any more bad 
 weather, Frank. My leg is middling easy now the 
 ship is quieter, but if I move about it pains me very 
 much." 
 
 " Of course it does ; that's only nature hinting to you 
 to lie still and don't fidget. I know what crushed bones 
 feel like, for I had my right leg fractured when I was a 
 lad, and I hadn't very tender nursing either. You must 
 keep your limb as still as death till the bones begin to 
 splice together again, or the chances are that you'll be 
 bandy-legged for life : and then I shall be called a botch, 
 as many careful surgeons have been called when the 
 fault was in the wriggling patient himself. I hope we 
 shan't have any more such weather as we had last week ; 
 for with two hands short of our crew, if there is any 
 more extra pumping, we shall all be laid up, and the 
 ship must go down. Now then, my lads, stand by for 
 your skilly," added Frank, producing two pannikins full 
 of gruel. " This isn't rich tack, but I couldn't do much 
 with mouldy oatmeal, and only coarse salt to flavour it. 
 It has been cooked in a clean saucepan, I can say that 
 much in its favour. Come, Dumby ! open your eyes, 
 and you will see something to put in your mouth. It is 
 time you took a feed, for you have not swallowed a par- 
 rot's allowance for the last five days. Rouse up, my 
 bonnie ! Never say die ! " 
 
 But Dumby did not take any notice of Frank's 
 friendly appeals ; whereupon Ben said, " Don't disturb 
 him if he's asleep, Frank. He suffers terribly in his
 
 30 7A THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 chest, poor fellow ; and his moaning is distressing to 
 hear sometimes. It* half frightens me." 
 
 " I'll be bound he does suffer real torture, for he was 
 badly crushed, and I can't help him, worse luck. His 
 breakages are beyond the skill of a sailor or a surgeon 
 either, because they can't be handled at all. I set your 
 limb almost as easily as I could fish a wooden leg, but 
 there is no getting at his broken bones, any more than 
 you can get at the timbers of a ship when she is full of 
 cargo. I am afraid the jagged ends of his ribs have 
 damaged some of the tender concerns near his lungs or 
 his heart, poor fellow ! The best doctor in the world 
 can't cure a disease unless he can get at the cause of it, 
 you know." 
 
 "You make a capital doctor, Frank. I believe you 
 have saved my life." 
 
 " I don't know about that, Ben. A man seldom dies 
 of a broken leg and a few bruises on his head, especially 
 if he is a sailor in a craft like this, where he is not in 
 danger of living too high, and where there is no grog 
 served out. As for my skill in doctor's work, it isn't 
 •much to boast of I should be no better than an 
 impudent quack if I said I knew much about it, when 
 men of first-class education, and long medical practice, 
 sometimes own that they don't know half as much as 
 they would like to know about human ailments, and the 
 way to cure them. Still, for all that, I should be stupidly 
 thick-headed if I didn't know something about dressing 
 a wound or splicing a simple breakage, considering the 
 long service I have had in the navy ; and that part of 
 my time I use to help the doctors in the hospital." 
 
 " Oh, you have been in the navy, have you, Frank ?" 
 
 " I have so, and on this coast too, for many years. I 
 was on board the Hazard frigate at that terrible set-to
 
 FRANK NURSES BEN. 31 
 
 with the Maories, to the northward, when Lieutenant 
 Philpotts was massacred. But you don't recollect that 
 affray, and I haven't time to tell you about it now. I 
 think it is better to let poor Dumby alone, as he seems 
 to be dozing ; perhaps sleep will do him more good than 
 this musty gruel. I will carry it back to the galley and 
 keep it hot for him." At that 'moment the mate shouted 
 down the scuttle for Frank to come on deck and help to 
 shorten sail. 
 
 " I told you we should get a breeze in the straits, and 
 the skipper is going to prepare for it. Take care of 
 yourself, Ben. If the ship begins to knock about much, 
 I will come and block you up with something soft." 
 Frank then hastened up the scuttle, and Ben lay and 
 listened to his lusty voice singing hoy, hoy ! w^iile bawl- 
 ing down or clewing up the flapping sails. 
 
 I must now explain, that when Ben was dashed into 
 the lee scuppers by the heavy sea which broke on board, 
 he was given up for lost by his shipmates, who were for 
 a time too much occupied in taking care of themselves 
 to afford help to others. The same wave swept away 
 the caboose, also the long-boat from amidships, and 
 smashed most of the bulwarks. After awhile Ben was 
 found quite insensible, but clutching with the tenacity of 
 death's grip to a bight of the fore-sheet. He was picked 
 up and carried into the cabin, when it was found that 
 his left leg was broken, and he had received some severe 
 contusions on his head. Frank acted as surgeon, and, 
 with the help of the second mate, splintered up the 
 broken limb, and dressed the scalp wounds. They then 
 carried the sufferer forward and laid him in his berth. 
 
 A thorough-bred sailor is perhaps one of the handiest 
 of men in an emergency of any sort, from a wreck at sea 
 to a fire on shore ; in fact, sailors are usually ready to
 
 32 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 lend a hand at any job, whether it be rough or smooth, 
 hazardous or otherwise. As a rule, they are not good 
 horsemen ; still, when they arc above the affectation of 
 awkwardness, which some of them love to display, they 
 soon become clever in the management of horses, and 
 are expert and fearless dfivers. I once saw a superan- 
 nuated man-of-war's man drive a tandem down one of 
 the mountain roads near Braidwood, and though he had 
 no reins to his leading horse, he drove his team at a 
 smart trot. A lady passenger sat beside him in the cart, 
 and she seemed to have perfect confidence in her sailor 
 driver. The railway authorities in New South Wales 
 and Victoria show good judgment in employing many 
 nautical men on their railway lines ; for the watchful- 
 ness and promptitude which are necessary parts of their 
 duty on shipboard, together with the discipline to which 
 they have been trained, render sailors peculiarly fitted 
 for the responsible posts of officers of railway trains. 
 They also make excellent fire-brigade men. I have had 
 many sailors in my employ, both at sea and on shore, 
 so I can to some extent write experimentally of their 
 trustworthy qualities. But my remarks only refer to 
 sailors of the steady and intelligent sort. Drinking, 
 rollicking jack tars arc only useful in ships where there 
 is no grog, either in the store-room or in the hold. They 
 will work hard while they are forced to keep sober, but 
 usually they arc troublesome fellows, and sometimes 
 highly mischievous. 
 
 Frank Shorter was one of the handy sort of seamen, 
 though he confessed that he was not to be trusted if he 
 got within the scent of grog. lie had served many 
 years in Her Majesty's navy, and had gained prize 
 money enough to have bought a snug little house for 
 himself in his old age if he had taken care of it. But
 
 FRANK'S IDEA OF HAPPINESS. 33 
 
 he never would save a shilling. Plenty of grog and a 
 fiddle, or a "free and easy" concert at a tavern, were 
 Frank's ideas of happiness on shore ; and no sooner was 
 he off a cruise than he began to indulge his fancy, and 
 to squander his money as recklessly as if he had stolen 
 it, instead of working hard to earn it. Frank was about 
 fifty years of age, and he had the peculiar rolling gait 
 and the unmistakable cut of a real seaman. He was 
 only of medium height, but was stout and strongly 
 made. His bronzed face seemed to index a mind that 
 was not easily disturbed by trifles, and a glance at his 
 head when his grizzled locks were thrown off his brow, 
 would assure any intelligent observer that he had a fair 
 share of common-sense and quick perception. He had 
 small grey eyes, and they usually seemed to be twink- 
 ling at some humorous idea in their owner's brain. He 
 had a large nose with a highly-coloured tip. He used 
 to say that it cost him more money to give his grog- 
 blossomed nose that pure mulberry tinge than would 
 have built and rigged a handy-sized schooner. He had 
 a generous disposition and " a heart that could feel for 
 another," and he attended to his sick shipmates as gently 
 as a trained nurse. He never swore nor used obscene 
 language ; and there was an honest quaintness about his 
 occasional grumbling which made it more tolerable than 
 the preaching of some persons that I have had to listen 
 to in my travels. 
 
 Dumby, as he was called (and the nickname by which 
 he was known to the crew), had shipped in Sydney as 
 an ordinary seaman only a few hours before Ben joined 
 the Wolf. From his first appearance on board his 
 manner was morose and repulsive. His unsociable 
 bearing had subjected him to jeering remarks from 
 members of the crew, who said he was too proud for 
 
 D
 
 34 ^N luL. DhFIH^ 0/' THE SEA. 
 
 his calling. They sometimes, with mock respect, dubbe'd 
 him " The Marquis," and they would contrive to let him 
 in for the worst jobs in the watch — such as furling the 
 jib, or hauling out the earing at the boom end when 
 reefing the main-trysail. But he never showed want of 
 courage or a disposition to slink from a post of danger; 
 and though he did not rank A.B. (able seaman), he was 
 the most careful helmsman on board, and at reefing or 
 furling a sail he was as expert as a crack yachtsman. 
 In his watch below, when out of his bunk, he was usually 
 • employed writing, with the top of his chest for a desk, 
 and the rapidity with which he moved his pen was a 
 marvel to his untutored shipmates, some of whom 
 guessed that he was a broken-down lawyer's clerk; 
 others said he was a soldier officer in disguise ; but they 
 all agreed that he was a sulky fellow, because he took 
 his meals by himself and seldom spoke a word to any 
 one on board. He was a tall, well-built man, and had 
 evidently been handsome at one period of his life ; but 
 the effects of dissipation and neglect were very apparent 
 in his face, and in his crouching figure also. He was 
 about forty-eight years of age. Though dressed in 
 sailor's gear, there was a decided superiority in his look, 
 and he seemed to be conscious of it. Of his previous 
 history, or where he came from, no one on board had 
 the least knowledge ; and he never seemed to hear any 
 questions that were put to him on the subject, or he 
 never answered them, Ilcncc he acquired the nick- 
 name of Dumby. During his watch, when not at the 
 helm, he would pace the main-deck with a stately step 
 apparently lost in thought, and at times would tlu'ow 
 his arms out, as if he were suddenly overcome by a 
 painful emotion. Ben fancied he was in great trouble, 
 and spoke to him in a friendly way on several occasions
 
 DUMBTS MISHAP. 35 
 
 when he came into the caboose to light his pipe, but he 
 always replied very briefly, and showed a disinclination 
 for conversation. 
 
 I have before alluded to Dumby's mishap when he 
 was washed from the pump by a heavy sea. He was 
 carried below to his bunk soon after the accident, and 
 w'as looked after as carefully as possible under the cir- 
 cumstances. But he did not rally much ; and Frank's 
 first opinion, that he had received a severe internal injury, 
 was confirmed from day to day. The captain and mate 
 visited him sometimes, but neither of them could induce 
 him to speak a word, and he obstinately refused to take 
 the medicines they recommended. There he lay for a 
 week or more in intense pain, and his stifled groans kept 
 Ben's sympathies in full stretch. Frank was very atten- 
 tive to the suffering man, and as Ben lay and from time 
 to time watched the real kindness of the rough old sailor, 
 he conceived an affection for him which did not wear 
 away. Kindness always influences the heart to love. 
 
 About an hour after Frank went on deck, at the com- 
 mand of the mate to shorten sail, Ben could tell by the 
 uneasy motion of the vessel that she was no longer 
 under the lee of the land, and his broken limb was pain- 
 ful again. Presently Frank re-entered the forecastle 
 with a bundle of oakum, vvhich he packed around Ben's 
 mattress to block him up in his bunk and keep him from 
 rolling about. 
 
 " Is it going to blow hard, Frank ? " asked Ben, with 
 an anxious look, 
 
 " I think it is blowing stiff enough now, shipmate. 
 The sea is feather white, and we are under double-reefed 
 canvas ; but the sea will be more lumpy when we get 
 clear of the land, and then you must look out and keep 
 this limb of yours from working or wriggling about.
 
 36 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 You will have nothing else to do, and that little job will 
 amuse you. I have padded your crib as carefully as if 
 you were a young prize bull, and I don't think you can 
 fetch way now. I hope poor Dumby will weather it out- 
 If he wakes up before I come down again, tell him there 
 is some gruel in the hook-pot alongside his bunk. We 
 shall have a dead beat all the way up to Mapuwa, and 
 the WolfwWX jump about a bit ; so take care of yourself, 
 Ben, and mind your bad leg. There^s the second mate 
 shouting 'All hands' again, so I must go on deck. 
 What a pleasant voice that young man has got, to be 
 sure ! Smooth as a rusty fog-horn. I wonder if he has 
 got a sweetheart .'' Ay, ay, sir ! I'm coming," added 
 Frank, in reply to the gruff question of the second mate 
 "if he were down there shaving himself, while the ship 
 was getting water-logged .-' "
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " O life ! Thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, 
 To wretches such as I." 
 
 — Burns. 
 
 Soon after Frank had gone on deck, the Wolf began 
 to pitch heavily, and Ben would have sufifered increased 
 pain in his broken limb, but for the kindly forethought 
 of his friend, in blocking him up in his bunk. The 
 oakum had a strong scent of tar ; but Ben fancied it 
 helped to neutralize odours of a less agreeable kind, and 
 the tight padding kept him from rolling about There 
 he lay and ruminated over past events in his history, 
 and tried to penetrate the future ) but his misty glances 
 in that direction were always downwards to the bottom 
 of the sea, where he fancied he could see his own body 
 lying on the weedy rocks, and surrounded by a shoal of 
 nibbling fishes. The ominous groaning of the Wolf's 
 timbers as the waves thumped against her sides, and the 
 constant clanking of the pumps, were encouraging to 
 the morbid idea that his bunk would be his coffin ; and 
 again he bewailed his impetuosity in running from his 
 home, to meet trouble and disaster on sea and on shore, 
 which he might have avoided altogether. He was trying 
 to imagine what his choking sensations would be when 
 the Wolfga.ye her final plunge, never to rise again, and 
 how he would feel as the waters of death rushed down 
 the forecastle scuttle, when he was startled by an un- 
 
 37
 
 38 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 usually heavy groan from Dumby, in the opposite berth; 
 and on looking over he saw him struggling into a sitting 
 posture, while his face bore a ghastly death-like hue, 
 which was almost horrible to behold. In gasping accents 
 he said, " Cook, can you go aft and tell the captain that 
 I want to see him immediately ?" 
 
 " No ; it's impossible. I am almost as disabled as you 
 
 are." 
 
 " Then you are in a bad case, and I am sorry for you, 
 young man. What is your name .'' " 
 
 " Benjamin Bruce." 
 
 " Bruce, did you say ? Where did you come from ? " 
 
 " From Sydney. I shipped as cook a few hours 
 before we sailed.'^ 
 
 " Yes, I remember seeing you come on board ; but 
 I shall not see you go on shore. I must die in this 
 gloomy forecastle, unknown and uncarcd for. Such is 
 my fate, and I can't alter it now." Dumby then lay for 
 several minutes and raved out fearful imprecations 
 against the owner of the Wolf, for sending his vessel 
 to sea murderously overladen. At length he got so 
 violently excited that Ben shouted for Frank, under the 
 terrifying impression that the man was mad. 
 
 " Hush ! you silly fellow ! What are you afraid of? 
 Cease your noise, and listen to what I say. I have 
 something very important to disclose." 
 
 The sick man raised himself in his berth, and his 
 half-imploring, half-commanding look awed l?en into 
 silence. lie might have called long enough for Frank 
 without receiving an answer, for he was at the pumps ; 
 and the roaring of the wind and waves prevented his 
 hearing the call. Ben lay and trembled into a cold 
 sweat. Presently Dumby said, in a sepulchral tone,— 
 
 "The pain I am suffering is more than mortal nature
 
 DUMBTS REQUEST. 39 
 
 can bear very long, and my hours are numbered. If 
 the ship had kept steady till we got to Wellington, I 
 might have had a chance for my life, but this horrid 
 motion will soon make an end of me. I am dying now. 
 'Seest thou thy brother shipwrecked, look well to thy 
 tackling.' Tush, man ! don't be afraid of me ! I could 
 not harm you if I wished to do it. Listen ! I have a 
 solemn request to make — a very important trust to 
 depute to you. Can you hear what I say } " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I am listening," said Ben, and he was 
 trembling too. 
 
 " You must promise — ay, you must solemnly declare 
 to me that you will perform what I am about to request. 
 I do not willingly impose this trust upon you, but I 
 have no alternative. If you could call the captain down 
 here I would ask him to do it. He might perhaps be 
 a more respected agent. I cannot hold out much longer 
 under this frightful torture, and probably you are the 
 only mortal who will see my death struggles. I little 
 thought I should come to this wretched, helpless con- 
 dition, and die in such a dog-hole ! But I have been 
 sowing for a sad harvest." 
 
 Dumby spoke in short, disjointed sentences, and with 
 a painful effort to articulate distinctly. For a few 
 minutes he seemed to be overcome by emotion, but 
 recovering his voice he checked Ben again for shouting 
 for Frank. " If it would save my life you could not 
 make any one hear your call ; so, for pity's sake, lie still, 
 young man, and listen to what I have to say ! You 
 must do what I request, and you may depend upon 
 being well paid for your time and trouble. Will you 
 promise me to do it honestly .'' Why don't you answer 
 my question, Bruce ? " 
 
 " I am afraid I shall not live very long myself, sir.
 
 40 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 We had better wait till Frank comes down. I am sure 
 he will do whatever you ask him. Do, pray, wait till he 
 comes. He won't be long." 
 
 "Can you get out of your berth .^" asked Dumby, 
 without seeming to heed Ben's excited remarks. " Can 
 you get up, I ask > " 
 
 *' Oh dear no ! I cannot stir ofif my back." 
 
 "Then I must make a last effort," gasped Dumby: at 
 the same time he struggled out of his berth and stood 
 on the deck, looking like the shadow of death. He 
 opened his chest and took therefrom a quantity ot 
 manuscript, which he made up into a roll and tied it 
 round with a silken guard attached to the key of his 
 chest. " That is the last knot I shall ever tie," he said, 
 as he fastened the ends of the guard. " I cannot seal 
 this packet, for I have no means of doing it ; but see 
 you to it that it is not untied by any other hands than 
 those to whom I am now about to direct it. He then 
 took a pen from his chest and wrote a name and address 
 on the parcel, and gave it to Ben. " Now, Benjamin 
 Bruce, you solemnly declare in the presence of a dying 
 man, that you will faithfully preserve this packet from 
 prying eyes, and deliver it as directed .'"' 
 
 " It pains me to refuse you, sir, but I dare not promise 
 to do that. I may not live, or I may be a helpless 
 cripple, or " 
 
 " Of course death will absolve you from all your 
 earthly obligations. I have not asked you to do im- 
 possibilities. Do not dally with me, my good lad ! I 
 am getting faint, and my voice will soon be stopped 
 for ever — hushed in this world, I mean. I ask you to 
 promise that you will do your utmost to carry out my 
 dying request. You will certainly be well paid for the 
 service, and perhaps it may put you in the way to
 
 A SOLEMN PROMISE. 41 
 
 fortune — if you are ambitious for what now seems to me 
 as unsubstantial as the froth of the sea waves." 
 
 " Where does the person Hve to whom I am to give 
 the parcel — that is, if I am able to deliver it ? " 
 
 " In the north of England. You may read the address 
 presently." 
 
 " Oh dear ! that is a long way off. How am I to get 
 there .-' I have no money to pay my way." 
 
 " Take this key of my chest. There is very little 
 money in it, but there are several articles of money 
 value. The diamond ring cost me thirty guineas, and 
 my gold watch is an expensive one. Whatever the 
 chest contains I give to you ; and rest assured you will 
 be amply rewarded if you deliver the packet safely to 
 its destination, for it is of great value to my family, 
 though useless to a stranger. Do you now promise.''" 
 
 " I solemnly promise and vow that I will do my 
 utmost to carry out your wishes in an honest way. I 
 dare not say more than that." 
 
 " It is enough. Give me your hand." He reached 
 over and took Ben's hand into his clammy grasp, and 
 said, " Thank you, my good friend, thank you ! Now 
 I have something else to say to you, but I must first get 
 into my berth again, if I can." He then made two or 
 three futile efforts to climb back into his bunk, and 
 finally sank down on his sea-chest exhausted and 
 apparently in great pain. For ten minutes or more his 
 groans were horrifying. Ben continued to shout for help 
 until he was hoarse, but no help came ; he was in the 
 act of crawling out of his berth, dragging his broken 
 limb after him, when Dumby's paroxysm subsided, and 
 he faintly gasped, " Lie still, Bruce ; I have something 
 more to say to you. Do you know Melbourne ? " 
 
 " No, sir, I have never been there."
 
 42 TN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " You must go there, as soon as possible. Listen ! 
 In the bottom of my chest you will find a pencil drawing 
 or map of Fitzroy Gardens. On the spot marked with 
 the Greek letter A, which is exactly four feet due north 
 from an elm-tree, dig with your knife, and a foot below 
 the surface you will find a small tin box. Take that 
 box and deliver it to the same gentleman to whom I 
 have directed the parcel of manuscript. Will you 
 solemnly promise me to do that .'' Speak up quickly, 
 my friend ; you can see my time is short. Don't dally 
 or trifle with a man who is just about to dive into 
 eternity." 
 
 " I can only repeat the promise I made just now, that 
 I will do all in my power to carry out your wishes," said 
 Ben, after a short pause. 
 
 " I am satisfied. Keep your promise faithfully, and 
 you will have good reason to be glad that you have 
 undertaken the executorship of this my last will ; but 
 mind, Bruce, I emphatically warn you again not to 
 open the tin box, nor untie the silken cord which these 
 death-clammy fingers of mine have bound round the 
 parcel of manuscript, or you will have frightful cause to 
 regret your breach of trust. You will see " 
 
 " Oh, my good sir ! pray don't say any more. I cannot 
 bear to hear it," interrupted Ben, who began again to 
 quake violently before the almost supernatural glare of 
 the dying man's eyes. " I will do my best to carry out 
 your wishes, and I solemnly vow that I will not pry 
 into anything that you entrust to my charge." 
 
 " I thank you again, Bruce. Forgive me if I have 
 seemed to suspect you of duplicity. I have broken 
 promises and vows so often myself, that I am meanly 
 suspicious of others. I believe you are honest. There 
 is a pocket I'iblc in my chest. Alas ! it is years ago
 
 DUMBVS LAST WORDS. 43 
 
 since I last read it. If I had shaped my Hfe by its holy 
 precepts and injunctions, I should not now be a hopeless 
 fugitive dying in the forecastle of a rotten collier 
 schooner. But it is too late to alter my fate. I must 
 suffer the penalty of my egregious folly. You will see 
 my real name written on the fly-leaf of the book. The 
 name I have signed on the ship's articles is an assumed 
 one ; but it will be well for you to keep that fact a 
 secret for awhile. I am an outcast from society, a 
 guilty, polluted wretch. I have lived a reprobate, and, 
 alas! I am dreadfully unprepared to die. Death is a 
 terrible reality to me, now that I am within its over- 
 powering grip. Good Lord, have mercy upon me ! " 
 
 The poor man then covered his face with his hands 
 and wept. Presently he turned towards Ben, as if again 
 about to speak, when he was seized with a fit, and fell 
 to the deck in the agonies of death. Ben shouted for 
 help, but in vain, no one heard his cries ; so, in sheer 
 desperation, he wriggled out of bed to the ladder under 
 the scuttle, but could get no farther. Overpowered by 
 the pain of his broken limb and the terrible shock to 
 his nerves, he sank down on the deck, almost alongside 
 the writhing body of the dying man. Such a position 
 would be trying to the courage of a strong healthy 
 man, and it is no wonder that Ben, whose s}'stem was 
 enervated by his sufferings and by the unwholesome air 
 of his hospital, should have swooned with terror. How 
 long he was in that unconscious state is not certain, but 
 on recovering himself, there was the ghastly face of his 
 dead shipmate before his eyes. It would be hard to 
 imagine a more shocking position for a sick man to be 
 placed in, and Ben's courage was tried beyond its 
 strength. His imagination, always active, fairly ran 
 away with him, and filled the forecastle with shapes of a
 
 44 !N THE DEPTHS OF THJE SEA. 
 
 terrifying character. For an hour or more he called 
 loudly for help, without any response. At length he 
 saw the rough face of Frank looking down the scuttle 
 and he exclaimed pitcously, " Oh, Frank ! do pray come 
 down here." 
 
 " What are you shouting about, man ? I can't leave 
 the deck just now. Two of the weather main shrouds 
 have been carried away. I must cover up the scuttle, 
 for we are going to wear the ship round, and we may 
 get a sea on board." 
 
 The scuttle hatch was then put on and Ben was left 
 in total darkness. It was a slight relief to him, for it 
 hid the distorted features of the dead man. The noise 
 of active feet on the deck above him also helped to 
 remove the horrid feeling of loneliness with death. By 
 the movements of the crew he judged that they were 
 putting the vessel on the opposite tack, in order to save 
 the mainmast from going over the side. The ship was 
 wore round without any serious mishap, and soon after- 
 wards the scuttle hatch was removed and Frank de- 
 scended to the forecastle. 
 
 " Hallo, my lads ! Arc you lying on the deck to cool 
 yourselves in this freezing weather .-' Mercy 'pon us ! 
 Dumby is dead ! " he added, in the same breath, but in a 
 very different tone, as he caught sight of the upturned 
 face of the corpse. How long has he been lying there 
 Ben ? Boor old fellow ! he has had a hard struggle with 
 death, by the look of him." 
 
 " Oh pray help me into my bunk again, Frank, and I 
 will tell you all about it." 
 
 "You ought not to have got out of your bunk for 
 anybody. That leg of yours is all adrift again, I can 
 see," said Frank, as he lifted Ben o{( the deck. " Look 
 at this now ! your toes are slewed athwart-ships. Hang
 
 ''POOR OLD DUMBYl" 45 
 
 on to me. Now, then, hoy, hoy ! up you go ! There 
 you are in bed once more, and you had better lie still 
 till I get time to splice your limb again. Poor old 
 Durnby ! I am sorry we used to joke him so much." 
 
 " Sit down for a few minutes, Frank. I want to tell 
 you something about him." 
 
 " I haven't time to sit down now, Ben. I must go and 
 lend a hand to pass a hawser over the head of the 
 mainmast. It is a burning shame to let a vessel come 
 to sea with such rotten gear as we have on board." 
 
 " Throw a blanket over Dumby's body before you go 
 on deck, Frank ; and come below as soon as you can, 
 there's a good fellow." 
 
 " Ay, ay, boy. And we must carry the body out of 
 this as soon as we can. I don't like having a dead man 
 in my sleeping crib ; it isn't wholesome, let alone the 
 fancy of the thing." 
 
 In less than an hour Frank came down again, and 
 said that the captain was bearing up for smooth water 
 under the lee of the land, in order to repair the damaged 
 rigging, and to give the hands at the pumps a little 
 breathing time ; for which information Ben was heartily 
 glad. 
 
 "That poor fellow gave me an awful shock, Frank, 
 when he got out of his berth. I scrambled out of mine 
 to get on deck for help, but couldn't mount the ladder." 
 
 " I should rather think you couldn't mount a ladder," 
 replied Frank, who was busy taking the splints off Ben's 
 leg in order to re-set it. I must ask the mate to come 
 down and lend me a hand with this limb. I shall never 
 get the kink out of it by myself, and then you will be a 
 cripple for life, and perhaps be altogether spoilt for a 
 sailor." 
 
 "I don't want the mate to hear me tell you what
 
 46 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA 
 
 Dumby said to me, Frank. I will tell you something, 
 but you must be sure to keep it secret, for it is about 
 private concerns. Do you believe in ghosts ? " 
 
 " I don't know much about them, Ben. I have seen a 
 few of the sham sort in my time, but I never saw a real 
 one. For all that I dare say ghosts are sometimes 
 allowed to come to us when they have a sensible errand, 
 but never for the sake of playing skylarking tricks. 
 That's my opinion ; but what do you ask such a scaring 
 question for, just now ? " 
 
 " Oh, something Dumby said to me, Frank. I will 
 tell you all about it, or as much about it as I dare tell 
 anybody." 
 
 " I wouldn't take much account of what he said, Ben ; 
 for I dare say he was half crazy with pain before he 
 died. I am more afraid of his poor old body breeding a 
 fever down here, than I am of his ghost interfering with 
 us, and it's best to get him out of this pretty soon. He's 
 dead, poor chap ! and it won't matter a bit to him 
 whether we heave him overboard to-day or to-morrow. 
 I'll go aft and report his death to the captain." 
 
 " Mind you don't say anything to the ca^Jtain about 
 what I have told you, Frank." 
 
 " Why you haven't told me anything yet, mate. Any 
 way, you needn't be afraid of my saying too much to 
 the old man, for we arc not very intimate companions."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Then a plunge and a splash and all was o'er, 
 And the billows roll'd on as they roU'd before." 
 
 — The Sailor's Grave. 
 
 When the Wolf got into smoother water, she was hove 
 to, and then the captain and mate accompanied Frank 
 to the forecastle to inspect the body of Dumby. In 
 answer to questions from the captain, Ben told him that 
 the deceased, in a fit of delirium, got out of his berth, 
 and when trying to get into it again he burst a blood 
 vessel and died. Ben also explained that he had called 
 for help, but failed to make his voice heard by any one 
 aft, until Frank came to cover up the scuttle. But he 
 did not say anything about the commission Dumby had 
 induced him to undertake, and he took care to conceal 
 the manuscript under his mattress. 
 
 " Well, the poor fellow is dead, there is no doubt 
 about that," remarked the captain, after Ben had made 
 his statement. " We can't take him to Wellington for 
 the coroner to look at him, because there is no telling 
 when we shall get there if this breeze holds on, so he 
 had better be hove overboard as soon as you can get 
 him ready, Murray. Sew him up decently in his bed- 
 ding, and put a k\v big lumps of coal at his feet- 
 enough to sink him. That's his chest, I suppose, 
 lashed alongside his berth ? "
 
 48 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " It was his chest, sir, but it is mine now," said Ben. 
 " He told me I was to keep it, and all that is in it." 
 
 " Ah, that is an old-fashioned yarn, cook," replied 
 the captain, with a significant shake of his head. " A 
 dead man's gear is pretty safe plunder to seize if you 
 can manage it ; but that ancient game won't do on 
 board the JFi?//" while I am master. Make a rope's end 
 fast to the chest and haul it on deck, Murray," he added 
 turning to the chief mate. We must deliver it up to 
 the water police at Wellington ; in the meantime carry 
 it aft and stow it under the cabin table. You had better 
 make an entry in the log-book of the man's death. 
 Died in a fit, you may say." 
 
 " I think he died from the damages he got to his in- 
 side when he was washed from the pumps," remarked 
 Frank with respectful boldness. 
 
 " The cook says the man went off in a fit, so we will 
 log it down at that. We can't hold an inquest on him ; 
 and though you think you know a rare lot about physic, 
 you are not a regular doctor, Frank, so your private 
 opinion goes for nothing at all." 
 
 ■ ril stick to it, at any rate, captain. The cause of 
 Dumby's death is crushed ribs, from being washed foul 
 of the boat's iron davit ; and the ship being overladen 
 was the cause of the sea breaking on board and doing 
 the damage. That's what I shall say if I am asked any 
 questions about it." 
 
 " Well, you had better wait till you are asked about 
 it ; and don't give me any more of your sea-lawyer's 
 gabble just now, or I shall perhaps give you something 
 in exchange that you won't fancy. Now then, bear a 
 hand, Murray ! stitch him up snugly, and when you arc 
 ready sing out, and we will carry him on deck and 
 launch him over the side with sailor-like decency.
 
 BEN LOSES THE CHEST. 49 
 
 That's all we can do for him now, poor fellow ! See if 
 you can find a Prayer-Book when you go aft, Murray. 
 I fancy there is one in the medicine chest." 
 
 " I'll take my oath that Dumby gave his chest to me, 
 captain," said Ben appealingly, as the mate was fasten- 
 ing a rope to it. 
 
 " Yes, I dare say you won't mind doing all that, 
 cook. I have known a sailor man to take his oath for 
 a smaller prize than a sea-chest full of clothes. You 
 had better lie still, and coddle your broken bones, and 
 never mind things that don't belong to you. Now then, 
 hoist away, lads ! heave ahoy ! up she goes ! " 
 
 Away went Dumby's chest up the scuttle, and was 
 carried aft to the cabin. Soon afterwards the corpse 
 was lifted up with decent care and consigned to the 
 deep. Ben was vexed at the loss of the chest, which he 
 considered as his own honestly acquired property, and 
 he was hurt at the cool impudence of the captain in 
 assuming that he would perjure himself for the sake of 
 plundering a dead shipmate. When Frank came below 
 again to turn in after many hours' hard work on deck, 
 he was completely fagged ; nevertheless he was eager 
 to hear Ben's description of the closing scene in the life 
 of Dumby, and all about the mysterious commission 
 which Ben had undertaken at the urgent request of the 
 deceased. 
 
 " I always thought that poor chap was high above 
 the common run of forecastle hands," said Frank, after 
 Ben had told his exciting story. " But I never could 
 make out what he was exactly, because he wouldn't 
 speak out two words at a time. If I had been in your 
 place, I would have got him to tell me a little more 
 about himself while he had the use of his tongue. ]3ut 
 I dare say this writing would tell us all about him. 
 
 E
 
 so IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 There is a precious lot of it ! Will it be fair to read it, 
 Ben ? " 
 
 " No, decidedly not ; I would not untie that string 
 for a coal-basket full of gold-dust,'' said Ben with un- 
 usual firmness. "Never even hint at such a thincr aerain 
 to me, Frank. I will keep my vow if I am able to do 
 so, for I don't want to find out what I shall be liable to 
 if I break it. But I wish I could get that other paper 
 out of Dumby's chest, and his Bible, which will tell us 
 his real name. I don't know the spot where to dig for 
 the tin box in Fitzroy Gardens, without the plan or 
 map that he spoke of. I wonder if the captain would 
 let me look inside the chest just for a minute, if I were 
 to explain to him a little about what I want to get at ? " 
 
 " Not he, Ben ; you may be sure of that, and you had 
 better not ask him, or he will say you are a false-swear- 
 ing thief, as he did an hour or two ago, and perhaps 
 he will give it you in plainer English next time and 
 a thump to help you to remember it.'" After a few 
 minutes' pause, in which he seemed to be cogitating 
 something in his mind, Frank added, " Look you, Ben : 
 if you like to say I shall go shares with you in this 
 little job, whatever it turns up, I'll lend you a hand to 
 work it. Two heads arc better than one, you know, 
 especially in a matter of this curious sort ; and I have 
 had more experience of the world than you have. It 
 may be well for you to have a living witness of Dum- 
 by's death alongside of you, or somebody might say 
 you killed the man, and then stole his traps. Don't 
 you see, mate ? " 
 
 " Yes, Frank ; tluil is very true. I must go carefully 
 to work, or I may get into trouble over this job. .1 have 
 told you about it in a fair and straightforward way, 
 because I have an idea that I can safely trust you ; but
 
 BEN CONSULTS FRANK. 51 
 
 I don't mean to tell any one else. You have been very- 
 kind to me since I have been disabled, and I shall never 
 forget your care. You are a friend in need. If there 
 is anything to be made out of this mysterious business, 
 I shall be willing to share it with you ; but you must 
 help me to perform what I have promised, however 
 risky or troublesome it may be." 
 
 " All right, my boy ; that's a bargain, and here's my 
 hand on it. You may trust an old man-of-war's man 
 for being up to the mark on a pinch. I'll stick to you, 
 Ben, like a dab of pitch to a soldier's jacket, and never 
 be out of sight. I am rather stupid-headed just now, 
 for I am nearly worn out with overwork ; but after I 
 get a few hours' sleep I shall be lively again, and then 
 I will begin to think about the best plan to go to work 
 in this affair. If the thing is to be done at all, we'll 
 manage it, never fear." 
 
 " It puzzles me how we are to get to Melbourne, first 
 of all, and from there to England, for neither of us have 
 any money." 
 
 " Don't trouble your head about that, mate. Fellows 
 who can work on board ship can get to any land they 
 like across the seas, just as naturally as fish could swini' 
 there. What I want to consider, first and foremost, is 
 the safest way to get at Dumby's chest, to smuggle the. 
 things we want out of it. That's the first hard job to 
 tackle. But I must sleep on it. I haven't had ten 
 minutes' nap for twenty hours, so good-night, mess- 
 mate." 
 
 Frank then rolled into his bunk and was soon fast 
 asleep. 
 
 For the ensuing three days the crew of the Wolf had 
 a hard time of it, for they had to tack up to Wellington 
 against a strong breeze, and also had to keep the pumps
 
 52 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 going pretty often. Nor was it a cheering time for the 
 captain and mate. Th"cy naturally wished to take the 
 vessel into port looking tidy aloft — all good seamen 
 have that sort of professional pride in them ; but it was 
 not possible for the crew to do necessary work about 
 the rigging, or to scrub the paint work, when their 
 services were so much needed at the pumps to keep the 
 ship afloat. By the way, the owners of old ships are 
 apt to overlook that fact, or they sometimes show dis- 
 satisfaction with the captains and officers, if their ships 
 return home after a long voyage looking rather dirty 
 about the hull, and the rigging slack and chafed, and 
 the sails ragged. Officers of leaky ships have more to 
 worry them than the dread of being drowned ; they 
 usually have a grumbling crew to manage on the voy- 
 age, and sulky looking owners to face when they get 
 into port. _ 
 
 During those busy days, Frank went below to attend 
 
 to his sick shipmate as often as he could, and Ben was 
 
 always glad to see him, for it was dreary to lie in the 
 
 dark forecastle alone, and there was not light enough 
 
 for him to see to read. He several times noticed a 
 
 ■ peculiarly knowing twinkle in Frank's gray eyes ; but 
 
 to the question what he was thinking of that seemed 
 
 to tickle him so pleasantly, Frank replied, " Wait till 
 
 we come to an anchor, Ben, and then I'll tell you of a 
 
 scheme that my brain is trying to work out, and I 
 
 think it will help us to get the things wc want out oi 
 
 Dumby's chest."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves 
 Shall never tremble." 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 At length the Wolj arrived in WelHngton Harbour, 
 much to the rehef of her almost exhausted crew. Soon 
 after the anchor was dropped, the captain went on shore, 
 taking four sailors with him in the gig, and they did not 
 return until late at night. After tea the first and second 
 mates were sitting in the cabin playing at chess, and 
 there was no one else on board save Frank and Ben, 
 who were down in the forecastle. 
 
 " Now I will tell you of the scheme I have been 
 planning in my brain for several days past," said Frank, 
 after he had dressed Ben's limb and made him snug for 
 the night. " The reason why I didn't tell you of it be- 
 fore, was because I knew you would be thinking over it 
 every minute of the day, and you might perhaps giggle 
 your broken limb out of set again. Besides, the other 
 fellows in our mess would have wondered what you were 
 grinning at always, and they might scent our plot and 
 spoil it all. If I can carry out my scheme cleverly, I 
 shall be able to overhaul Dumby's chest to-night ; but 
 if my cheatery should be found out, I can put it off as a 
 bit of skylarking, and there will be no harm done, save 
 perhaps getting my head punched, for there will be two 
 to one against me." 
 
 S3
 
 54 I^ THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA, 
 
 " I cannot imagine what you are going to do, Frank." 
 " No, I warrant you would never guess it ; but I'll tell 
 you all about it. Keep your ears wide open, for I must 
 speak softly. I mean to play the ghost, and scare the 
 mates out of the cabin. I have some gear that will 
 disguise me nicely, and I shall make a likely looking 
 sprite or goblin. I can make a noise through my own 
 windpipe that would frighten a man-of-war's crew." 
 
 " Well, I certainly should never have guessed your 
 scheme, -Frank. But what if the mates use their re- 
 volvers } " 
 
 " Nobody ever thinks of shooting at a ghost — it isn't 
 reasonable ; any way I must chance that part of it. I 
 am pretty well used to being fired at with big guns 
 though I have never been shot. I guess the mates will 
 be too scared to think of their pistols. Neither of them 
 were kind to Dumby, and they'll think he has come 
 back to settle up old scores with them. But if they 
 should be over plucky, I can sing out in time that I'm 
 only playing off a lark." 
 
 " It is a hazardous lark, Frank, and one I should be 
 afraid to play. I don't like even to joke about ghosts ; 
 in fact, I don't want to have anything whatever to do 
 with them, if I can possibly help it." 
 
 " Neither do I, Ben. Thc}' arc serious things, you 
 know, whether on sea or on shore. But this is a case of 
 necessity. We must have that paper out of Dumby's 
 chest somehow ; and if we don't get it to-night our 
 chance is gone, for the chest will be taken on shore to- 
 morrow, and perhaps we shall never see it again. If 
 you were able to crawl aft, I would tumble overboard, 
 as if by accident, and the mates would have to lower the 
 boat to pick me up, and while they were doing so you 
 inight overhaul the chest ; but it is no good talking over
 
 FRANK'S STRATAGEM. 55 
 
 that plan, for you couldn't get aft if the ship was on fire. 
 I have been thinking over the thing in all its bearings, 
 and there is no other scheme than the one I tell you of, 
 so here goes to try it. If I get found out, of course you 
 needn't say you know anything about it, so the risk 
 is all mine. And after all it isn't robbery that I am 
 plotting. I only want to get a trifle or two out of 
 Dumby's box ; and everything in it fairly belongs to 
 you, only you can't show a written title, worse luck. 
 Now mind you don't laugh, Ben." 
 
 Frank then besmeared his face and beard with a 
 mixture of pipeclay and water, and tied a towel about 
 his head ; he then put on a long white shirt with 
 Dumby's drab oilskin over it. After a few more fanci- 
 ful touches before the looking-glass, he walked aft bare- 
 footed, as noiselessly as a whiff of smoke, and peeped 
 down the skylight at the two mates, and made a slight 
 noise on the deck over their heads, 
 
 " What was that stirring on deck ? " asked the chief 
 mate. 
 
 " A rat, I suppose," said the other mate, who was 
 intent on the game. " Go on, it's your move. I said 
 check to your queen." 
 
 Frank then gave a low hollow moan, whereupon both 
 men suspended their play and looked at each other. 
 
 "That wasn't a rat, Hawkins," said the chief mate. 
 " Some stranger has come aboard to see what he can 
 steal." 
 
 Frank then thrust his white face and part of his body 
 down the skylight, and made a peculiarly weird noise — 
 a sort of doleful blend of guttural and nasal sounds, im- 
 possible to describe. Ben could hear it as he lay in his 
 bunk, and he wondered who taught Frank to make such 
 an unnatural discord. It was dismal in the extreme.
 
 S6 IiV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " Oh, it's old Dumby's ghost ! " exclaimed the second 
 mate, starting up and rushing towards the cabin-stairs, 
 closely followed by his superior officer. Frank slammed 
 the cabin-door to, and ran away to the forecastle. When 
 the mates came on deck they gave a hasty look around 
 and up aloft ; then they lowered the jolly-boat, and 
 rowed twice round the ship, as if they were searching 
 for something. They were just about to get on board 
 again, when Frank stood on the mainrail, and screeched 
 in a more ghastly tone than before, and showed his 
 white figure in full length ; at the same time he threw 
 his arms out like danger signals. The mates did not 
 stay long to gaze at him. They uttered some exclama- 
 tions of astonishment or alarm, then out with their oars 
 again, and pulled away like racers to a ship that was 
 lying at anchor a short distance off. Frank then went 
 into the cabin and opened Dumby's chest, of which Ben 
 had given him the key ; and, after some rummaging, he 
 found the pencil sketch of Fitzroy Gardens, that he was 
 in quest of, also the pocket Bible. He locked the chest 
 again, and returned to the forecastle. After washing 
 his face and putting off his ghostly disguise, he turned 
 into his berth, and there he lay and enjoyed a merry 
 laugh at the success of his scheme. 
 
 "That trick was cleverly done," remarked Ben, after 
 he had laughed till his sore leg began to suffer from the 
 shaking. 
 
 "You may trust an old sailor for knowing a thing or 
 two out of the common way," replied Frank, putting on 
 a philosophizing air, which he sometimes unconsciously 
 assumed. " That is what I call a gentle appeal to the 
 men's finer feelings, and you see how nicely it operated 
 in our favour. I might have talked hard logic for a 
 week, if I knew how, and they would never have seen
 
 "SAILORS HATE GHOSTS.' 57 
 
 the lawfulness of letting me put a finger inside Dumby's 
 box ; and perhaps they would have hunted me forward 
 with a belaying pin about my ears, if I had gone aft to 
 argue the point with them. Officers in small crafts are 
 usually testy sort of fellows, if you touch their dignity 
 at all." 
 
 " You ran a great risk of being shot at, Frank." 
 
 " Not so much as you think, Ben. I know human 
 nature a bit, especially as it shapes out on shipboard. 
 The chief mate is a sailor every inch of him, as the 
 saying is, and the second mate is pretty nigh as good, 
 though he isn't much to look at. If I had pointed a 
 seven-pounder carronade down the skylight, they would 
 have been startled a bit no doubt, but not half so much 
 scared as they were at that long white shirt that I wore, 
 and the pipeclay that I daubed on my face ; anyhow, 
 they would have stood to be blown into chips sooner 
 than take to the boat and desert the ship. But a ghost 
 is an uncommon or an unreal sort of thing, that sailors 
 don't like to have any dealings with at all. Ha, ha ! I 
 knew that scheme of mine would rouse the mates out of 
 the cabin quicker than fire or water or gunpowder would 
 do it. Sailors hate ghosts, especially the ghosts of their 
 old shipmates." 
 
 " I don't believe that landsmen like them either, 
 Frank." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but landsmen in general are not so 
 superstitious as seamen are. The long, lonesome night 
 watches at sea help to breed strange fancies in a man's 
 head, as I know from experience. One of these days, it 
 you remind me, Ben, I will tell you a few true stories 
 about sham ghosts that will amuse you. There is a 
 pretty lot of ghost mummery carried on on shore, I 
 daresay, besides what they do in the play-houses. But
 
 5S IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 I should be a hypocrite if I were to scandalise others 
 for trickery that I have just practised myself, so I had 
 better stop that subject and talk about something better, 
 unless you want to go to sleep." 
 
 " Oh no, I can't sleep now, Frank. Shall I tell you 
 what I have been thinking about you, for several days 
 past, as I have lain here all alone ? " 
 
 " Yes, tell me if you like, shipmate. Your thoughts 
 will do me no more harm if you tongue them out than 
 they will if you keep them stirring in your own brain ; 
 and perhaps they may do me good to hear them. But 
 hush ! wait a bit, Ben ; I hear a boat bumping along- 
 side. The mates have picked up courage enough to 
 come back, I daresay. Keep very quiet, I'll blow the 
 light out." 
 
 " ]Volf, ahoy ! " shouted somebody at that moment. 
 The hail was repeated again and again, but Frank lay 
 still in his berth, and did not reply. Presently footsteps 
 w^ere heard on deck, and a bull's eye lantern was put 
 down into the forecastle, and a voice asked, "Below 
 there ! Where is your anchor watch ? " 
 
 " Hallo ! who is that ? " cried Frank, feigning to be 
 just awaked. 
 
 " Here, show yourself on deck. Where is the anchor 
 watch ? " asked an authoritative voice, which Frank 
 recognised as belonging to the water police officer, for 
 he had heard the voice before, to his sorrow. 
 
 "Aren't the mates in the cabin, sir?" answered Frank 
 drowsily. 
 
 "Go aft and see; and if they are there tell them to 
 come forward to me." 
 
 Frank accordingly went aft, and in a short time re- 
 turned, and with an astonished air reported that the 
 mates were not in the cabin.
 
 SEARCHING FOR THE GHOST. 59 
 
 " Is anybody there ? " asked the officer. 
 " No, sir ; nobody save my sick messmate down in 
 his bunk, in the forepeak." 
 
 " The forepeak is not in the cabin, is it, stupid 
 head ? " 
 
 Frank slyly chuckled to himself, and tried to look as 
 if he was very stupid indeed. The captain and mates 
 and several water policemen then came on board, all 
 well armed ; and a search was made throughout the 
 ship. Frank kept close beside the searchers, and 
 seemed anxious to hear who or what they were trying 
 to find ; whether they expected to catch a bolter from 
 Sydney, or suspected contraband goods among the coals 
 in the hold, 
 
 " Have you seen or heard anything on board the ship 
 this evening ? " asked the police officer, with a searching 
 look at Frank. 
 
 " I did hear a queer sort of noise aft, at about eight 
 bells." 
 
 "Were the mates in the cabin then ? " 
 " Oh yes, sir. They were there then, sure enough." 
 "What was the noise that you heard like, at all t " 
 " Well, it wasn't a bit like singing, nor it wasn't like a 
 
 fiddle, nor yet like " 
 
 "There, that's enough of your gibberish. Go forward." 
 After a little private conversation between the police 
 officer and the captain, the latter testily declared that it 
 was all a yarn about the ghost. His mates could not 
 have been drunk he was sure, because there was no grog 
 on board the ship ; but he suspected they had invented 
 the story as an excuse to get on board the other ship, to 
 have a glass or two. That opinion the captain plainly 
 expressed, much to the disgust of the chief mate, who 
 declared that he had never tasted grog in his life. An
 
 6o IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 angry scene ensued, and there would perhaps have been 
 some fighting, but for the interference of the poHce 
 officer. 
 
 When the police boat left the ship, the captain went 
 forward and cross-questioned Frank about the ghost, 
 which the mates still stoutly declared had hunted them 
 out of the ship. Frank as positively maintained that he 
 had not seen a ghost — in fact, that he had not seen 
 anybody worse than himself till the water police ser- 
 geant and his crew came on board in such a flurry. The 
 captain said the mates had no more pluck than little 
 guinea-pigs, and again he expressed his disbelief in 
 apparitions of all sorts. But in case there should be 
 some skulking cut-throat fellows from the shore smuGfSfled 
 on board, he took the precaution to order one of the 
 sailors to shake down for the night on the cabin tabid 
 and another one to keep watch at the skylight
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " O what men dare do ! What men may do ! 
 What men daily do ! not knowing what they do." 
 
 — Sliakcspcarc. 
 
 While the Wolf lay in port discharging her cargo of 
 coal, Ben could not go on shore on account of his broken 
 leg, and Frank was easily persuaded to stop on board 
 and keep him company. He said that although he felt 
 a strong craving for a drinking spree, he had not the 
 heart to leave a disabled messmate lying in his bunk all 
 alone. One evening all hands went on shore except 
 Frank, who was left in charge of the ship ; so he and 
 Ben had a quiet time together, and could talk confiden- 
 tially without fear of being overheard. After they had 
 chatted over their future operations in Dumby's affairs 
 as far as they could plan them, Frank reminded Ben 
 that he was about to say something to him in an ad- 
 monitory way, when the police boat came alongside and 
 interrupted him on the night that the sham ghost scared 
 the mates off. " Now is the time for you to tell me 
 what you were hinting at so solemnly." 
 
 " I remember what I was going to say, Frank, but I 
 hardly like to say it now lest I should hurt your feel- 
 ings. You have been as kind as a father to me, and I 
 would not grieve you on any account." 
 
 " I know you don't wish to grieve me, Ben, and that is 
 the reason why you will not do it, say what you may to 
 me, Out with what is in your mind. I'll listen to you, 
 
 6i
 
 62 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 never fear ! I am sure it will be honest talk, and that 
 never can do anybody real harm." 
 
 " Well, I had been thinking, as I lay here, of what you 
 once told me of your unconquerable fondness for strong 
 liquor, and I was going to remark that I wondered very 
 much that you, Frank, with so much common-sense in 
 your head, should be in the habit of getting drunk and 
 squandering your hard earnings whenever you go on 
 shore with money in your pockets." 
 
 " It's a way we have in the navy to ' drive dull care 
 away,' as the old song says," replied Frank, with a forced 
 smile. " That's what you were puzzling over, is it ? 
 Well, let me say, shipmate, I wonder that you should 
 wonder at a habit of human nature that is as old as 
 Noah, if not older. You must have lived among an 
 innocent lot of souls before you became a sailor if you 
 have not met with fellows who have the same ancient 
 propensity, which clings to me like barnacles on a moor- 
 ing buoy. Do you mean to tell me that you never had 
 a liking for the peculiar inward tickle of a glass of grog^ 
 Ben .'' Come now, be honest. Did you never get fuddled 
 a little bit t Speak out like a man. No fear of my 
 blaming you for it." 
 
 " I tell you truly, Frank, that I have no more liking 
 for strong drink of any sort than I have for snuff, or 
 for cayenne pepper to flavour my pea soup. If any one 
 were to offer me an open snuff-box, I should perhaps 
 take a pinch for fashion's sake, and sneeze over it ; but I 
 would never think of spending a penny on snuff for my 
 own use, nor on cayenne pepper cither. I can safely say 
 that it has not cost me a shilling for strong drink all the 
 days of my life. I don't sec any fun in throwing away 
 money for stuff that I have no fancy for. I would far 
 sooner have a quart of milk than a gallon of rum."
 
 FRANICS GREA7 TEMPTATION. (>i 
 
 " If that is the case, I am not surprised that you don't 
 understand why I Hke to get on the spree now and then, 
 Ben, None but those who have had a little experience 
 of the thing can know anything about the cravings that 
 beset a poor fellow who is possessed by the drinking 
 fiend. I have not often met with a character like you 
 in the course of my cruising — a regular sober man and 
 not a teetotaller. I wish you would tell me how it is that 
 you have not picked up a taste for the befooling stuff 
 that is leading half the folks in the world by the nose." 
 
 " Perhaps one reason why it has not led me in that 
 way is because I never smelt grog, to my knowledge, up 
 to the age of fourteen. My mother and grandmother 
 looked well after my early training, and set me a good 
 example, I was bound apprentice to a sober master, 
 who kept a keen eye over me in the workshop and after 
 work was over also, I never saw grog in his house, and 
 as I was not allowed the run of the streets at night, I 
 had not much to tempt me from habits of strict sobriety. 
 I had very little money of my own when I was an 
 apprentice, and never had much to spare since I have 
 been out of my time. Now I have given you the main 
 reasons, I suppose, why I do not care for intoxicating 
 liquor," 
 
 " I hope you will have sense enough to keep clear ot 
 it for life." 
 
 " No fear of that, Frank. I have no more craving for 
 it than I have for physic ; and if all the bunks in the 
 forecastle were wine bins, I perhaps should not taste 
 it once a month, if I ever tasted it at- all." 
 
 "My word! if I knew there was a single bottle of 
 intoxicating drink within my reach, I could not be easy 
 for a minute till I had uncorked it, and then the stuff 
 would all go down my throat and I should crave for
 
 6+ IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 more. Nothing would come amiss to me that I could 
 get hold of, from ladies' sweet wine to new rum or fiery 
 arrack, and I should keep on drinking till I got the 
 horrors, unless I was looked after and the grog was kept 
 out of my way." 
 
 " Drink has a sad power over you, Frank, and I can- 
 not understand it. If, as you say, a little grog does you 
 goodj surely you might take a little and then cork the 
 bottle up for the day 1 It is a simple eiTort of the will." 
 
 " Ay, simple as it looks to you, Ben, I could not do it, 
 no more than I could stop my breathing for a day. I 
 could more easily go for a week without victuals. If 
 I were to promise you now, while I am quite sober, that 
 I would not uncork a bottle for a month or two, I would 
 keep my word like a man ; but if I had only tasted a 
 spoonful of the stuff beforehand, you could not coax me 
 to make such a promise, even if it would save my poor 
 old mother's life, and I should go at the bottle till all the 
 grog was gone, even if I knew that the devil was pouring 
 it out for me. That's as true as I am a living sinner, 
 and I can't help it, worse luck." 
 
 "It seems dreadfully mysterious to me, Frank. How 
 do }ou account for the infatuation } You have often 
 thought of it, I daresay .-* " 
 
 " Thought of it, yes, times out of number. I firmly 
 believe Satan himself is at the bottom of it. He has a 
 willing crew always at his beck and call — perhaps a thou- 
 sand times more imps and humbugs than there are sea- 
 men and marines in the British navy ; and they take all 
 sorts of shapes and characters, from learned lawyers and 
 parsons to ugly goblins and smart girls. A squad of 
 them are wide awake and busy day and night, tempting 
 poor weak mortals to go to hell by the short cut of self- 
 murder, and the surest way they can do it is to get them
 
 THE GROG-IMPS. 65 
 
 to drink to madness. The grog-imps are too cunning 
 to try to tempt me in an off-hand way, because they 
 know I should sheer off from them directly. It would 
 be no use for any of them to whisper in my ear, when I 
 am in my sober senses, ' Frank, go and hang yourself to 
 the fore-rigging ; ' or ' Frank, jump overboard,' or ' swal- 
 low a dose of quick poison out of the medicine chest.' 
 But they have many times lured me on to drink hard, 
 and then they have tried to coax me to kill myself when 
 I have been just off a spree." 
 
 " You have imagined they were trying to tempt you, 
 Frank." 
 
 " Well, say it was imagination if you like ; but it 
 seemed awfully real to me, and I am not sure that 
 it wasn't real. I not only heard the whisperings of the 
 fiends, but I could see them as plainly as I now see that 
 lamp burning. Depend upon it, Ben, the devil is a 
 terrible reality, and not a mere fancy of picture-mongers; 
 and I am sure he has a frightful power for mischief over 
 poor mortals who do not know how to resist him. I 
 can't be argued out of that belief by anybody, for I have 
 felt his influence in a way too shocking to express in any 
 words that I know." 
 
 " I suppose you mean to say that you have had de- 
 lirium tremens ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have, worse luck. I know more than I should 
 like to tell you of that horrible suffering which you call 
 by such a learned name. Sailors call it the horrors, or 
 blue devils — they can't find a name too ugly for it. You 
 speak of it as if it were scarcely as bad as a toothache 
 or a cracked toe-nail, but I can tell you that it often 
 claws a man's soul out of him. Yes, take my word for 
 it, Ben, the devil is an awful reality ; and since he first 
 hoofed his way into our world to breed evil and mischief, 
 
 I"
 
 66 JN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 he has never hit upon any scheme that has helped him 
 so much as teaching mankind to drink to excess. Grog, 
 from the still-worm, has enticed more poor souls to his 
 hooks than any of the other tempting baits he throws 
 out of his infernal galley. He has half hooked me 
 several times, and I daresay he thinks he will have my 
 poor miserable soul in his clutches on one of my pay 
 days." 
 
 "If I were you, Frank, I would never touch that 
 treacherous bait again," said Ben, in an earnest tone. 
 " I would not go within the smell of it." 
 
 " Ah, it is easy for you to talk, and, thanks to your 
 sober training, it would be easy for you to stand clear of 
 the thing, but it is not so with me. You talk of my 
 Gommon-sense being a stay or a safeguard to me, which 
 shows that you don't know m.uch about the clawing 
 power of the drinking fiend. Why, the most superior 
 sense in human nature is as useless to cope with him as 
 those rotten shrouds were to stay our mainmast in the 
 breeze we fell in with off the mouth of Cook's Straits, 
 There was a doctor in a ship that I sailed in once, as 
 clever a fellow as ever studied physic, and I saw him 
 raving mad from the effects of drink. ' Get me a glass 
 of gin, Frank ! ' he shouted to me on the night he died, 
 when I was keeping watch over him in his cabin. ' I 
 must not give it to you, doctor,' said I. ' You must — 
 you shall. For pity's sake give it to me, Frank ! ' he 
 cried. 'It will kill you, sir, and I shall be as bad as a 
 murderer,' said I solemnly. ' Give it me ! Give it mc 
 at once ! ' he shrieked, and I shall never forget his awful 
 look. ' If it sends me to hell I must have it.' What do 
 you think of that for a dying speech from a man who 
 was educated at a college .^ A really clever doctor, 
 who knew ten times more than either you or I do of the
 
 PR03nSES. 67 
 
 curious ins and outs of the human frame, and what is 
 good or bad for it. Don't talk to me about the power 
 of a drunkard's reason after that ! I tell you, Ben, mere 
 common-sense is no safeguard against the drinking 
 devil." 
 
 " It is very shocking ; and it makes me tremble to 
 think of it. Now let me tell you plainly, Frank, it is the 
 dread I feel lest you should get tipsy and let out all you 
 know about Dumby's affairs, that has influenced me to 
 speak to you in this way. I am very uneasy about it." 
 
 "I guessed as much, Ben, as soon as yon broached 
 the subject. But you needn't be afraid of me. If I 
 promise you on the word of a man that I will not taste 
 grog for a certain time, you may trust me safely. I have 
 made that promise twice in my lifetime, and I stuck to it 
 like a true British tar. Once I made it to the chaplain 
 of the Hazard, and at another time to the gunner on 
 board the Victoria Government brig, that used to be a 
 regular cruiser on this coast." 
 
 " But you must have broken your promises, Frank ; 
 for I have heard you say that you have been drunk 
 many times since you left the navy." 
 
 "Ay, hundreds of times, I am ashamed to say; but 
 I didn't break my word for all that. Twice I promised 
 not to taste grog for six months, and each time I kept 
 my promise faithfully. I was tempted on all sides by 
 my shipmates, some of whom made bets that I would 
 break down, but I held out to the last hour of the six 
 months — ay, to the very last minute." 
 
 " How did you get on during those months of total 
 abstinence } " 
 
 " Get on ! why like a ship with a fair wind and 
 smooth sea. I seldom thought about grog, and never 
 had any downright hard cravings for it until my time
 
 68 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 was nearly up. Then I begun to feel uneasy ; and as 
 soon as eight bells struck on the night I was free, I 
 broached a bottle of ship's rum and had a reg'lar 
 soaking, all that watch below got blind drunk and 
 fightable." 
 
 " And you felt miserable after you got sober again, no 
 doubt?" said Ben, with a sort of shuddering curiosity, 
 like listening to a tale of murder. 
 
 "I was a little queer next day, but nothing to 
 signify. One bottle of unadulterated rum wouldn't 
 make me shake much ; and my conscience was easy 
 about it because I had not broken my word. But I 
 have been miserable enough after a long spree on 
 shore ; and such misery as you cannot conceive of, 
 because you never had the least taste of it. It is not a 
 trifle that would make a man jump from the fore yard- 
 arm of a frigate into a rough sea, you may be sure." 
 
 " Did you actually do that, Frank 1 " 
 
 " I did so ; and the ship was at the time under 
 double-reefed topsails. I was at the lee earing, helping 
 to reef the fore-course, when I saw the devil sitting on 
 the stern-sail boom-iron close to me." 
 
 " Had you been drinking hard before that .-' " 
 
 " My word I had ! I spent forty pounds of prize 
 money in eight days, from Sunday to Sunday, and I 
 was not sober an hour all that time. When I went on 
 board again I was not fit for duty ; still I passed muster, 
 for I was a favourite with most of the officers. I had 
 an awful night of horror, such as I shall never forget if 
 I live till I am a hundred years old. The next day the 
 ship sailed from Port Jackson ; and a strong gale sprang 
 up the same evening. I was at my post on the yard 
 overhauling the lee earing, when the devil came beside 
 mc and whispered coaxingly, 'Heave yourself over-
 
 FRANK SIVIMS FOR HIS LIFE. 69 
 
 board, Frank, and you will get out of your misery before 
 the hands have done reefing the sail. Drowning is an 
 easy death — only a few struggling kicks and it is all 
 over.'" 
 
 " You fancied something said that to you, Frank ? " 
 
 " Well, as I said before, call it fancy if you like, Ben, 
 but the voice seemed shockingly real to me at the time. 
 A thought glared into my mind — like a flash-light — just 
 then, ' What is the short struggle of drowning compared 
 v.'ith the horrible palsy I feel in every limb, and blue fire 
 in my brain, and my conscience cursing me? I'll try 
 what death is like ! ' so I gave a spring and down I 
 went, just clear of the fore chains. Directly I splashed 
 into the waves I would have given the world to be on 
 board the frigate again, and I swam for my life. The 
 water roaring in my ears seemed to me like a thousand 
 fiends hissing at me, and I remember I howled like a 
 mad dog. The ship was luffed into the wind, a lifeboat 
 was lowered, and I was picked up more than half dead. 
 But the awful horrors 1 suffered for a week afterwards 
 would make your hair stand on end if I could describe 
 them to you. To be mopped all over with hot pitch 
 would be nothing to it. I should certainly have killed 
 myself, by some means, to escape from the torment 
 if I had not been closely watched. Oh what a time of 
 misery that was ! horrible ! horrible ! " 
 
 " It makes me shudder to listen to you, Frank. I 
 suppose you did not taste grog for a long time after you 
 got over that suffering ? " 
 
 " I did though. I took my allowance of two tots of 
 grog a day as soon as I came out of the hospital, and 
 would have drunk more if I could have got it. My 
 craving for it seems to be never satisfied when it is set 
 a-going."
 
 70 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA, 
 
 "Well, well ! the grog mystery puzzles me more than 
 ever," remarked Ben sadly. " One would think that 
 such horrors as you describe, and such a narrow escape 
 from self-murder — the most hopeless of crimes, ought to 
 have been a warning to you for the rest of your life. 
 Why, if a little idiot child were to burn its fingers at a 
 hot stove, it would have sense enough not to go near 
 the stove again." 
 
 "You are right there, Ben, And even a pig would 
 have natural gumption enough not to put its snout a 
 second time into a bucket of scalding hot skouse. Still 
 there are thousands of full-grown men and women in the 
 world to-day, and I am one of them, I am sorry to say, 
 who could not resist getting dead drunk if they only had 
 liquor enough at hand — ay, and they would keep on 
 drinking till they had the horrors. Often and often 
 I have cursed a bottle with all the curses I could think 
 of, and at almost the next minute I have put it to my 
 mouth and half emptied it at one draught. That's a' 
 sad fact. Heigho ! so it is with me, and there is no help 
 for it that I know of Poor old Frank Shorter is 
 doomed to be swamped by it, as millions of other 
 wretched souls have been. Poverty through life and 
 awful misery hereafter is my lot, or m.y fate, and all 
 through my unhappy fondness for grog." 
 
 "But you said just now that you could abstain from 
 it if you made up your mind to do so, Frank." 
 
 "I could for six months, Ben ; but I don't think I 
 could hold out longer, unless I were out of reach of grog 
 altogether, same as I am in this old craft." 
 
 " If you could hold out for six months, surely you 
 could do so for life, if you made up \'0ur mind to it, 
 iM-ank." 
 
 " There you make a mistake again, my friend ; and it
 
 ''WILL YOU TRY THAT EXPERIMENT?" 71 
 
 shows, as I said before, that you know nothing about 
 the gripping influence of the grog fiend on old topers. 
 If I say, on the word of a man, that I will not drink 
 anything intoxicating for six months, the tempter sheers 
 off for a time and leaves me alone, and I go along com- 
 fortably enough. I dare say he thinks to himself that 
 he is sure of me by-and-by, and he need not bother him- 
 self about me for awhile, and away he goes to look 
 after some fresh victims, perhaps some boys or girls who 
 are just leaving their homes to begin life, and they have 
 not been thoroughly trained to do without grog, or been 
 warned of its treacherous nature. But if I were to say 
 that I would not taste it again as long as I live, I 
 believe the fiend would be at me directly with all his 
 might, for fear he should lose me altogether, as he has 
 lost thousands of honest teetotallers ; and then I could 
 no more resist his influence than I could help going to 
 the bottom of the sea if I were to drop overboard with 
 a tiller chain coiled round my body. The devil is too 
 strong for a poor fellow like me to fight with." 
 
 " Suppose you promise me that you will not taste 
 grog again for twelve months, Frank. Will you try 
 that experiment ? " 
 
 " I am afraid to do it, mate. I would almost as soon 
 die as break my word to a friend, if I gave it seriously, 
 and I don't think the evil one would leave me alone for 
 a whole year. He would be at me at once, and perhaps 
 coax me to skulk ashore to-night to some of the drink- 
 ing shops yonder, and leave you lying here with your 
 broken leg ; and then I should never dare to show my 
 face to you again, and there is no saying what would 
 become of me. But 1 will tell you what I will do, Ben. 
 I promise you, on the word of a man, that I will not 
 taste grog until we have managed poor Dumby's affairs
 
 12 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. ' 
 
 all square. I can see that you are afraid of my breaking 
 out and spoiling that business for you, so I will set your 
 mind at ease on that score. Here is my hand upon it, 
 and you may trust me. We shall have that job over in 
 six months, I think." 
 
 "You faithfully promise me that you will not taste 
 intoxicating liquor until we have delivered Dumby's 
 parcel into proper hands, do you ^ " said Ben, taking 
 Frank's horny hand and gazing earnestly in his face. 
 
 " I do promise, Ben, on the word of a man ; and 
 sooner than break that promise I would suffer this right 
 hand of mine to be chopped off with a Maori's stone 
 hatchet."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife." 
 
 — Gray. 
 
 After the Wolf's cargo was discharged at Wellington, 
 as there was no charter offering that the captain thought 
 it would be profitable to accept, he took in ballast and 
 sailed again for Newcastle. 
 
 Ben was off duty that trip, and was confined to his 
 berth with his broken limb. He would far sooner have 
 been at work in the galley; and the crew all agreed that 
 his being on the sick list was unlucky for them, as the 
 negro cook, who was shipped at New Zealand, didn't 
 know how to keep his coppers and saucepans clean, let 
 alone know how to cook rations fit for English sailors 
 to eat. Frank continued to be very attentive to his 
 disabled shipmate ; and as the weather was fine during 
 the voyage, Ben was sufficiently recovered when they 
 arrived at Newcastle to be able to walk ashore with the 
 aid of crutches, which he made for himself out of a 
 couple of broomsticks. Ben and Frank took up their 
 abode at a seamen's lodging-house near the market- 
 place in Newcastle ; and each day when the weather 
 was favourable they would stroll down to the waterside, 
 and while away time in watching the operation of ship- 
 ping coal, by the steam cranes, on board the many large 
 ships and steamers that were then lying at the wharves 
 of that busy port. 
 
 73
 
 74 /iV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " I'll tell you what I am thinking, mate," remarked 
 Frank one day, as they sat on a spar opposite to a large 
 ship, which was being rapidly loaded. " Sitting here 
 and looking on, like rich owners, is ever so much easier 
 than if we w^ere trimming cargo in the hold of that 
 clipper, or even than if we were pickaxing coal from the 
 dark insides of those hills yonder, as many hundreds 
 of able-bodied fellows are doing this sunshiny morning. 
 No doubt it is nice to have a rest for awhile from the 
 slavish work of a foremast hand in a leaky old collier, 
 still a man soon gets tired of lolling about doing 
 nothing, especially when he sees everybody busy around 
 him. It isn't natural for an idle sailor to feel lively, 
 any more than it is for a fat pig to frisk about like a 
 young goat." 
 
 " I dare say you find the time more tedious than I 
 do, because I have my damaged leg to keep me from 
 getting drowsy," replied Ben. " But don't you think 
 you had better take another short voyage in the Wolf, 
 Frank } By the time you come back I shall perhaps be 
 all right again and fit for sea." 
 
 " No, Ben, I won't leave you while you are a cripple," 
 said Frank firmly. "Anyway, I wouldn't go in the 
 IFd-"/^ again, if they'd offer me the second mate's berth. 
 I have had enough of that old box, and I'll let some 
 other unlucky chap have a turn in my berth. But I'll 
 tell you what I have been thinking of for several days 
 past. You know there arc too many rowdy sailors in 
 our present lodging-house for it to be cither quiet or 
 comfortable ; besides, I don't see why we should live 
 within sound of those rumbling coal trains all day and 
 all night too, to make us fancy we are always in a roar- 
 ing gale of wind. We may just as well smell bush 
 flowers as coal dust — we have had enough of that grimy
 
 RAYMOND TERRACE. ' 75 
 
 stuff on board ship — and the singing of the wild birds 
 will be a rare sight more cheering to us than the ghastly 
 screeching of those locomotive engines, to say nothing 
 of other disturbances which we can't expect a big city to 
 be free from. I've been told that we can steam up yon 
 fine river for thirty miles, as far as Morpeth, and can see 
 farmhouses, and green stuff growing, all the way ; and 
 there are two other beautiful rivers forking off from the 
 Hunter, some distance up, which we can have a look at 
 if we like, for steamers ply up and down pretty often. 
 Now suppose we take a trip up the Hunter, and see if 
 we can find lodgings that will suit us better than the 
 noisy shop yonder, where wc have left our traps ? What 
 do you say, mate ? " 
 
 Ben cheerfully acquiesced in the proposal without a 
 word of argument ; so the next day they started by a 
 river steamer which landed them at the pretty township 
 of Raymond Terrace, about twenty miles from New- 
 castle. As the steamer screwed her way up the winding 
 river, they often expressed delight at the varied scenery 
 on either bank ; but soon after they had landed at their 
 final stopping-place, their admiration knew no bounds, 
 and they resolved that they would make that happy- 
 looking place their home for awhile. 
 
 Raymond Terrace is decidedly the prettiest town on 
 the lower Hunter River. It is situated close to the 
 junction of the Williams River with the Hunter. Its 
 name is somewhat misleading. The place certainly 
 looks less like a terrace in its improved state, than it 
 did when it first received its name, half a century ago. 
 Then the background was covered with trees and scrub, 
 and only the crescent-shaped foreshore of the river was 
 cleared. Viewed from the river the town has an inviting 
 appearance, especially to any one of homely tastes, who
 
 76 LV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 has escaped for awhile from the dust and din of the 
 busy metropoh's, and can appreciate a peaceful rural 
 retreat. As most of the traffic of Raymond Terrace is 
 carried on by way of the river, the streets, with the 
 exception of the leading thoroughfares, are covered with 
 grass, which adds to the beauty of the town as well as 
 to its quietude. The green hillocks in the background 
 have a very picturesque appearance. A few villa resi- 
 dences are to be seen half hidden in flower gardens 
 and orangeries, and some pretty churches complete the 
 landscape. The business parts of the town are nearer 
 to the river. 
 
 Ben and Frank had no difficulty in finding respect- 
 able lodgings, and they soon found that they had made 
 an advantageous change. There were many pleasant 
 walks in the vicinity of the town, and each day they 
 used to stroll about together, sometimes farther than 
 was good for Ben's weak leg. Their favourite walk was 
 to a grassy hill in the reserve, which commanded a 
 grand panoramic view of the country for a circuit of 
 more than twenty miles, with the rivers Hunter and 
 Williams winding their placid way, past many enticing 
 looking homesteads, with vineyards and orangeries, and 
 extensive fields of maize, lucerne, and other farm pro- 
 ducts. The cultivated land extended far away to the 
 base of the high mountain ranges in the distance, a 
 prospect that would delight the eyes of an English 
 farmer. 
 
 "Well, this is about the nicest place I've seen in all 
 my roaming on shore, in this part of the world," said 
 Frank, as he and Ben lay on the soft grass of their 
 favourite hill, one sunny morning. " I do think if I 
 mght be allowed to build myself a little bark hut on 
 this spot, I'd be content to live here all my days, and I
 
 ^ RESTFUL TIME. 77 
 
 should wish to be laid, after I am dead, in that peaceful- 
 looking cemetery in the hollow yonder, where the birds 
 are always singing and the wild flowers are always 
 growing, because nobody seems to meddle with them." 
 
 " Ah, that would be nice, Frank. No boatswain's 
 whistle to bother us, and no fear of green seas breaking 
 our bones then." 
 
 " You are right, mate. We should always be among 
 the smooth green grass, and could sleep without rock- 
 ing. I think I shall always remember the few weeks I 
 have spent in Raymond Terrace, as the most restful 
 part of my life ; and I don't think I ever fared so well 
 before. The new milk and eggs, and beautiful fresh 
 butter, and home-made loaves, and rice puddings, are 
 good rations. I could make a rare song about them, 
 that would do well to sing when walking round the 
 capstan." 
 
 " You ought also to remember the fruit — the grapes, 
 and peaches, and sugar melons, and oranges — there is 
 poetry in them too, isn't there, Frank ? " 
 
 " Yes, no doubt there is, Ben ; and we can refresh our 
 fancy with them when we are eating our hard biscuit 
 and fat pork at sea." 
 
 "And we won't forget these remarkably fine mos- 
 quitoes, when we want something lively to think of, 
 P>ank." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! They won't let us forget them this morn- 
 ing, anyway," rejoined Frank, as he whisked a few of 
 the stinging pests off his neck. " But it will be lucky 
 for us if we never get any worse backbiters than these 
 merry trumpeters." 
 
 " They are more stingy this morning than I ever felt 
 them before ; and I feel my conscience stinging me 
 more than usual, for staying here idling now that I am
 
 78 liV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 well enough to work ; and I am wasting your time also, 
 Frank. It is a week since I threw away my crutches, 
 so I have no longer a cripple's excuse to shirk duties. 
 The mosquitoes seem to be poking their horns into me 
 to make me start off." 
 
 " I believe that lazy sailors always get something to 
 stir them up and make them feel uneasy. As you are 
 able to walk now, Ben, perhaps we ought to make a start 
 out of this to-morrow. Our money wouldn't hold out 
 many weeks, careful as we are. I propose that we go to 
 Newcastle again, and try if we can get a ship to work 
 our passage to Melbourne ; then we must search for the 
 tin box which poor Dumby told you about — that's the 
 main thing we have to think of. After we have found 
 it we must get a ship for London, and deliver the box 
 to the person it is directed to. That's our course, as 
 clearly as I can see it. Let us go and square up for 
 our lodgings, and pack up our traps." 
 
 On the following day l?cn and Frank left their 
 snug quarters, where they had enjoyed themselves so 
 thoroughly, and returned to Newcastle. A few days 
 afterwards they got a working passage to Melbourne 
 in a collier barque, the captain of which had sailed with 
 Frank many years before, as an ai)prentice boy. On 
 their arrival at Williamstown he kindly gave 15en and 
 Frank a note of introduction to Mrs. ]31ake, a widow 
 lady, who lived in a little cottage of her own at Carlton, 
 one of the populous suburbs of Melbourne. Mrs. Blake 
 had a double-bedded room vacant, and she agreed to 
 board and lodge the two friends at a moderate rate. 
 They forthwith removed their chests from the barque 
 and took possession of their comfortably furnished 
 apartment. 
 
 " Here we are then, Ben, as snug as two sloops in a
 
 THE NEXT MOVEMENT, 79 
 
 dry dock. No turning out to-night to work the pumps 
 or to cobble up old stranded rigging," said Frank, as 
 he sat on his chest in their little room on that even- 
 ing after tea. "What is to be our next movement? 
 You are commander-in-chief, you know." 
 
 •' I think we ought, first of all, to go and try if we can 
 dig up this long-talked-of tin box, and we may as well 
 set about it directly. We have nothing else to do, and 
 it's a fine night for a walk. Do you know Fitzroy 
 Gardens, Frank I " 
 
 " Not I, mate. When I was in this part of the world 
 before, Melbourne wasn't much bigger than a Maori 
 village, and the country all around it was either bush 
 or swamp, so I am almost as much out of my reckoning 
 as I should be if you were to drop me down in the 
 middle of China or Japan." 
 
 " We can both speak plain English, Frank, so come 
 along. I dare say we shall find the gardens easily 
 enough. Where is Dumby's chart } We must have 
 that." 
 
 " I have the chart under the lining of my hat ; but I 
 tell you Fd rather go about this business by daylight," 
 said Frank, with a serious look. 
 
 " What are you afraid of ? " 
 
 " I am not afraid of anything that a man may fairly 
 see and grapple with ; but this seems to me like body- 
 snatching work. We don't know what is in the box. 
 It may contain somebody's murdered bones, and I don't 
 want to have anything to do with such things for love 
 or money." 
 
 *' Pooh ! bones indeed ! What queer fancies you 
 sometimes get in your head, Frank ! It is not a leaden 
 coffin we are going after. Dumby told me it was a 
 small tin box. I wish I had asked him what was in it,
 
 8o IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 but I daresay it merely contains private letters or some- 
 thing of the sort. I am not afraid to go for it alone, so 
 if you like you can stay here till I come back. Give me 
 the chart." 
 
 " No, no, Ben ; you shan't go by yourself if I know it. 
 Fair halves was our bargain ; and if I am to share the 
 profit of the job I'll share .the risk with you, whatever it 
 may be. If we should meet Dumby's ghost, I don't 
 suppose he will meddle with us, as we are doing his bid- 
 ding honestly. Hallo ! what's that row-about ? " 
 
 At that moment there was a sharp rapping at the 
 front door, with something which sounded like the 
 handle of an umbrella. The rapping continued until 
 the door was opened by the landlady, and then a female 
 voice was heard to exclaim, " Oh let me in, mother ! 
 There is an impudent man coming ! He has followed 
 me all the way from Spring Street." In another minute 
 there was a slight scuffling, and a man's voice was heard 
 in the front parlour, adjoining the room which Frank 
 and Ben occupied. 
 
 "I think there is a pirate come on board of us. Stand 
 by for a sea-fight," whispered Frank. 
 
 " Hush, Frank 1 Let us hear if our landlady wants 
 any help." They then overheard Mrs. Blake say, " You 
 have mistaken the character of my house, sir, and I 
 request you to go outside again." 
 
 " Aw — hope I don't intrude, ma'am," replied a mas- 
 culine voice, in the drawling tone which is affected by 
 certain fast men of the period. I saw this young lady 
 on Sunday, at the Crcmorne Gardens — aw — and I " 
 
 "Indeed you arc mistaken, sir. My daughter is 
 seldom absent from our church choir on Sundays, and 
 you never saw her at Cremornc at any time. Please to 
 leave my houbc at once."
 
 A PROWLIN.G RASCAL. 8 1 
 
 "Aw — a good girl to go to church regularly. And 
 this pretty chorister is your daughter, is she ? I should 
 like to hear her sing just now, — you have a piano, I see. 
 Aw — pray don't get out of temper, my good lady. I 
 only want to spend an hour or two in a quiet, social 
 way. Will you allow your servant to fetch a bottle of 
 wine from the hotel round the corner, or some brandy if 
 you prefer it," he added, drawing out his purse. 
 
 " If you do not leave my house instantly I will send 
 for a policeman," replied the widow resolutely. " How 
 dare you insult me in this way?" 
 
 " I shall be sorry to offend you, mother ; and I want 
 to please your daughter if I can, I wish she wouldn't 
 look so coy. If you knew who I am, you would be 
 proud to entertain me in your cottage. May I ask your 
 sweet daughter to tell me her name t What is it, my 
 dear } It ought to be a pretty name." 
 
 *' Leave my house this moment ! I insist upon it." 
 
 " Come, come, old dame ! you mustn't talk to me as 
 if I were a common loafer. I may put you into a house 
 twice as large as this if you are civil. Would you like 
 to be my tenant, pretty one } " 
 
 " Take your hands off my daughter, or I will shriek 
 for the police ! " vociferated Mrs. Blake, whose maternal 
 feelings were thoroughly aroused. " It is infamous con- 
 duct to force yourself into my house in this ruffianly 
 way. You would not dare to do it if I had a husband 
 to protect me. Such men as you are a disgrace to our 
 city." 
 
 " I'll go and punch that fellow's head," said Frank, 
 who had been standing with his fists clenched during 
 the exciting affair in the next room. " The prowling 
 rascal ! " 
 
 " Wait awhile, Frank. Let him go out quietly if he 
 
 G
 
 82 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 will. I think the old lady is a match for him. Hush ! 
 let us hear what the rogue says." 
 
 "Aw — it seems to me that I am not a welcome visitor 
 to-night, so I will go," said the man. " I wish you good- 
 night, mother. I won't kiss you, because you are so 
 snappish, but I will kiss your pretty daughter before I 
 go. Come, little pouting miss, give me one kiss. It is 
 no use resisting me, you must and shall." 
 
 From the widow's loud outcries for police, it was 
 clear that the m.an was again behaving rudely to the 
 girl. 
 
 "I can't stay here any longer and hear that villian in- 
 sulting two helpless women, so here goes to board him," 
 exclaimed Frank, as he opened the dividing door, and the 
 next instant the impudent intruder was lying with his 
 head under the table, having being knocked down by a 
 blow from Frank's hard fist. 
 
 " Pick yourself up, mister, and get out of this, or I 
 may knock you to pieces, for you've made me savage. 
 Out you go this instant, or you'll soon be sorry you didn't 
 make more haste. And perhaps you'll remember my 
 knuckles the next time you try to disgrace a respectable 
 home." 
 
 The man got up and aimed a blow at Frank with 
 a walking-stick, whereupon he sprang forward and 
 wrenched the stick from the man, and beat him with 
 it until he roared murder. Frank then pushed him out 
 of the house. 
 
 " There, go and lie down in the gutter," said Frank, as 
 he closed the door. " Don't cry, ma'am," he added in a 
 soft tone to the widow, who was in a state of great 
 excitement. 
 
 " I am very thankful indeed to you gentlemen. I do 
 not know what I should have done if you had not been
 
 A RARE START. 83 
 
 in the house," said Mrs. Blake, addressing her new 
 lodgers. 
 
 " If that fellow had known that you had a couple of 
 able seamen in your back room he would perhaps have 
 looked for his game to-night in some other preserve. 
 Cheer up, ma'am, there is no harm done. Don't fret 
 any more, my girl. Your tormentor will not come back 
 any more to-night, I'll engage. Hallo ! what's this ? 
 He has left his money-bag behind him, and I don't 
 think he meant to do it," added Frank, and at the same 
 time he picked up a purse that was lying under the 
 table. 
 
 "Throw it out after him, if you please," said Mrs. 
 Blake. 
 
 Frank opened the door to do so, but the man had 
 gone away. " He's off like a half-hooked shark," said 
 Frank, laughing. " What is to be done with his purse ? 
 There are several sovereigns in it. I should like to make 
 him swallow their value in physic. Here, missis, you 
 had better stow this money away in the coal-box or the 
 dust-bin, till he sends for it." 
 
 " I will not touch it," said Mrs. Blake, u-ith honest 
 disgust. " I think the best plan will be to send it to 
 the police-station directly, but I do not know who to 
 send with it. I am afraid to leave the house myself, for 
 my nerves are quite upset." 
 
 ** Don't worry about it, ma'am. My friend and I are 
 going towards Melbourne, and we will call at the police- 
 station and leave the money. We ought to have sent 
 the owner of it there." Frank then put the purse into 
 the breast-pocket of his coat, and he and Ben returned 
 to their room to prepare for their visit to the Fitzroy 
 Gardens, 
 • "This is a rare start off for our first night on shore.
 
 84 AV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 Ben. I wonder what will come next. It is fortunate 
 for the poor old lady and her daughter that we were 
 close at hand, or there is no saying what that wicked 
 rogue would have done, for such fellows have no more 
 consciences than cannibals." 
 
 " I quite pitied the poor girl," said Ben, softly. 
 
 " Yes, I thought you were pitying her all the while 
 the fight was going on." 
 
 " You didn't want any of my help, you know, Frank ; 
 and I was only sheltering the timid maid from chance 
 blows from the end of your stick, for you were laying it 
 about you like a flail. I felt it to be my duty to shield 
 her, and I'd do it again if need be." 
 
 " No doubt you would, messmate. But you needn't 
 look so serious over it. I was only joking you a bit. 
 It is natural for a young fellow to pity a pretty girl 
 more than he pities her mother, and sure enough I 
 didn't want your help to thrash that prowling chap. I 
 could settle with two such as he any morning before 
 breakfast. Though he is a great bull-headed fellow, 
 there is no more strength or stamina in him than there 
 is in a mummy or a stuffed Guy Fawkes. You saw how 
 he shivered and shook when we first popped into the 
 room. He is what you may call a regular grog-soaker, 
 Ben." 
 
 *' I don't think he was drunk, Frank." 
 
 "Perhaps not. Fellows like him don't often get 
 downright drunk, as I used to do ; but I'll warrant he 
 drinks as much as would poison me and you too. Any 
 one with only half a nose could tell that. Now then, 
 shipmate, get on your monkey jacket and we will go 
 and find the police-station first and foremost, and get 
 rid of this rascally purse ; and then we will go and 
 search for the tin box, which I hope is an honest con-
 
 CHARGED WITH ASSAULT. 85 
 
 cern, then I don't care a whiff what's inside it. I wish 
 it was a dayh'ght job, that's all." 
 
 Just then there was a loud knocking at the front door. 
 " Hallo ! has Mr. Bully come back for his change, I 
 wonder ? " said Frank, laughing. The next minute their 
 room door was pushed open, and in walked two police- 
 men, and the man whom Frank had so unceremoniously 
 ejected from the house. He had a wet bandage on his 
 nose. 
 
 "That's the ruffian, policeman. I'll swear to him," 
 said the man excitedly, and he pointed to Frank. 
 "That's the fellow. I charge him with a murderous 
 assault and robbing me of my purse." 
 
 " It is my duty to arrest you," said one of the police- 
 men, at the same time he collared Frank, while the 
 other policeman proceeded to handcuff him, with more 
 haste than tenderness. 
 
 " Hold on a bit, friends ! Don't gibbet your prisoner 
 before he is found guilty," said Frank, with honest bold- 
 ness. I confess I gave that man a punching, and he 
 deserved twice as much as he got ; but as for robbing 
 him, that's another matter altogether, and I deny it. 
 There isn't a bit of truth in that yarn, and the fellow 
 who accuses me knows he is dealing falsely." 
 
 The policeman replied by cautioning Frank not to 
 say anything that might criminate himself, and then 
 they led him off to the lock-up. He was there searched, 
 and the purse was found in his pocket. Ben followed 
 to the lock-up, and loudly proclaimed Frank's innocence, 
 but was told that he had better attend at the police-office 
 the next day, and say all he had to say in favour of the 
 prisoner. He returned to his lodgings, where he found 
 Mrs. and Miss Blake in great distress at the sudden 
 mishap which had befallen their lodger, through his
 
 86 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 kind interference in their behalf. Ben sat up till a late 
 hour that night trying to allay the anxiety of his land- 
 lady and her daughter ; and when he retired to bed, he 
 lay awake a long time thinking of the disgustingly 
 profligate disposition of the man, who could wantonly 
 insult such a well-behaved, modest looking girl as 
 Annie Blake.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " When Fortune means to men most good, 
 She looks upon them with a threatening eye." 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 Frank was taken to the central police-court, Melbourne, 
 the next morning, and charged with feloniously assault- 
 ing and robbing Mr. Adam Leary. The bruises on the 
 prosecutor's face were direct evidence of the assault, and 
 the finding of the purse in Frank's pocket seemed to be 
 equally conclusive proof of the robbery. Frank said, 
 as they allowed him to speak for himself, he would make 
 a straightforward story of the facts of the case. He 
 honestly confessed that he had beaten Mr. Leary, and 
 said he would be ashamed to call himself a man if he 
 had not punished him for his scandalous conduct to two 
 helpless v/omen ; but the robbery was all nonsense. 
 He then explained that he had found the purse under 
 Mrs. Blake's parlour table, after the prosecutor left ; 
 and he was, at his landlady's request, going to carry it 
 to the police-station, when he was taken into custody. 
 Ben's evidence corroborated Frank's statement to a 
 tittle ; nevertheless the bench, after a short deliberation, 
 committed him for trial, and as he had no substantial 
 bail to offer, he was forthwith sent to prison. 
 
 Ben was sorely grieved for the misfortunes of his 
 friend, though he felt a little comfort from Frank's 
 parting words, as he was being led out of the policc- 
 
 87
 
 S8 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 court, " Cheer up, Ben ! You know I am not guilty, 
 though they are walking me off to gaol. If I get fair 
 play I shall soon be at liberty again, never fear." The 
 concern of Mrs. and Miss Blake was truly pitiable to 
 behold, for one of the daily newspapers had incautiously 
 stated that the assault and robbery took place in a dis- 
 orderly house, into which the prosecutor had been 
 inveigled by a girl. If the gentleman who reported that 
 case could have witnessed the mental sufferings which 
 his unhappy version of it caused the widow and her 
 daughter, he would certainly have regretted that he had 
 not been more careful with his report. Many other 
 sensitive persons have winced, and some have been 
 almost ruined by a few damaging lines written by a too 
 hasty hand, to be set up in type for thousands of eyes 
 to scan. Public writers should use their pens with care 
 and judgment, and also with justice and mercy. 
 
 The anxiety which Ben felt for his unlucky shipmate, 
 was in some measure mixed with concern for his own 
 interest. In the first place, it would delay his previously 
 formed plans, as the assizes would not be held for nearly 
 three months, and with the utmost economy his money 
 would not hold out for that time, unless he could get 
 employment of some kind. He was bound, both by law 
 and conscience, to stay and give evidence for Frank's 
 defence — indeed, the idea of deserting his friend in 
 distress never once entered his mind. He had con- 
 fidence in the triumph of justice in a general way, but 
 in this particular case, he had troublesome misgivings 
 that the testimony of the wealthy prosecutor, together 
 with the train of correlative circumstances, would over- 
 balance the evidence of Frank's witnesses. The advis- 
 ability of employing counsel for his defence also occurred 
 to Ben's mind, but he had to abandon the idea, when he
 
 DISPIRITED. 89 
 
 was assured that learned counsel always expected their 
 fees in advance, and that they never gave credit. He 
 had encouraged hopes of pecuniary advantage in the 
 fulfilment of Dumby's mysterious commission, but how 
 to manage it in the event of Frank's conviction he did 
 not know. A living witness to authenticate his state- 
 ment of Dumby's death, and other particulars, was 
 essentially necessary ; in short, he had scarcely courage 
 enough to attempt to carry out the work by himself, 
 lest his own personal liberty might be imperilled ; for he 
 was wholly unacquainted with Dumby's antecedents, and 
 was also ignorant of the contents of the packet of manu- 
 script, and the tin box which he had not yet ventured 
 to search for. It was natural enough, under all these 
 circumstances, for Ben to feel dispirited. After ponder- 
 ing the matter over for several days and nights, he 
 resolved that he would seek employment on shore for a 
 few weeks, and thereby perhaps raise enough money for 
 Frank's defence at his approaching trial. But he soon 
 found, as many other men have done, that in the busy 
 city of Melbourne it is not always easy for a stranger to 
 find work, however able and willing he may be to do 
 it. Ben replied in person to several advertisements, but 
 without success. In most cases he was objected to 
 because he could not give references as to character. 
 He was growing more dispirited every day, and the 
 kindness and sympathy of Mrs. Blake and her daughter 
 were powerless to lift him above his present perplexities. 
 His money was gradually diminishing, and he saw no 
 prospect of ''earning enough to help his friend out of 
 trouble — to induce a merciful turn of the gaol key. 
 
 One morning Ben was earlier than usual at the news- 
 agent's shop, where he always went to look over the 
 newspapers. He had glanced down the list headed
 
 90 AV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 "servants wanted," and had taken the address of two 
 persons who wanted " a sober young man," when his 
 eye caught sight of an advertisement as follows :— 
 " Henry Gordon Marshall. You are most affectionately 
 entreated to return to your home without delay. A 
 death has taken place in the family. No obstacles nov^^ 
 exist. A cordial welcome awaits you. A liberal reward 
 will be paid to any person, furnishing information of the 
 above-named gentleman to Mr. Blackstone, solicitor, 
 Temple Court, Melbourne." 
 
 •' Henry Gordon Marshall ! " ejaculated Ben. '' It 
 strikes me that's the name written in poor Dumby's 
 Bible. I am almost certain of it, but I can soon see." 
 He forthwith hastened back to his lodgings, took the 
 Bible from his box, and sure enough there was written 
 on the fly-leaf, " Henry Gordon Marshall. From his 
 mother, Emily Marshall, Newby Hall." 
 
 The effect on Ben's spirits was almost marvellous ; 
 he fancied he had ready money within his grasp for the 
 information he could give, and he would be able to 
 engage counsel learned and clever enough to get Frank 
 out of his difficulty. His countenance was so much 
 brighter than usual when he sat down to breakfast, that 
 Mrs. Blake said she hoped he had heard of a situation 
 that would suit him. 
 
 " No, Mrs. IMake, I have not been so fortunate in that 
 way, but I have something else in view, which I cannot 
 explain to you now ; perhaps when I come home to 
 dinner I may be able to tell you some cheering news. 
 I feel more hopeful at present than I have felt for many 
 days past. If I can get poor Frank out of gaol I shall 
 be happy." 
 
 Soon after ten o'clock Ben entered the outer office of 
 Mr. Blackstone, and asked to see the head of the house.
 
 MANNERS OF MEN OF POSITION. 91 
 
 " What is the nature of your busniess ? " inquired a 
 gentleman, who Ben supposed was the managing clerk. 
 
 " I wish to see Mr. Blackstone on a private matter, 
 sir." 
 
 "Then please to step into the ante-room and wait 
 till he is disengaged." 
 
 Ben walked into a sort of lobby, where there were two 
 other persons waiting their turn to enter the room, with 
 an inscription on the door, " Mr. Blackstone's office." 
 Ben took a seat and waited until those persons had gone 
 into the room, and in the meantime another client came 
 in — a bustling, important-looking personage — who, when 
 the door again opened, pressed his way into the office, 
 without deigning to notice Ben's respectful remark, " It 
 is my turn to go in^ sir." Presently a fresh client stepped 
 into the lobby — a smirky-faced old man. 
 
 " It is your turn to go in next, I suppose ? " he said to 
 Ben, with a look of fatherly interest. 
 
 " Yes, sir, it is ; and it was my turn to go in before 
 that last gentleman pushed past me. I told him so, but 
 he took no notice of me." 
 
 "Ah ! hustled in out of his turn, did he ? It was not 
 fair of him ; at any rate he might have asked you to 
 give way for him, as he was perhaps in a hurry. Civility 
 costs nothing. I merely wish to say two words to Mr. 
 Blackstone," added the smirky-faced client, edging into 
 the recess of the doorway. I have only one sentence to 
 say — not more, if you will allow me." 
 
 " Well, I think you ought to wait till I come out, sir." 
 
 " Don't be vexed ; I'll not be half a minute." 
 
 In went the speaker to the lawyer's office, leaving Ben 
 to reflect on the manners of some men of position, which 
 he thought was not much more refined than that of 
 common sailors in the forecastle of a collier. In about
 
 92 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 twenty minutes the wheedling old fellow came out 
 again, and laying his hand on Ben's shoulder he said : 
 
 " I have exercised your patience too much, I fear ; 
 but could not help it. My business took longer than I 
 told you it would. You can go in now ; Mr. Blackstone 
 is quite disengaged." 
 
 Ben walked into the office, and briefly informed a 
 gentleman who was sitting behind a writing-table, that 
 he had called to give some information respecting the 
 late Mr. Henry Gordon Marshall. 
 
 " Oh indeed ! Take a seat, please. Pray what infor- 
 mation can you give me of Mr. Marshall ? Do you 
 know that gentleman .-• " 
 
 " I did know him, sir. I sailed with him in the same 
 vessel to New Zealand ; and I was with him when he 
 died." 
 
 " Are you sure you are not mistaken ? " • 
 
 " Quite sure, sir. I can prove every word I say to be 
 true." 
 
 " Pray what is your name .'' " 
 
 Ben told his name, and the lawyer wrote it down, and 
 then asked him to tell all he knew about the gentleman 
 advertised for. " Stay, not quite so fast, Mr. Bruce, I 
 wish to write down your statement verbatim'^ Ben 
 then slowly and carefully gave the lawyer a true account 
 of all he knew of Mr. Marshall, alias Dumby, during his 
 lifetime, and of his dying request to him to deliver the 
 packet of manuscript to the person to whom it was 
 directed. Ben reserved only the matter of the tin box, 
 which he thought he had better not mention at present. 
 
 "Where is the packet which you say Mr. Marshall 
 entrusted to your keeping for the time being.''" Mr. 
 Blackstone asked, with an eagerness which for a moment 
 contrasted with his previous cool, cautious bearing.
 
 MR. BLACKSTONE CROSS-EXAMINES BEN. 93 
 
 " I have it locked up in my box at my lodgings. It 
 is safe enough, sir." 
 
 "You must bring it to me without delay. Perhaps 
 it will be more convenient for you if I send my clerk 
 with you to your lodgings. Please to tell me where you 
 are living." 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Blackstone, but I solemnly promised 
 the late Mr. Marshall that I would not deliver the 
 packet into any other hands than the person whose 
 name is written on its cover, and I would not break my 
 word for any consideration. A promise made to a dying 
 man ought to be sacredly kept." 
 
 " Oh, that is your view, is it } Just so— em— er— 
 then will you tell me the name of the person you are 
 going to give the parcel to ? " 
 
 " I cannot think of the name at present," said Ben 
 after a minute's reflection, "but I will bring you the 
 name and address if you wish," 
 
 " Yes — by all means. Was there any witness of Mr. 
 Marshall's death, besides yourself t Do you know where 
 to find any of the crew of the vessel that you sailed in — 
 the Wolf, I think you said it was t " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; my shipmate, Frank Shorter, sewed Mr. 
 Marshall up in his hammock, and helped to lift him on 
 deck and launch him overboard." 
 
 " Oh, I am glad you have a witness to that fact. 
 Where is he to be found ? " 
 
 " He is now in Melbourne gaol, I am sorry to say, 
 sir." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! in gaol, is he } Then he is not a very 
 reputable witness, I fear." 
 
 " Yes, he is, sir, asking your pardon. You may 
 believe what he says as much as you seem to believe in 
 me. He is as honest a man as I ever met with."
 
 94 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " Will you tell me what crime your honest friend was 
 imprisoned for ? It possibly may be something that is 
 not of a very flagrant nature. I should like to know." 
 
 Ben then gave a faithful account of Frank's assault 
 on Mr. Leary, and expressed his earnest wish to procure 
 counsel for the defence of his friend, who was quite 
 innocent of the robbery with which he was charged, as 
 two respectable ladies could testify. Mr. Blackstone 
 sat and listened with a grave face. He then cross- 
 questioned Ben at some length ; but finding that he 
 could not get any further information from him re- 
 specting the late Mr. Marshall, he took down Frank's 
 name in full, also Ben's name and address, and bade 
 him call at the office the next day at noon. 
 
 Ben strolled homeward in a meditative mood, and 
 less hopeful than when he set out a few hours before. 
 He had had no previous experience with law or lawyers, 
 and in his conscious innocence he wondered that Mr. 
 Blackstone could not believe a plain straightforward 
 statement of facts, which' was clear as large print. He 
 did not reflect that he was a stranger to the lawyer, and 
 that it was only reasonable and prudent for a professional 
 man to receive his statements cautiously, and to be on 
 his guard against imposition. Ben had too sanguinely 
 hoped that upon his giving the information which the 
 advertiser asked for, he would have received the liberal 
 neward promised, and which he hoped would have 
 been enough to pay a learned counsel for Frank's 
 defence, and perhaps leave a trifle over for current 
 expenses. He was sorely disappointed. In his dejec- 
 tion he again lamented that he had ever set a foot on 
 board the JVo//, from which ill-considered act had 
 resulted such a succession of mishaps, including broken 
 bones. Then his thoughts flew back to the memorable
 
 THOUGHTS OF HOME. 95 
 
 Friday when he ran away from his grandmother's home 
 to go to sea, and he dated his run of ill-luck from that 
 very day and to that act of filial dishonour. Then with 
 softened feelings he recalled the peaceful days he spent 
 in the pretty village on the Hunter River — the most 
 enjoyable period of his life, and he wished he had 
 stopped there and hired as a labourer in one of the 
 vineyards, or as second mate in the ferry punt. He 
 would then have escaped the trouble and disgrace he 
 had since suffered, and his kind messmate would now 
 be a free man, instead of lying in gaol, in dreadful 
 uncertainty whether or not he would be hanged or 
 imprisoned for life, for attempted murder. Many older 
 and wiser men than Ben have wasted time and worried 
 their hearts, by lamenting over irremediable acts, or in 
 dreading troublesome contingencies which fear and 
 fretting could not possibly avert. Mrs, Blake noticed a 
 change in Ben's manner when he went home to dinner, 
 but she considerately abstained from asking him any 
 questions, and he did not volunteer any information. 
 
 Punctual to the appointed time, Ben entered the 
 office next day, and bowed respectfully to Mr. Black- 
 stone. " Good-morning to you, Mr. Bruce. I am busy, 
 but please to take a seat," said the lawyer, who was 
 really as anxious as Ben was for the interview. " Let 
 me see, it is on the late Mr. Marshall's affairs that you 
 have called — ^just so. Oh, let me tell you first of all that 
 I have seen your friend in Melbourne gaol, and he 
 has told me the particulars of his case, which I have 
 made some notes of, as I may be able to help him at 
 the approaching trial. But I find he is charged with 
 aggravated assault and robbery : very serious charges 
 indeed — exceedingly so." 
 
 " Yes, sir, but as I told you before, he is innocent of
 
 96 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 the robbery as I am ; and as for the assault, it was 
 perfectly justifiable, as you would say if you knew all 
 about it. It is very kind of you to visit him, sir, and I 
 am much obliged to you." 
 
 " By the way, Shorter said something to me about 
 a box as well as a parcel, that the late Mr. Marshall 
 entrusted to your care." 
 
 " His box, or sea-chest, was landed at Wellington, sir, 
 by order of the captain of the Wolf. I saw it put into 
 the police boat." 
 
 " I do not mean his sea-chest, Mr. Bruce, though 
 we must of course see after that, and I will make a note 
 of it. Your friend in the gaol told me that you have a 
 small tin box in your possession, which belonged to the 
 deceased gentleman." 
 
 " That is a mistake, sir. I have not seen the box." 
 
 " From the discrepancy between your statement and 
 that of your associate, it is very reasonable that I should 
 begin to suspect you both," said Mr. Blackstone, with a 
 searching look at Ben's face, which certainly did not 
 index a deceitful nature, as the lawyer was physio- 
 gnomist enough to know. 
 
 " I will tell you honestly and plainly all I can tell 
 you in this matter, sir; and if you suspect me of de- 
 ceit I cannot help it. The late Mr. Marshall told me 
 where I should find a small tin box, but he did not even 
 hint to me what it contained. On the evening that my 
 friend got into trouble, we were going out to search 
 for the box in the spot where I was directed to look for 
 it." 
 
 " Oh, I see ; you have not actually got the said box in 
 your possession, but you know where it is. Is that 
 what I am to understand ? " 
 
 " I know somewhere about the spot that Mr. Marshall
 
 MR. BLACKSTONE PERPLEXED. 97 
 
 said the box is buried, but I have not yet dug for it. I 
 have not had a chance to do so." 
 
 " Have you any objection to tell me where that spot 
 is ? " 
 
 *' I dare not tell you, sir." 
 
 " That is strange ! you * dare not tell ' ! Pray explain 
 why. It strikes me you will have to tell all about it, 
 Mr. Bruce." 
 
 *' This is all the explanation I can give you, sir. Mr. 
 Marshall, with his dying breath, made me solemnly vow 
 that I would deliver the parcel and the tin box into 
 the hands of a certain gentleman in England ; and he 
 hinted that his ghost would visit me if I broke faith. 
 No persuasion or threats will make me run the risk of 
 being troubled in that way. The safest and honestest 
 plan is to keep to my word ; and that I mean to do." 
 
 " You are afraid of a ghost, and that is why you will 
 not tell all you know in this matter? Is that it?" 
 asked the lawyer, and he smiled incredulously. " One 
 would not fancy from the look of you that you are so 
 superstitious." 
 
 " I wish to be honest and truthful, sir," replied Ben 
 with respectful firmness. " I have told you all that I 
 actually know at present. I am not sure that I can find 
 the tin box, but if I do find it I will tell you that I have 
 done so, though I cannot agree to give it up to you. I 
 made a solemn pledge to a dying man, and I own that 
 I am afraid to break that pledge. If that is being super- 
 stitious, I am not ashamed of it." 
 
 Mr. Blackstone sat for a few minutes rubbing his chin 
 and seemingly in perplexing cogitation. Presently he 
 said, " If I procure responsible bail for this man, Frank 
 what's-his-name, in gaol, will you deposit with mc the 
 said tin box and the parcel of manuscripts, as a guaran- 
 
 H
 
 98 /iV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 tee of good faith, upon my giving you an assurance 
 that they shall not be opened or tampered with in any 
 way ? " 
 
 " I dare not do that, sir. I have vowed that I will 
 not give the things up to any one save the person to 
 whom they arc directed, and I will faithfully keep my 
 vow, if I live. I would gladly do anything in my 
 power to get my friend out of gaol, for I can hardly 
 fulfil what I have undertaken to do without his help ; 
 but if I cannot get him bailed out by any other means 
 than by breaking my oath, he must stay where he is 
 and take his chance. He would rather stay there, I am 
 sure, than that I should get him out by dishonourable 
 means. I have no fear for him if he gets fair play ; and 
 if I can get counsel for his defence I will do it. I 
 should perhaps be working to earn money with that 
 object, just now, if I had not seen your advertisement 
 and called upon you. I cannot afford to waste my time, 
 sir." 
 
 The decisive tone in which Ben spoke influenced Mr. 
 Blackstone's feelings — or apparently so, for he looked 
 more sympathising than before. He said, in a softer 
 mood, that it would indeed be hard for an innocent man 
 to remain in gaol for want of a friend to bail him out ; 
 and after a little more consideration, he promised, if Ben 
 would pledge his word of honour that Frank would not 
 abscond before his trial, that he, Mr. Blackstone, would 
 personally be bail for him ; and not only so, but he 
 would find a clever barrister to conduct his defence. 
 His own conviction was that Shorter was an honest 
 man, though perhaps impetuous or hot-tempered. 
 
 "If you had seen the provocation Shorter received, 
 you would not wonder at his warmth of temper," said 
 Ben. " To see two helpless women cruelly insulted by
 
 FI?AJVA"S RELEASE. 99 
 
 a brutal fellow, was more than his English blood could 
 tamely bear. If Frank had not punished him I cer- 
 tainly would have done it." 
 
 ." The prosecutor is well known in the city, Mr. Bruce, 
 and that fact will be much in favour of your friend. 
 You may depend I will do all in my power for him ; 
 and I shall be glad also to be of any further service to 
 you while you are in Melbourne. Perhaps you will like 
 to step with me. I will see if I can get Mr. Shorter 
 liberated this afternoon." 
 
 Ben gladly accompanied Mr. Blackstone in a cab to 
 som.e law-court, where certain legal forms were gone 
 through, and soon afterwards Frank was released from 
 prison, and returned home with Ben to their lodgings, 
 where they received a real motherly welcome from Mrs. 
 Blake, and a modest sisterly smile of gladness from her 
 amiable daughter, which was as enlivening to Ben's 
 heart as sunshine is to a caged bird.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Her modest looks the cottage might adorn ; 
 Sweet as the prUnrose peeps beneath the thorn." 
 
 — Goldsmith, 
 
 It is not often that two sailors on their first landing in 
 a strange city meet with such a comfortable home as 
 Ben and Frank were recommended to by the good 
 captain of the barque in which they voyaged from New- 
 castle. And I would here remark that if other ship- 
 masters were to take the pains to recommend suitable 
 lodgings to the sailors who are leaving their ships, there 
 would be less scope for the nefarious practices of crimps 
 —those artful characters that are to be found in every 
 port in the civilized world. For reasons which will 
 subsequently appear, it is necessary for me to give some 
 particulars of the earlier history of Mrs. Blake and her 
 amiable daughter, which may help the reader to form a 
 fair estimate of their social and moral qualities. 
 
 Mrs. Blake arrived in Victoria about ten years before 
 Ben first saw her, with her late husband and their only 
 child, Annie, who was then about seven years of age. 
 Mr. Blake was a carpenter and builder, and he had at 
 one time a good jobbing connection in the village of 
 Hopley, where he was born, and which was about the 
 centre of the hop cultivation in Sussex, England. Jkit 
 glowing accounts of the rich gold-diggings in Australia 
 reached his village, and for awhile threatened to dc-
 
 THE SEARCH FOR GOLD-DUST. rot 
 
 populate it. A man who went from Hopley to Victoria 
 two years before had dug up a moderate size nugget 
 of gold at Bendigo, and his letter to his father, describ- 
 ing the happy, independent life of a gold-digger, and 
 the high wages that everybody was then earning in the 
 colony, was published in the Hopley Gazette, and pro- 
 duced quite a rage for emigration. Several families 
 started for Melbourne by the first ship, and after awhile 
 Mr. Blake was tempted to break up his home and pre- 
 pare to try his future in the land of gold. His aged 
 father was sorely averse to his going abroad, and strove 
 to dissuade him from the step. 
 
 " Alick, my son ! " said the old man, with a quavering 
 voice, when his opinion was asked about the contem- 
 plated movement, " Alick, my son ! while you are doing 
 well in your native place, keep to your post. Let others 
 go and search for gold-dust who have not steady work 
 to do at home, but do you stay here and be content to 
 pick up silver coin slowly but surely. That's my advice 
 to you, Alick, and I fear you will go wrong if you 
 slight it." 
 
 The old man did not cease to try all the power of 
 his rustic logic to persuade his son that his post of duty 
 was in his native village, where he had an increasing 
 business which enabled him to keep a comfortable home 
 over his head and pay for the education of his children, 
 and also to put by a few pounds every year for the 
 probable requirements of old age ; moreover, where he 
 had an office of honour and usefulness as leader of the 
 choir in the parish church. But Alick had read so 
 many bedazzling accounts of sudden fortunes being 
 made at the goldfields, that his mind could no longer 
 bend to the slow work of patching outhouse roofs, 
 and other little odd jobs which came within his routine
 
 I02 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 as the master carpenter and joiner of the village. He 
 determined to emigrate. So he sold the most bulky of 
 his household eflfccts, and packed up the rest as personal 
 baggage. He bade adieu to the village choir, in which 
 he had taken such pleasure and pride for many years ; 
 he took a sorrowing farewell of his father and other 
 relatives, and soon afterwards sailed from London in a 
 clipper ship bound for Melbourne direct. 
 
 When Alick stood beside his grief-stricken wife on 
 the deck of the ship, far at sea, and saw the remains of 
 his only son, a promising lad of twelve years old, com- 
 mitted to the deep, his old father's earnest entreaties 
 came to his mind, and he wished he had not left 
 home. And when the ship struck upon the rocks on 
 King's Island in Bass Straits, and he saw all his worldly 
 effects scattered to the waves, and his wife and child in 
 danger of being whirled to death in those merciless 
 breakers, he again recalled his father's words, and men- 
 tally owned that he had missed his way and run out of 
 the path of duty, which is always the path of safety. 
 He was sorry he had slighted parental counsel. Many 
 others have unwisely given up their comfortable homes 
 and steady employment, and emigrated to Australia or 
 elsewhere, and have had sorrowful reason to regret that 
 they gave up a certainty for an uncertainty. Some of 
 them have never found a comfortable home acfain. 
 
 Mr. Blake landed in Melbourne with his wife and 
 (laughter, but without any luggage, and thankful were 
 they all that their lives were spared. He had a few 
 sovereigns, which he had barely time to take from his 
 chest before the ship filled with water. He was there- 
 with enabled to furnish two rooms and buy necessary 
 clothing for his family and a few tools for himself He 
 had a strong, healthy body, and a willing mind, so he
 
 THE COTTAGE ON FIRE. 103 
 
 soon found work at his trade. His wife also got work 
 at shirt-making from a warehouse in Flinders Street, 
 and by careful management they were able to save 
 money, for wages were high and work was plentiful. 
 After a while they bought a plot of ground at North 
 Melbourne, and erected a small wooden house on it. It 
 was certainly a rough dwelling compared with their late 
 home in England, but they were contented in it, and 
 hoped by degrees to add to its comfort and conveni- 
 ences. 
 
 The disastrous fire which destroyed so many small 
 houses at North Melbourne a few years ago may per- 
 haps be remembered by some of my readers. When 
 that mishap occurred, Alick was roofing an iron shed 
 in Elizabeth Street — a rather warm job for a bright 
 summer day. He saw smoke arising from part of 
 North Melbourne, a safe distance, he thought, from his 
 own home, and he remarked to a fellow-workman be- 
 side him, "There is some poor fellow being burnt out 
 of house and home. Half an hour afterwards he saw 
 by the rapid spread of the flames that several buildings 
 were on fire, and his ov/n house was in danger, so he 
 dropped his tools and away he hastened to the scene 
 of disaster ; but he arrived there only in time to see his 
 little cottage blaze away into ashes, while he stood by 
 powerless to save even a barrowful of wood for fuel for 
 the morrow. It was a total loss. 
 
 " If you had taken the wise precaution to insure your 
 cottage, Alick, you might now have money in hand to 
 rebuild it," said Mr. Wood, Alick's master, on the day 
 after the fire." 
 
 " I meant to insure it after it was finished, sir." 
 
 " Yes, that is the way with a good many folks in the 
 world, Alick. They mean to do certain things that are
 
 104 I^ THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 of great Importance to them, but they put off the actual 
 doing till it is too late. Insurance companies will now 
 issue policies on small wooden houses at a moderate 
 rate, and it is foolish for any one to neglect to insure 
 his house against a fire risk ; for careful as he may be 
 himself, he cannot be sure that his neighbours arc not 
 careless. However, I do not wish to add to your dis- 
 tress by saying too much about a mistake which cannot 
 now be avoided ; you are sorry for it, I can see. A 
 quaker gentleman once said to an uninsured neighbour, 
 who was telling of his loss through the burning of part 
 of his premises, ' It serves thee right, friend Hooper. 
 Thou shouldcst have insured.' I won't say that it 
 serves you right, Alick, but I hope that you will guard 
 against a similar mishap in future. You may pick out 
 from the old lumber heap any stuff that will be useful to 
 you in rebuilding your house, and you may have the 
 remainder of the week to yourself, without a deduction 
 of wages." 
 
 Alick thanked his master for his kind consideration, 
 and he was going to the lumber yard to look out some 
 timber, when Mr. Wood called him back and said in a 
 pleasant tone, " I say, Alick, have you insured your 
 life ? " 
 
 " No, sir," replied Alick, somewhat abashed, for he 
 had heard his master read a clever lecture on " Life 
 Assurance," at the Mechanics' Institute a few weeks 
 before. " I have not insured my life yet, sir ; but I 
 mean to do it as soon as I can afford to pay the pre- 
 mium." 
 
 " It will not cost you much money as you are a 
 sound, healthy man, Alick, and I advise you to lose no 
 time in insuring for a reasonable sum, for the sake of 
 those who are near and dear to you. You little thought
 
 A LICK'S ACCIDENT. 105 
 
 yesterday morning that you would be burnt out of your 
 home before night, and life is as precarious as property. 
 Poor Adams, you know, was taken off without five 
 minutes' warning, and his wife and family are now de- 
 pendent upon charity. When he got into his cart on 
 Monday morning, he did not think that he would be 
 picked up and carried home with a broken back in less 
 than an hour afterwards. A defective buckle in his 
 horse's bridle cost Adams his life ; and I have known 
 a nail-head to cause a man to fall from a building and 
 cripple himself. Death is always lurking about us, and 
 the wisest of us cannot ward him off. We ought to 
 provide for those who are dependent on us as far as we 
 are able to do it." 
 
 Alick could not but be influenced by his master's 
 judicious remarks, and a few weeks afterwards he in- 
 sured his life in one of the Melbourne offices for ^^250. 
 It cost him only a few shillings a week, and he used to 
 say to his shopmates that it was worth twice the money 
 to him for the comfort it afforded him to know that if 
 he died suddenly his dear wife and child would be 
 provided for. Four years afterwards Alick had quite 
 recovered his loss by the fire, for he was a steady man, 
 and very careful with his money. He rebuilt his cot- 
 tage ; but soon afterwards he was offered a substantial 
 brick one at Carlton on easy terms, so he sold his 
 wooden cottage and gave the money in part payment 
 for the brick one. He was sanguine of being able to 
 pay off the balance in less than two years, by working 
 overtime and being extra saving ; but one day death 
 suddenly stopped all his plans, and hurried him to his 
 " last home." He was working at a building in Lons- 
 dale Street, and was helping to fix a heavy beam into 
 the middle floor, when the tackling gave way, the beam
 
 io5 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 fell on him, and he was crushed to death on the spot, 
 and one of his fellow-workmen also. 
 
 I will not try to depict the grief of his widow and 
 daughter when Alick's lifeless body was carried home 
 to them. Sorrow such as theirs cannot be adequately 
 described, and it is, perhaps, better not to meddle with 
 it. It was a severe trial for them ; but the belief that 
 he was always prepared for death was a solace to their 
 afflicted hearts which no other consideration could have 
 yielded. After a few months Mrs. Blake received from 
 the Assurance Office the amount for which her late hus- 
 band was insured. Therewith she paid off the mortgage 
 on her cottage, and had a little money to spare. Her 
 daughter got a situation in a milliner's shop in Collins 
 Street, and with their joint earnings they managed to 
 make a comfortable livelihood. 
 
 A visitor to Victoria cannot fail to be struck with the 
 tasteful style of the cottage architecture in most of the 
 suburbs of Melbourne. A mere glance at the neatly 
 kept flower garden in front of Mrs. Blake's ornate little 
 cottage would create a favourable impression of the 
 tenant ; but on stepping into her cosy front parlour any 
 person of quiet homely tastes would be apt to say in 
 the words of an old song, " If there's peace to be found 
 in the world, a heart that is humble might hope for 
 it here." Everything betokened order, cleanliness, and 
 comfort, which to some tastes arc much more inviting 
 than fashionable elegance. Without rudely presuming 
 to give ah inventory of the widow's goods and chattels, I 
 may remark that there were many evidences of feminine 
 taste to be seen on the centre table, and on a cedar stand 
 beside an old arm-chair was a large family Bible, which 
 plainly showed by its worn cover that it was not a mere 
 ornament in the room. In a rosewood frame, made by
 
 ANNIE BLAKE. 107 
 
 the late Mr. Blake himself, was a cleverly executed 
 crayon of a wrecked vessel, and beneath it was written : 
 " They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business 
 in great waters ; these see the works of the Lord, and 
 His wonders in the deep." And in another frame of 
 corresponding make on the opposite side of the room, 
 was a testimonial engrossed on parchment, expressive 
 of the lasting esteem and affection which the Hopley 
 Church choristers entertained for their respected leader, 
 Mr. Alexander Blake. A compliment was also paid to 
 his worthy wife. 
 
 In person, Mrs. Blake was as neat and tidy as her 
 house would lead any visitor to suppose her to be, be- 
 fore they saw her. She was approaching to fifty years 
 of age, and her hair was silvery gray. Her placid face 
 indicated something more than an even temper and 
 sound health. She. had a settled peace which religion 
 always yields ; and though it did not exempt her from 
 ordinary troubles, it enabled her to bear them without 
 fretfulness. Annie Blake was seventeen years of age. 
 Her face was not handsome, but there was more attrac- 
 tion in it than there often is in classically formed faces — 
 there was a speaking animation and a sweet expression, 
 which indicated a sympathising nature and a cheerful 
 temper. Her figure was graceful, and her modest style 
 of dress showed that simplicity or artlessness was one 
 of her leading characteristics. She had a voice clear as 
 a bell bird, and it was distinguishable from all the other 
 voices in the church choir. Had it been highly cultivated 
 it might have yielded her better remuneration than she 
 received at Madame Fleur's millinery shop. That sug- 
 gestion was once made to her by a professional lady, 
 but her mother expressed such a decided objection to it 
 that Annie was thereafter silent on the subject. " If you
 
 io8 IN THE DEPTHS OP THE SEA. 
 
 get less pay as a milliner, my girl," said her anxious 
 mother, " both you and I will have less anxiety ; and if 
 you never acquire fame or popularity you will be more 
 secure from the stings of envy. Rely on it, you are in 
 your proper sphere at present, my dear ; and if you 
 continue to follow the trustful example of your late 
 dear father, your way will be made plain through life." 
 
 The foregoing is a brief description of the inmates 
 of the home into which Ben and Frank were fortunate 
 enough to find lodgings. Mrs. Blake always made it 
 a study to do all she could for the comfort of her 
 boarders, but she felt a more than usual interest in 
 Frank and Ben, on account of the timely service they 
 had rendered her and the trouble they had incurred 
 thereby. 
 
 Very soon after the joyful return of her lodgers, as 
 mentioned in the preceding chapter, Mrs. Blake and 
 her daughter busied themselves in preparing an extra 
 substantial tea ; and when they all sat down to the 
 table together they were not a little amused at Frank's 
 graphic account of his experience in prison, and his 
 description of the characters he had met with there, 
 some of whom he said had been first-rate gentlemen, 
 and had perhaps never handled an iron spoon, or 
 slept without sheets in their beds, till they got into 
 Melbourne gaol. 
 
 "Oh, I cannot tell you how grieved I have been, Mr. 
 Shorter, that you should have got into such trouble 
 through your kindness to me and my girl," said Mrs. 
 Blake, with tears of gratitude in her eyes. 
 
 "Never mind, ma'am," replied Frank kindly. "Pray 
 don't grieve any more about it. I did my duty, and it 
 is my belief that our lawyer will show the jury that it 
 was nothing more than my duty, and I shall get off with
 
 LUCKY FELLOWS. 109 
 
 flying colours. If not, law is not justice, and women's 
 rights are not properly respected in this country ; and I 
 shall say as much as that to the jury if they convict me." 
 
 After tea was over, Ben and Frank retired to their 
 bedroom to put on their overcoats, prior to going out to 
 search for the tin box in Fitzroy Gardens. As Frank 
 was getting something out of his box he remarked, " I 
 believe that Mrs. Blake is the kindest old lady I have 
 met with since I left my mother's home. Just look 
 here, Ben ; if she hasn't been overhauling all my linen 
 while I was in gaol ! Everything washed and ironed, 
 and aired too, I'll be bound ! Well, well ! that is good 
 of her. There isn't a button or a button-hole but is 
 all staunch and ready for sea ; and all my old stockings 
 darned up as sound as new ones. Thank'ee, old lady, 
 I am much obliged to you ; I'll buy you a new thimble 
 before I leave the country, and something else, too, that 
 shall cost more than half a peck of brass thimbles." 
 
 " It was very thoughtful of her, Frank. I am sure we 
 are lucky fellows to get into such comfortable quarters, 
 and be so well looked after," 
 
 " Yes — very lucky indeed, especially myself," re- 
 sponded Frank, with a comical look. "Never mind, 
 mate ; we are lucky — you are right ; and I would run 
 the risk of being kept in prison for life to save any 
 honest woman from the insults of that rich rascal, Leary, 
 or any other fellow of his bad sort. Ha, ha ! wasn't he 
 a real beauty in court, with his patched-up nose and his 
 starboard eye looking like a grummet-hole in a tarpau- 
 lin ! I could hardly help laughing before all the justices 
 and lawyers." 
 
 " He need not have troubled himself to swear to the 
 assault, his face was evidence enough. Now then, Frank, 
 if you are ready, let us be off. Dumby's chart of the
 
 no IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 gardens Is in my pocket. I have been studying it care- 
 fully, and I think I can pitch on the exact spot without 
 any trouble." 
 
 " I'm all ready, shipmate ; but don't you think we had 
 better buy a lantern as we go along ? I think a light 
 always helps a fellow's pluck." 
 
 "We surely don't want a lantern when we have a full 
 moon overhead. Wc should, perhaps, be mistaken for 
 house-breakers." 
 
 "Ay, I forgot that, Ben. Well, go ahead, and I'll 
 keep close alongside of you, whatever we meet with 
 of a mortal kind, and you must promise not to run 
 ahead of me if we fall in with Dumby's ghost, because 
 you know more of him than I do." 
 
 They told Mrs. Blake that they would be back in an 
 hour or two, and then left the house.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "By the pricking of my thumbs, 
 Something wicked this way comes." 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 "I SAY, Frank, why did you tell the lawyer anything 
 about this precious tin box that we are going to dig 
 for } " asked Ben, as he and his companion were walk- 
 ing towards the Fitzroy Gardens together. 
 
 " I have been expecting you to ask me that question, 
 Ben. I daresay you think I am a soft-headed old fellow, 
 and not fit to be trusted in this uncommon business of 
 ours. The plain fact is, Mr. Blackstone got the weather- 
 gage of me in a puff — as yachtsmen say ; but I'll take 
 care he doesn't do it again, cunning as he is. He asked 
 me no end of simple questions about poor Dumby, and 
 I answered them straightforward enough, for it is no 
 good trying to hide the truth — it will come out somehow 
 or other ; and of course I did not suspect any manoeuvr- 
 ing on his part. After he had cross-questioned me till 
 I began to get tired of it, I thought I would check him 
 a bit ; so I said, civilly enough, but with sailor-like spirit, 
 ' I launched my shipmate Dumby's corpse off the Wolf's 
 gangway, sir, and that is the last I saw of him. I can- 
 not tell you any more about the poor fellow if you 
 bother me for a month.' 
 
 " ' I don't suppose you saw any more of the unfortunate 
 man after you had sunk him to the bottom of the sea,'
 
 112 JN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 said the lawyer, ' but what became of his effects ? That 
 is what I want you to tell me, Mr. Shorter ; and I wish 
 you to speak out like an honest man who is not easily 
 bothered. Depend on it I shall get at the truth, whether 
 you choose to tell it or not.' 
 
 " ' I told you before, sir, that his sea-chest was landed 
 at Wellington in the pilot boat,' I replied. 
 
 "'And the other effects, of which your friend, Mr. 
 Bruce, told me, what has become of them } ' said he, 
 looking at me very suspiciously. 
 
 '"Oh, the tin box — leastways the paper parcel I mean,' 
 said I, checking myself, or trying to do it : and that was 
 how the secret came out, you see, Ben — innocently 
 enough on my part ; but the lawyer caught at the box, 
 like a barracuda biting at a bare hook. He asked me 
 again and again about it, but I stuck to it that I had 
 never seen it at all." 
 
 " That was true enough, Frank." 
 
 " Of course it was, mate. There would be no luck in 
 my sticking to a He. Now without wishing to boast too 
 much, I wouldn't mind backing myself against any full 
 grown fellow, either seaman or landsman, with short- 
 sword, cutlass, or single-stick, but I am not good at 
 tongue fencing with a learned lawyer. Still, though I 
 can't argue a point cleverly, I can stick hard and fast to 
 a simple fact. Mr. Blackstone tried, in his lawyer-like 
 way, to scare me into saying what would not be true, 
 until at last I got rather cross, and said that if I was 
 going to be hanged at the yard-arm directly I could not 
 tell him where the box was, nor what was inside of it, 
 and then he soon walked off; but I was vexed with 
 myself, for I knew I had let him know more than you 
 had told him about this concern that wc are now going 
 after— this mysterious tin box, good luck to it."
 
 FOUND AT LAST. 113 
 
 "Well, it can't be helped, Frank. We have neither of 
 us told a lie about it, for we have not seen the box yet ; 
 but we soon shall see it, I suppose, and I hope it is not 
 too heavy for us to carry away," 
 
 " I hope there isn't any wicked roguery in it, Ben, and 
 then I don't care about the weight of it But a small 
 tin box can't be much of a load for two sailors to carry, 
 even if it should be full of gold-dust, or quicksilver, or 
 any other heavy stuff. Yonder goes a car, Ben, so we 
 may as well ride and save our sea-boots. Car ahoy ! " 
 The car stopped, and they got into it and drove off. 
 
 Soon afterwards they entered the Fitzroy Gardens ; 
 and with the aid of their chart they found the elm-tree 
 near to which the box was buried. " This is the tree, 
 sure enough, and we have found it without much trouble. 
 Hand me your rule, Frank : we must measure four feet 
 due north. Let me see, yonder is the Southern Cross ; 
 so, allowing for variation, I think this is about the spot," 
 said Ben, after he had carefully measured four feet in a 
 northerly direction. " Out with your marlinespike and 
 chip up the ground — it's only a foot deep, I believe." 
 
 "Do you see anything?" Frank asked, while casting 
 a furtive glance around him before he went on his knees. 
 
 " No, there is not anything in sight. What are you 
 scared at, Frank ? " 
 
 " I don't want to see a ghost, that's all. I am not 
 scared at anything else. Keep a look-out, Ben, while I 
 go at it." Frank then took his marlinespike from his 
 pocket and began to chip up the ground, which was 
 rather hard owing to the continued dry weather. 
 Presently his tool grated upon some metal substance. 
 " Hullo ! here it is and no mistake, Ben ! If it should 
 be full of gold-dust, I vote that we stick to it. What do 
 you say, shipmate .-' " 
 
 I
 
 114 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 "Dig away, dig away, Frank. Let us have it out. I 
 am glad we have found it so easily. Poor Dumby was 
 right in his measurement." 
 
 In another minute Frank held in his hand an oblong 
 box, about nine inches in length and four inches in 
 depth and breadth. " Pooh ! it's only a tin of her- 
 rings after all," he said, in a contemptuous tone. "Any- 
 way it isn't heavy enough for gold or any other handy 
 metal." 
 
 " Put it under your coat, and we will see more about 
 it when we get home," replied Ben, as he scraped the 
 earth back into the hole with his foot. We have not 
 had much trouble in finding it, and I hope we shall find 
 the owner of it as easily. Is it heavy, Frank ? " 
 
 *' No, it is almost as light as a box of chicken's blad- 
 ders. Feel it, Bcn^ and carry it, too, if you like. I 
 shouldn't wonder if you suspect me of planning to run 
 away with it. I am downright ashamed of myself for 
 talking about sticking to it just now. I feci like a 
 wicked old thief. When my marlincspikc first touched 
 the box under ground, the swindling notion came into 
 my head all of a sudden, and my tongue let it out. 
 That was the devil's advice no doubt, and it shows how 
 close he always is to my elbow, and the need for mc to 
 be continually on the watch. I hope you will look over 
 that mistake of mine. Pen." 
 
 "All right, P^rank : I shall soon forget that you said it." 
 
 " Thank'ec, mate. 15ut in all honesty this may turn 
 out a lucky job for us. Dumby told you that it might 
 make your fortune, didn't he ? " 
 
 "lie said something to that effect, Frank, and I 
 believe him, too. 1 have since thought he was only 
 raving about this box, and that the parcel itself might 
 be some nonsense or other — poetry, perhaps, which he
 
 CASTLES IN THE AIR. 115 
 
 only would set any value upon ; but now I begin to 
 think there is business of great importance connected 
 with the whole affair. Perhaps Dumby was a runaway 
 son of some great man." 
 
 " Likely enough, Ben. There are lots of such comical 
 characters in this part of the world, worse luck. I once 
 met with the roystering heir to a Scotch baronetcy, at 
 Monganui, New Zealand, and he was pulling a whale- 
 boat for a bare livelihood ; and there were other young 
 bloods in the same place, who were getting their living 
 in a less honest way. Now suppose we should make a 
 couple of hundred pounds a piece out of this business ! 
 That isn't too much to expect ; do you think it is, mate.? " 
 
 "It is more than I expect to get, Frank ; but suppos- 
 ing we should be so fortunate, what would you propose 
 to do with the money } " 
 
 "1 was thinking that we might return to Sydney and 
 go partners in a coasting vessel. There was a big lump 
 of a schooner sold for ;^400, while we were lying at the 
 Grafton Wharf She would have suited us well for the 
 coal trade, say between Sydney and Wollongong." 
 
 " But I am not a bred sailor, you know, Frank. I 
 would prefer to start in some money-making business 
 on shore." 
 
 "The coal and wood trade would do us first-rate, 
 Ben. I have known several sailors to go into that line 
 and make money like winking. There is not so much 
 art in it as there is in some other trades or professions^ 
 I could saw up billet wood like a donkey-engine." 
 
 " But we might have a real steam-engine to saw it up, 
 Frank ; and I could drive that. Portable engines arc 
 to be picked up very cheap." 
 
 " A capital notion of yours, Ben ; and we might get 
 a small vessel, too, if our trade prospered. I could sail
 
 ii6 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 the vessel, and you could stay on shore and sell the coal 
 and wood that I brought to you. My stars ! I can see 
 how we may drive a roaring business in a snug and 
 quiet way." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! and perhaps drive our carriages soon, eh, 
 Frank ? " 
 
 " I don't want a carriage, mate ; but that is not im- 
 possible either, for old Tom Grimes, the coal merchant, 
 started a carriage. Fortunes have been made out of 
 coal, smutty as it is. Anyway, we must drive our coal 
 cart a long while before we think of riding in our car- 
 riage. After awhile you would, perhaps, be getting 
 married, Ben, and then I could come and sling my 
 hammock on shore when our vessel was in port. 
 Wouldn't that be nice and comfortable ?" 
 
 " My chance of getting married is a long way off," 
 said Ben with a sigh. " No doubt it would be comfort- 
 able, but there is no such luck for me." 
 
 " You needn't be so downhearted over it, Ben. I wish 
 I had as good a prospect as you have in that way. I 
 was noticing that nice little damsel at our lodgings at 
 tea-time ; when she asked you if your tea was to your 
 taste, she looked as sweet as sugar-candy at you, and to 
 tell you the truth, I fancied you had been saying soft 
 things to her while I was away in prison." 
 
 Ben pleasantly rebutted the charge, and then retorted 
 on his merry companion by hinting that the widow had 
 some special object in view in looking after iiis buttons 
 so carefully. Whereupon Frank laughed, and said that 
 he was doomed through life to " paddle his own canoe.'' 
 That sanguine forecasting of the future, or castle-build- 
 ing, as it is sometimes called, occupied them agreeably 
 until they reached their lodgings. Frank remarked, as 
 he unfastened the front gate, that they had not seen
 
 ARRESTED. 117 
 
 anything in the shape of a ghost, though he certainly- 
 expected to see one when he was digging up the box. 
 Just at that moment two poh'cemen, who had been 
 watching Ben and Frank, walked over from the oppo- 
 site side of the street and collared them both. They 
 were startled at their unexpected arrest, but offered no 
 resistance. 
 
 Great was the consternation of Mrs. Blake, on open- 
 ing her door at the sound of voices outside, to see two 
 policemen with her lodgers, and she very naturally had 
 misgivings as to their character, although they were re- 
 commended to her by her good friend Captain Briggs, 
 of the barque Majy. 
 
 " Tell us why you are making prisoners of us, mister," 
 said Frank to the police sergeant, as soon as he had 
 entered the house. 
 
 " I arrest you both on suspicion of having stolen pro- 
 perty in your possession. Show me what you have 
 concealed under your monkey jacket." 
 
 " I don't know what it is," replied Frank, and at the 
 same time he handed out the box from beneath his coat 
 tails. 
 
 " I must look inside your boxes," said the sergeant, 
 who forthwith entered their bedroom and turned out 
 the contents of Frank's chest, without finding anything 
 of a suspicious nature. He then opened Ben's chest, 
 and turned its contents on to the floor. Several articles 
 of clothing he tossed back into the box ; Dumby's Bible 
 he also threw back without opening it. He then took 
 up the parcel of manuscript which Dumby had roughly 
 tied up just prior to his death, and was about to open 
 it when Ben said, excitedly, " I warn you not to open 
 that parcel." 
 
 " What is inside it } anything that will explode ? It
 
 ii8 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 docs not look very dangerous, though it's precious 
 musty," said the policeman, as he smelt the parcel all 
 over. 
 
 " I don't know what is in it ; but it was put into my 
 hands by a dying man, and he intimated most solemnly 
 that his ghost would visit anybody who dared to untie 
 that string except the person to whom it is addressed. 
 I would be shot dead rather than open it." 
 
 " Oh, it is addressed to some one, is it ? I did not 
 see the writing before. Well, I don't want to open the 
 parcel, but I must take it away with me ; the ghost will 
 not object to that, I suppose, and if he does I can't help 
 it. Now then, come on ; it is my duty to take you both 
 to the lock-up, and I hope you will walk along quietly." 
 
 " I trust they have not done anything to afitect the 
 character of my house, policeman ? " said Mrs. Blake, 
 entering the room and looking very disconcerted. I 
 fully believed they were decent, respectable men when 
 I took them in, and so did Captain Briggs, I am sure, 
 or he would not have sent them to my house as 
 boarders." 
 
 " Don't distress yourself, Mrs. Blake," said Frank, 
 kindly ; " neither I nor my friend have done anything 
 that we arc ashamed of It is no use telling our story 
 to these policemen, for they dare not let us go even if 
 they had a mind to. We must go with them, and we 
 will go quietly ; but if the law only gives us fair-play, 
 you may depend on it we shall be back again to- 
 morrow, and then you shall hear all about it. Good- 
 night, ma'am. ]5en also said good-night, and they were 
 marched off between the two policemen, but without 
 being handcuffed. 
 
 After her lodgers were taken away, poor Mrs. Blake
 
 A.VNIE CONSOLES HER MOTHER. 119 
 
 was in a state of excitement painful for her daughter 
 to witness, and her fears helped her to surmise all sorts 
 of disagreeable consequences from her taking two 
 strangers into her home without more careful considera- 
 tion and inquiry into their characters. Annie said all 
 she could to console her mother, but it was some time 
 before her soothing words had any perceptible effect. 
 The present trouble was quite a new experience to the 
 honest old widow. 
 
 " We don't know who is who now-a-days, my girl. I 
 suppose it is because the goldfields have not been so 
 productive of late that there are more wicked rogues 
 in Melbourne than there used to be years ago, when 
 your poor father was alive. I don't know what is to 
 become of us if this affair gets into the newspapers 
 again and our character is ruined. It distresses me to 
 think of it." 
 
 " Pray do not trouble yourself so much, mother 
 dear ! " urged Annie. " I can hardly believe that these 
 men are dishonest, especially Mr. Bruce ; but even if 
 it should be proved that they are bad fellows, surely 
 no one who knows us will believe that we knew them 
 to be bad, when we took them in as boarders." 
 
 " My house has always been noted for its orderly and 
 respectable character. Such scenes as have occurred 
 here during the last fortnight have never before been 
 witnessed under my roof since I first came to the 
 colony, nor, indeed, when I had a roof of my own else- 
 where. But I don't know what to do to alter things." 
 
 " All's for the best. Don't you remember you have 
 said that, or something like it, to me, mother, when I 
 have been perplexed with some of my little fancied 
 troubles at the shop, but which have afterwards turned 
 out to be not troubles at all, but quite the contrary }
 
 120 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 And you have often told me that it was better to think 
 of something comforting than to worry about things 
 that I could not mend." 
 
 "Yes, that's true, my love. It seems as if I know 
 how to give advice better than than to use it myself. 
 It may be foolish to worry, but it seems as if I can't 
 help it just now. We certainly have had nothing to do 
 with those men's wicked acts if they have been guilty 
 of any, and I hope nobody will suspect us. If they 
 should do so, we know that we are innocent — that's a 
 comfort. Heigho ! " sighed the widow again, after a 
 few minutes' solemn cogitation. " Perhaps it is all for 
 the best, as you say, Annie. Those men might have 
 plotted against us in some dreadful way, and it's a 
 mercy they are taken to the lock-up before they could 
 mature their plans. Bruce may be a villain in his heart, 
 though he does seem so modest in his manner to us." 
 
 "Oh, mother dear, I really think you are misjudging 
 the poor men." 
 
 " Possibly so, Annie. I hope I may be mistaken. 
 But you must admit that I have had more experience 
 of life than you have. I don't think I shall alter my 
 opinion to-night, so we had better prepare for bed. My 
 head is aching badly, and I fear I shall not sleep 
 much."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it." 
 
 — Shakespem-e. 
 
 Nearly twelve months before the arrival of Ben and 
 Frank in Melbourne, Mr, Blackstone received a confi- 
 dential communication from a solicitor in England, 
 requesting him to cause a diligent search to be made for 
 Mr, Henry Gordon Marshall, who had absconded from 
 his home some time before, taking with him a large 
 amount in cash, and bonds or coupons of still greater 
 value. He had been traced to New York, and thence 
 to California ; but though there had been active agents 
 in that country on the look-out for him for many months 
 they failed to obtain a clue to his whereabouts, and it 
 was conjectured that he had made his way to one of 
 the Australian colonies, Mr. Blackstone was urged to 
 spare no expense in the search for the fugitive, and if 
 possible to recover the stolen property ; but for family 
 reasons it was desirable to prevent the fraudulent nature 
 of his acts being made public. 
 
 Acting on the advice of his correspondent, which was 
 accompanied with a guarantee for the payment of all 
 fees and costs, Mr. Blackstone commissioned one of the 
 clerks in his office to go in quest of the absconder. It 
 was not deemed advisable to employ a police officer, for 
 private reasons before hinted at ; moreover, Mr. Black- 
 stone preferred confining the manipulation of the whole
 
 122 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 affair to his own office. The clerk who was despatched 
 on the exciting errand was a brisk young man, of easy 
 address and accommodating manners; he had no domes- 
 tic ties to hold him back, and he accepted the post with 
 a readiness which will be understood by any one who 
 usually works at an office desk all the year round. 
 
 Mr. Sharp paid leisurely visits to most of the gold- 
 fields in Victoria ; and the particulars of his tour would 
 have made a thick volume, if he had been as much 
 disposed to go into bookmaking as some tourists are. 
 He visited many diggers' camps under various pretexts, 
 but he did not meet with any person corresponding to 
 the photographic likeness which he carried in his pocket- 
 book. He had reason to believe, however, that a man 
 somewhat like the absconder had been at Bendigo, and 
 also at Kingower diggings ; but the name of Henry 
 Gordon INIarshall was not known to any one that he met 
 with. After several months of unsuccessful searching, 
 Mr. Sharp returned to Melbourne, looking more like a 
 sunburnt digger or bushman than a city clerk. He was 
 preparing to start on another pleasant tour, to the New 
 South Wales goldfields, when a second letter was 
 received by Mr. Blackstonc from the solicitor in Eng- 
 land, informing him that owing to a death in the 
 Marshall family, the absconder, Henry Gordon Marshall, 
 became entitled to a large estate, which realized ;^6,ooo 
 a year from the royalty of its coal mines alone. It was 
 necessary that he should return to England at once if 
 living ; but otherwise, that proofs of his decease should 
 be sent home as soon as possible. Moreover, his return 
 was earnestly desired by the surviving members of his 
 family, who wished him to be assured that all past 
 misdoings would be overlooked — an encouragement 
 which is generally given to wealthy inheritors.
 
 MR. BLACKSTONE'S CONCLUSIONS. 123 
 
 In consequence of that fresh communication, Mr. 
 Blackstone advertised for the missing gentleman in all 
 the leading newspapers of the Australian colonies. The 
 advertisement had appeared for more than two months 
 in the Melbourne Argus before it met the eye of Ben, 
 under the circumstances I have stated. Mr. Sharp 
 secretly wished that Ben had been blind. He was 
 joyfully preparing to set out again for a free and easy 
 jaunt to the New South Wales goldfields, and he was 
 sorely disappointed when Ben first called at the office. 
 But Mr. Blackstone was glad to see such a promising 
 client, for he soon perceived the importance of the 
 information which Ben was possessed of. His first 
 glance at the young man's honest face assured him that 
 he was not in danger of being imposed upon by any 
 deeply laid trick. Ben's straightforward answers to the 
 questions put to him, showed an entire absence of 
 roguish cunning, and that he had an honest desire to 
 fulfil the task he had undertaken, as soon as possible. 
 Mr. Blackstone inferred that the parcel for which Ben 
 had such a mysterious regard, contained the valuable 
 documents which it was so desirable to regain possession 
 of, and he was naturally anxious to get it — nay, he had 
 mentally resolved that he n'ould get it ; but how to 
 proceed about it in a pacific way, so as to avoid 
 exposure, required much consideration and professional 
 ingenuity. It was highly gratif}'ing to know that ]^en 
 had an accomplice, or a living witness of the death of 
 Mr. Marshall, within such easy means of access. Mr. 
 Blackstone saw the advantage to be gained by an inter- 
 view with the prisoner ; so he decided to visit Frank 
 before Ben could possibly communicate with him. He 
 appointed noon the next day to see Ben again, and no 
 sooner had he left the office, than the happy lawyer got
 
 124 /^ THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 into a cab and drove full trot to the gaol. Ben, as he 
 walked homeward cogitating on the stirring events of 
 that morning, and on the personal benefit that might 
 accrue therefrom, had not the least suspicion that Mr. 
 Sharp was following him at a safe distance, in short, 
 that he was being closely watched. 
 
 Mr. Blackstone was too keen a diplomatist to tell 
 Frank at first the real object of his visit. He began by 
 inquiring into the nature of the charge on which he 
 was committed to gaol ; and stated that he had been 
 requested by a Mr. Bruce to procure counsel for the 
 defence. After Frank had expressed his gratitude for 
 the thoughtful kindness of his friend Ben, he told all 
 about the affray with Mr. Leary, and was incidentally led 
 on, by questions adroitly put to him, to state how and 
 where he first became acquainted with Ben, and that the 
 object they jointly had in coming to Melbourne was to 
 manage a little business for a deceased shipmate, and 
 then go to England to carry some things to the dead 
 man's friends. That admission was enough for Mr. 
 Blackstone to make many inquiries, without exciting 
 the suspicions of the simple old sailor ; and at length he 
 accidentally alluded to the tin box, which they had not 
 yet got possession of. But Frank soon perceived that 
 he had told a little too much, and then he began to be 
 very guarded in his answers, and to display something 
 like a dogged obstinacy, when he suspected that he 
 was " being pumped by the cunning lawyer." 
 
 After Mr. Blackstone's second interview with Ben, he 
 felt convinced that the said tin box contained the missincf 
 documents, but he was sure it was no use to try any 
 powers of persuasion to induce Ikn to tell where the 
 box was concealed. Nothing short of judicial measures 
 would soften such obstinacy, and he was doubtful if
 
 BEN AND FRANK TRACKED. 125 
 
 even the law itself could be applied to the case as it 
 then stood. Mr. Sharp was more hopeful than his 
 master, though he confessed that his own views differed 
 from the learned authorities he had referred to in the 
 office library. The case seemed to be surrounded with 
 difficulties, as cases often are to legal gentlemen, when 
 they seem to be as clear as daylight to non-professional 
 investigators. The missing documents were stolen 
 property, undoubtedly, and it was equally clear who 
 was the thief; but he was dead, and as they were not 
 actually in the possession of Ben, he could not be 
 charged as a receiver. That was law and common 
 sense also ; moreover, the proof was wanting that the 
 said tin box actually contained the securities in 
 question. Furthermore, it was not desirable to have 
 recourse to the law in the matter. After giving many 
 hours' consideration to the perplexing case, and con- 
 ferring with his active clerk, Mr. Blackstone decided 
 first of all to offer bail for Frank, and after his release 
 from gaol to cause a constant watch to be kept over 
 him and his companion, in order to find out, if possible, 
 where the box was concealed. The success of those 
 plans was greater than even sanguine Mr. Sharp anti- 
 cipated. Ben and Frank were tracked to the Fitzroy 
 Gardens and back to their lodgings, and were then 
 arrested, as I have already shown. On their way to the 
 police-station they were, as if by a lucky accident, met 
 by Mr. Blackstone himself, who prevailed upon the 
 policemen to take the prisoners to his office. Thus, in 
 less than two hours after the tin box was exhumed, it 
 was, together with the parcel of manuscript, in the 
 hands of Mr. Blackstone, and Ben and Frank were 
 standing before him, quaking with dread that they 
 had unwittingly committed a felony.
 
 126 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 I need not stay to inquire on what authority the men 
 were made prisoners, and had their persons and their 
 boxes searched ; or by what process of law they were 
 afterwards released from the custody of the police, at 
 the request of Mr. Blackstone. It will scarcely be dis- 
 puted by any observant person, that the law is often 
 stretched a point or two ; and it is equally palpable that 
 little expedients, called dodges, are occasionally re- 
 sorted to in commercial, political, and even in social life, 
 when the end is supposed to justify the means. Frank 
 and Ben were strangers in the great city, and they had 
 neither friends nor money — that was pretty well under- 
 stood ; so they could not very well take action against 
 the process adopted, even if they had suspected its 
 legality. It was argued that their common-sense would 
 naturally prompt them to keep quiet, for their own 
 sakes ; but even if they chose to be obstreperous, as 
 Britons sometimes are when their rights and liberties 
 are infringed, all they could say or do would not much 
 damage Mr. Blackstone's reputation, even if it were 
 admitted to have been an error of his professional 
 judgment. At any rate, no other way could be devised 
 of getting the important box and parcel, than the bold 
 stroke which had been carried out so nicely. The merit 
 of the scheme was certainly due to Mr. Sharp, and it is 
 very likely he would have had to bear the discredit of 
 it if it had miscarried. 
 
 I'^or an hour, during which Mr. Blackstone and his 
 clerk were in private conference, Ben and Frank were 
 left in the back office, to reflect on their position, which 
 did not seem to be a very safe one ; and they both 
 declared, that if they had foreseen the trouble that had 
 befallen them, they would have sewn Uumby's parcel 
 up with him in his hammock, and let the tin box lie
 
 MR. BLACKSTONE'S PROPOSALS. 127 
 
 in the hole where he had buried it, until it turned to 
 rust and dust. Presently Mr. Blackstone and his clerk 
 re-entered the office, and again questioned Ben and 
 Frank about their deceased shipmate ; but they could 
 not give any additional information. 
 
 "I have a proposal to make to you," said. Mr. Black- 
 stone. " I need not remind you that you have run a 
 great risk of losing your liberty, through having this 
 stolen property in your possession. However, you have 
 nothing to fear now, the risk is all mine. I have the 
 said property in safe custody, and it shall be sent to its 
 proper owner as soon as possible. I propose, that if 
 you both agree to give me the necessary evidence of the 
 death of Mr. Marshall, and make declaration to the 
 same in legal form, I will pay to each of you the sum of 
 fifty pounds in cash ; and in addition to that, I will 
 undertake your defence, Mr. Shorter, at the forth- 
 coming assizes, free of any cost to you. By the way, I 
 may as well tell you, that I have received a letter from 
 Captain Beckett, of the Wolf,\v\\\Q\\ states that a certain 
 man, named in the ship's books Andrew Hall, died at 
 the entrance to Cook's Straits, and that his effects were 
 left \\\\\\ the authorities at Wellington. It will be satis- 
 factory to you to know that your statements to me are 
 beyond all doubt. What do you say to my proposal ? 
 Please tell me whether you accept it or not." 
 
 Ben replied firmly, " I have told you before, sir, the 
 reason why I cannot agree to give up to yoii, or to 
 any one else save the real owner, the things that have 
 been solemnly entrusted to me by my poor shipmate, 
 Duni — I mean Mr. Marshall." 
 
 " Yes, you have explained your own view on the 
 subject, Mr. Bruce, and to some extent I admire your 
 willingness to fulfil your promise, impracticable though
 
 I2S IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 it be. I wish that every man was as straightforward as 
 you seem to be ; still you must see the risk you would 
 run by keeping stolen property in your possession, after 
 knowing it to have been stolen. Indeed, I should be 
 doing you a great wrong were I to hand you back the 
 property in question, to say nothing of the breach of 
 duty to my clients in England." 
 
 " I don't mind taking the risk, sir, for I know I am 
 acting fairly, and I shall be able to prove that I have 
 not stolen the things. An honest man has nothing to 
 fear from the law." 
 
 " I grant you that is true enough in the abstract, Mr. 
 Bruce, but even honest men have sometimes caused 
 themselves much trouble and loss, through lack of 
 judgment. Besides, I think you are overlooking the 
 fact that your friend, Mr. Shorter, is as deeply con- 
 cerned in this matter as yourself — more so indeed, 
 considering his unfortunate position, which I need not 
 further allude to. Ikit perhaps you had better confer 
 together again for awhile in private. Mr. Sharp, will 
 you step with me into the next room ^ " 
 
 Ben sat for some minutes in thoughtful silence, after 
 the lawyer and his clerk had closed the door, and then 
 he asked, in a somewhat pettish tone, " What do you 
 think we should do, Frank ? I wish you would speak 
 out your mind plainly." 
 
 " I haven't been asked to speak before, mate ; but now 
 I tell you that I think we have no more chance oi 
 handling the tin box and parcel again, than wc would 
 if they were at the bottom of the' Pacific Ocean. The 
 lawyer will stick to them fast enough, so we had better 
 agree to take the money he offers — that's my opinion, 
 Ben." 
 
 " But what right has the lawyer to stick to the box
 
 DUMBY'S MYSTERIOUS CONCERNS. 129 
 
 and parcel ? Tell me that," said Ben, standing up and 
 looking quite pugilistic. 
 
 " What right had Captain Beckett to stick to the sea- 
 chest that poor Dumby honestly gave you with his last 
 gasp of breath ? Or what right had that big shark to 
 swallow the knuckle of salt pork that you were towing 
 over the side of the Wolf, to soak for ten minutes 
 before you cooked it for our dinner, on the day we 
 left Sydney harbour ? Tell me that, shipmate." 
 
 " I am in no humour for joking, Frank." 
 
 " I should judge not by the look of you ; nor I don't 
 see much to joke about in anything that has happened 
 to us to-night. I feel more ready to fight over it than 
 to joke ; but what's the use of kicking up a row } The 
 lawyer has got the weather-gage of us, and we can't help 
 ourselves — that's the way to look at it. Grumble as 
 much as we may, we shan't get the things out of his 
 hands again, whatever they are worth ; and I say again, 
 we had better take the money he offers, or we may get 
 nothing at all, and likely enough we may get into a 
 serious scrape if we go arguing the wrong way with 
 him, for we don't know what devilment there may be in 
 that tin box." 
 
 " I say again, with all my heart, I wish I had never 
 had anything to do with Dumby's mysterious concerns," 
 rejoined Ben, with a sigh which nearly resembled a 
 groan. 
 
 " Ay, it would perhaps be a lucky thing for some of 
 us poor sailors if we had never been born ; but for all 
 that here we are in the wide world, and we had better 
 be willing to stop here and make the best of it, till our 
 life's voyage is fairly ended. There is no good in 
 wishing impossibilities, Ben. That's all nonsense. No 
 doubt you have done your duty to our poor old ship- 
 
 K
 
 I30 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 mate, as far as you were able, and no sensible man,, 
 dead or alive, would blame you for events that you 
 can't help." 
 
 "I wish I could shake off the dread I feel of seeing 
 something that I don't want to see, if I willingly give 
 up those things that were entrusted to me/' 
 
 "Dumby's ghost, you mean, I suppose. I've been 
 thinking about that too — more than I've talked of; but 
 what can we do, mate? Hark! I hear the lawyer 
 locking up his desk, as if he is about to make a start, 
 so we had better decide what to say to him. I want 
 to go home to bed." 
 
 After a few more minutes' solemn consideration, Ben 
 said, " I suppose it is no use for us to oppose Mr. Black- 
 stone. He won't give up Dumby's property to us if we 
 stay here all night, so we may as well accept his terms. 
 Rap at the door. I should like to have another word 
 or two with him before I quite decide." Frank rapped, 
 and Mr. Blackstone soon re-entered the room, with' his 
 hat and stick in his hand, as if he were just preparing 
 to leave the office. He said something about their 
 having been long over their discussion, and asked if 
 they had come to a decision, or would they like to wait 
 till to-morrow to decide. 
 
 " Will you pardon me for putting two plain questions, 
 sir ? Do you really mean to keep possession of the tin 
 box and parcel that )'ou have taken from us to-night ? 
 and are you warranted in taking the things from us in 
 the way you have done ? " 
 
 " I say, Yes ; most decidedly I am justified in what I 
 have done, Mr. Bruce, and I am quite prepared to abide 
 by my acts. I have no alternative but to keep possession 
 of the aforesaid property. The interests of my clients 
 in England demand it."
 
 MR. BLACKSTONE'S TERMS ACCEPTED. 131 
 
 "Then in that case we had better agree to accept 
 the terms you offer us, Mr. Blackstone. For my part, I 
 do not see how I can do otherwise." 
 
 Frank briefly said, "Just so — that's what I say, Ben; 
 we are jammed on a lee shore." 
 
 Mr. Blackstone in a few kind words commended their 
 judgment in the case. He then shook hands with his 
 clients, and told them if they came to his office the 
 next day at eleven o'clock, the business should be 
 settled without further delay. Mr. Sharp shook hands 
 with them outside the office, and said they might con- 
 sider themselves fortunate in getting over a trouble- 
 some affair so speedily.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " What ! wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?" 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 " This has been a winning cruise for us, after all," re- 
 marked Frank, as he and his companion walked towards 
 their lodgings, after leaving Mr. Blackstone's office. 
 " When we were being marched off by constables, an 
 hour or two ago, we didn't expect to be going home 
 again to-night with the certainty of gaining fifty pounds 
 a-piece. We should have to pull and haul a long while 
 on board ship to earn all that money, Ben." 
 
 "No doubt of it ; but I'd much sooner work hard for 
 money than get it in this way, Frank. We haven't 
 managed this affair cleverly." 
 
 " What on earth could we do that we haven't done, 
 mate } If the lawyer and his clerk have been too know- 
 ing for us, it isn't our fault. My mind is easy enough 
 about the affair ; and I'm glad it's all settled fair and 
 square — leastways it will be to-morrow." 
 
 " I can't help wishing again that I had never set a 
 foot on board the IVo/f," rejoined Ben mournfully. 
 
 " My word, mate, it was a lucky day for you when 
 you did so ! You will be fifty pounds richer for it, besides 
 your wages, and you have had the honour of making 
 my acquaintance, into the bargain. Ma, ha ! You didn't 
 think of that, perhaps } But cheer up, Ben ! Let us 
 have a glass or two together, and drink luck to the old 
 
 133
 
 PreB from his promise. 133 
 
 tin box. There's a grog-shop open at the corner yonder. 
 Nothing like a drop of rum to rouse a fellow up when 
 he is in the doldrums. Come on, Ben." 
 
 " You surely don't mean what you say!" exclaimed 
 Ben, with a startled look at the sudden change in the 
 bearing of his companion. " You cannot so soon have 
 forgotten your promise to me .-* " 
 
 " I never forget anything that I pledge my word to 
 when my head is clear and sober, Ben. I promised you 
 not to taste grog till we had settled poor Dumby's 
 business ; and I guess we have finished it to-night, and 
 pleasantly too, in my way of looking at it. As soon as 
 you made up your mind to accept the lawyer's offer and 
 let him keep Dumby's concerns, which of course you 
 couldn't stop him from doing, directly I heard you say 
 ' yes,' I whispered to myself, Now I am free from my 
 promise to Ben. I have kept my word like a man, and 
 I will have a glass or two of grog before I go to bed, 
 just to encourage virtue. I viiist have it too, Ben, so 
 come and take a tot with me. I'll pay for it." 
 
 " Frank, listen a moment," said Ben, stopping and 
 holding his friend's arm firmly. " I would not have you 
 go into Mrs. Blake's house to-night tipsy for twice the 
 sum of money we are to receive to-morrow. The kind 
 old lady and her daughter have had trouble enough on 
 our account, and I wish to assure them that we are not 
 thieves or drunkards. Come home with me, Frank. 
 Don't go near the public-house. You know you will 
 get drunk if you but step inside its doors." 
 
 " Yes, that is pretty certain, Ben ; but inside I must 
 go for all that, and I can't stop myself The drinking 
 devil has got hold of me just now, as tightly as grips to 
 a coal-basket, and I must have a drop of grog if it blinds 
 me. Let go my arm, shipmate."
 
 134 /-V TEE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " I will not let go your arm, Frank. The drinking 
 fiend has no power over you unless you yield to him, 
 and I will not let you do that to-night," said Ben 
 resolutely. "Don't stand looking at that glaring gin- 
 shop lamp another moment, for it has a fascinating in- 
 fluence over you, but come away with me. Remember 
 how cheerful and well you have been for several weeks 
 past without taking anything stronger than tea, and 
 pray don't run into certain misery with your eyes open. 
 Be a man again, Frank ! Shake off this horrid influence, 
 and go to bed sober to-night, as you have done of late, 
 and you will be able to go with me to Mr. Blackstone's 
 ofiice to-morrow with a clear head and steady nerves. 
 Do, there's a good fellow, be persuaded by me and come 
 home." 
 
 While Ben was making his earnest appeal Frank 
 made two or three ineffectual efforts to free himself from 
 the firm grasp of his friend. He seemed as if debating 
 with himself whether to use violent resistance, but pre- 
 sently he suffered 'Ben to lead him homeward, 
 
 "That was a hard struggle, Ben ; worse than a hand- 
 to-hand fight with a slaver," remarked Frank, after he 
 had walked some distance in silence. "It was a short 
 fight but a severe one. I have conquered my old foe 
 this time, and I feci heartily glad of it. Many thanks 
 for your help, shipmate. I could no more have done it 
 alone than I could heave up a frigate's best bower 
 anchor single-handed. Now, Ben, while I am calm, and 
 before the craving fit comes on me again, I promise, on 
 the word of a man, thai I will not touch or taste grog 
 again for " 
 
 "As long as you live," interposed Ben. 
 
 " No, mate, I won't say that. Though I just now seem 
 to hate grog with a mortal hatred, I have not confidence
 
 FRANK'S INHERITED INFIRMITIES. 135 
 
 enough in myself to make a promise of total abstinence 
 from grog- for life ; but for six months from this blessed 
 hour I will be a teetotaller to the backbone. Here is 
 my hand again, Ben, and I pledge you the word of a 
 man." As Ben took his proffered hand, Frank added 
 in a more cheerful tone, " Now I shall feel safe for a 
 while ; but* if you had not kept such a firm hold of me 
 just now, I should be half seas over, as the saying is 
 by this time, and perhaps be fighting drunk an hour 
 hence, and then it would have been dangerous for even 
 you to lay a hand upon me. Oh dear ! what a powerful 
 influence grog has over a poor wretch who has learned 
 to love it more than he loves his own immortal soul ! 
 Happy fellow you are, Ben, who never got your blood 
 tainted with it before you were born. Your parents 
 were sober people, I'll be bound, or you wouldn't be so 
 tame as you are." 
 
 " I do not believe that my poor mother or my grand- 
 mother were ever the worse for drink, if they ever tasted 
 it at all." 
 
 " I thought as much, Ben, and you may bless your 
 stars for the happy fact ; that, in a great measure, may 
 account for your strict sobriety. My father was a 
 drunkard. It may seem undutiful of me to say as much 
 as that against the poor old man's character, now he is- 
 dead and gone, but it is a sad fact that he loved drink 
 more than he loved his own immortal soul, and his son 
 Frank has inherited infirmities of the same nature, 
 worse luck. But we will not say any more about it-i-I 
 hate the subject. I am on the sober tack now, and you 
 shall see that I will not vary half a point in my course 
 for six months from this lucky evening." 
 
 Mrs. Blake was in bed, but she was not asleep, when 
 Ben and Frank knocked at the front door. She soon
 
 136 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 let them in, and kindly offered to light a fire and make 
 them a cup of tea, but they would not allow her to do 
 it. It was a wonderful relief to her mind that they had 
 returned so soon. 
 
 " I told you we should soon be back again, ma'am, to 
 convince you that we are not rogues and vagabonds," 
 said Frank. " Our story is too long to tell you to-night, 
 but you shall hear all about it to-morrow. Now you go 
 to bed again, ma'am. Good-night ! sorry we disturbed 
 you." 
 
 Soon after breakfast the next morning, Frank and 
 Ben went straightway to the lawyer's office. Mr. Black- 
 stone received them cordially, and was evidently in a 
 pleasant mood. After a few minutes' conversation with 
 them both, he asked Frank to step with him into the 
 adjoining room, where sat Mr, Sharp at a table which 
 was nearly covered with photographs of men in various 
 garbs, and Frank was asked to pick out Mr. Marshall's 
 likeness from the group. Frank gazed at the pictures 
 one by one from the first to the last, and then said con- 
 fidently, " He is not among that lot. There isn't one of 
 them good-looking enough for him." 
 
 " Are you sure of it ? " asked Mr. Blackstone. 
 
 •' As sure as you are that I am standing here, sir." 
 
 " Will you sec if he is in this group 1 " said I\Ir. Sharp, 
 uncovering another table with about an equal number 
 of photographs on it. 
 
 Frank looked up and down the first and second row, 
 and then selecting the bottom picture in the third row 
 he exclaimed, " That's Mr. Marshall ; or the man wc 
 used to call Dumby, because wc could never get him to 
 tell us who he was, or where he came from." 
 
 Frank was then told to step into the front office again, 
 and Ben was submitted to a similar test, and he also
 
 FRANK TELLS DUMBYS STORY. J 37 
 
 selected the same photograph. Mr. Blackstone there- 
 upon expressed himself as perfectly satisfied. In the 
 course of the afternoon a declaration and other legal 
 documents were signed by Ben and Frank, before a 
 notary, and then they returned to their lodgings, each 
 with fifty pounds in his pocket. The business had been 
 completed with less delay than is usually attendant 
 upon legal transactions of so much importance. 
 
 After tea that evening, Frank gave a tolerably full 
 account of the peculiar business that had brought him 
 and his friend to Melbourne, while Mrs. Blake and her 
 daughter sat and listened with marked interest.- In 
 some parts of the narrative, when Ben's broken limb was 
 alluded to, Annie looked so sympathising that no 
 observer could possibly doubt the tender susceptibility 
 of her nature — the softness of her heart. 
 
 " It was a sad end for the unfortunate man," remarked 
 Mrs. Blake, when Frank had finished his story about 
 poor Dumby's death and burial at sea. " If his parents 
 are alive, they will no doubt be deeply grieved when 
 they hear of the fate of their wandering son. Alas ! 
 many prodigal sons have ended their days in this land 
 in a similar dreadful way.'' 
 
 " It would have been a lucky thing for our poor ship- 
 mate if he had lived to hear of the fortune that is left to 
 him," said Frank. 
 
 " Perhaps so," remarked Mrs. Blake. " But if he was 
 an intemperate man, which I suspect was the case, his 
 fortune would not have benefited him, and it may now 
 fall into the hands of some one who will do good with it. 
 I heartily wish it may. I was told a short time ago of 
 a young man who was working in a claim at one of the 
 large diggings in this colony, who quite unexpectedly 
 received news that he was left a fortune. He at once
 
 •138 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 left his gold-digging work and began to drink to excess, 
 and to treat any one on the diggings who would drink 
 at his expense. He soon became partially insane, and 
 went about from one inn to another exhibiting the pho- 
 tograph which had "been sent to him of his mansion in 
 Yorkshire. At length he was put under restraint, but it 
 was too late to save his life. He had drunk to such an 
 extent that delirmni trcinens ensued, and he died raving 
 mad, only a few weeks after receiving the news of his 
 accession to a large fortune," 
 
 " It seems to me that there are many lucky fellows 
 out 'here who suddenly fall in for large fortunes. I 
 wonder if it will ever be my turn," said Frank. 
 
 "There are many young men in this land who belong 
 to respectable families in England and elsewhere," re- 
 plied Mrs. Blake. " They have been attracted here by 
 reports of the rich fruits in the goldfields, and that is 
 why we hear of so many cases of the sort you allude to. 
 A friend of mine, who is clerk to an auctioneer in Mel- 
 bourne, told me that he has often seen family relics, in 
 the shape of old-fashioned jewellery or rare books, at 
 pawnbrokers' sales of unredeemed pledges, which had 
 evidently been pawned by young men. of respectable 
 connections. I suppose you intend to send that unfor- 
 tunate young man's Bible to his mother, Mr. Bruce } " 
 added Mrs. ]51akc in a feeling tone. 
 
 Ben stammered out a reply in the affirmative. But 
 the question made him feel uneasy again. He meant to 
 have given the Bible to Mr. Blackstonc, to send home 
 with the parcel of manuscript, but had forgotten to do 
 so. Soon afterwards Ben returned to his room, lest 
 Mrs. Blake and her daughter should observe the depres- 
 sion which was again stealing over him, despite his 
 efforts to rally it away.
 
 BEN'S GOOD QUALITIES. • 139 
 
 " I think ]\Ir. Bruce is a very kind-hearted young 
 man," remarked ]\Irs. Blake, when Ben had left the 
 room. " I have noticed that whenever the late unfor- 
 tunate Mr. Dumby " 
 
 "Excuse me, ma'am, Marshall was his name. Sailors 
 always get some queer nicknames, same as boys do at 
 school." 
 
 " Yes, so I have heard before, Mr. Shorter. Sailors 
 are funny men. I was going to say, whenever Mr. 
 Marshall has been spoken of here, Mr. Bruce seemed 
 to feel very much for the poor man's sad fate." 
 
 " Ay, Ben is as tender-hearted as a woman, though he 
 has got pluck enough for an admiral when it's the right 
 time to show it." 
 
 " He is very quiet," said Miss Blake, with a half sigh. 
 
 " Yes, miss, he is quiet, except when anything uncom- 
 mon rouses him up, but he has sense to guide his talk 
 when he goes at it. . Some shipmates that I have sailed 
 with, who had more tongue than brains, have been regu- 
 lar forecastle nuisances all through their watch below. 
 I haven't come across a young fellow in all my life's 
 cruising that I seem to take to so naturally as I do to 
 Ben ; and it's because he is so fair and above-board in 
 all Jiis doings, and so considerate for everybody about 
 him." 
 
 " I am sure I have reason to remember his kindness, 
 and yours too, Mr. Shorter," said Mrs. Blake. 
 
 " Oh, as for me, I'm nobody, ma'am. By your leave, 
 I'll tell you just one little act of Ben's, that will show 
 you what sort of mettle he has got. We were strolling 
 together not long ago, along a sandy road in the out- 
 skirts of the city of Newcastle, when we saw a great 
 surly fellow beating a horse because it could not trot 
 along with a cart that was nearly heavy enough for two
 
 140 IN THE DEPlliS OF THE SEA. 
 
 horses. He was hitting the poor brute over the ears 
 with the butt-end of his whip, and cursing at every 
 blow ; so Ben walked up to him and said, in a voice 
 like a commanding officer, ' Leave that horse alone ! ' 
 The fellow turned round, looking savage enough to 
 fight ; but there was something in Ben's manly look 
 that cowed him as much as a roaring lion could have 
 done. He let out some blackguard talk, of course, but 
 we did not see him hit the horse again. We watched 
 the cart till it got into the city, and then I said to 
 Ben, ' What would you have done, mate, if that horse- 
 slaughterer hadn't stowed his whip when you gave the 
 word of command .? ' 
 
 " Said Ben, ' I would have told him that there was a 
 law to protect dumb animals from ill usage, and that I 
 meant to get him punished for his cruelty ; and I should 
 perhaps have quietly followed the cart until I met a 
 policeman to take charge of the fellow ; but, you see, I 
 have been spared that trouble, Frank. In general, a 
 word or two spoken in a resolute tone to such a char- 
 acter as he is enough to frighten him. No one but a 
 rank coward would beat a poor, overloaded horse, as 
 that man was doing.' " 
 
 Mrs. Blake said it was noble of Mr. Bruce to speak up 
 in defence of a poor, ill-used animal ; and it was plain 
 enough, from the approving look of Miss Annie, that 
 she coincided in her mother's opinion. 
 
 " My friend Ben is a regular John Bull," added Frank. 
 " I don't believe he could possibly stand by and see 
 unfair play, in any shape or form, without trying to stop 
 it. There are some crawling animals, in the shape of 
 men, who wouldn't stir hand or tongue to benefit any- 
 body or anytiiing but themselves. ' Let the world wag 
 on its old-fashioned course, it will last long enough for
 
 A CURE FOR LAZY MEN. 141 
 
 US.' That's their talk — or the meaning of it. Ugh! the 
 
 lazy, selfish lubbers ! I'd have them all sent to sea in 
 
 leaky ships, and make them pump for their lives. I 
 
 wish you good-night, ladies." 
 
 Frank then lighted his bedroom candle and retired, 
 " I do really like to hear Mr. Shorter talk. He is 
 
 so honest and outspoken," remarked Mrs. Blake to her 
 
 daughter. 
 
 "Yes, and he seems to understand the character of 
 
 Mr. Bruce so thoroughly, and is so very fond of him," 
 
 tenderly responded Annie.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "Look round the habitable world, how few 
 Know their own good, or knowing it pursue." 
 
 — Drydcn. 
 
 " Hallo, shipmate ! Are you going to lie in bed all 
 day for a treat .'' It is nearly eight bells, and I hear 
 our landlady getting breakfast ready. Come, rouse out, 
 or we shall perhaps have cold coffee." That was Frank's 
 first address to his sleepy companion on the following 
 morning. "If your bed were as hard as mine was in 
 the gaol, you would be glad to get up to rest yourself." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! I didn't know it was so late," said Ben, 
 as he sat up in his bed looking scarcely more than 
 half awake. " Yawgh.! I don't think I have slept two 
 hours since the clock struck one." 
 
 " Surely that's a' miscalculation of yours, Ben, and I 
 guess you were asleep when you made it. I woke up 
 twice in the middle watch, and you were snoring like 
 a sea-horse with a little crab in his nozzle. Young 
 fellows don't often make such a scaring noise as that 
 when they arc wide awake." 
 
 " Well, perhaps I have been sleeping and dreaming ; 
 but I could almost declare solemnly that I have been 
 having a real chat with poor Dumby, and that he was 
 silting on that chest for half the night." 
 
 "Ha, ha! that was nightmare; the effect of the 
 bread and cheese and onions that you ate for supper. 
 I often dream about queer things when I am sleeping 
 
 143
 
 BEN'S DREAM. 
 
 143 
 
 on shore, after feasting on the fat of the land, as the 
 saying is." 
 
 " If it wasn't a reahty, it was one of the strangest 
 dreams I ever had. . Ah, you may laugh, Frank, but I 
 believe there is something significant in it all, although 
 I am not quite so superstitious as Mr, Blackstone 
 fancies I am." 
 
 " I couldn't help laughing at your solemn-looking 
 phiz, Ben. But I won't laugh again. Let me hear 
 about your dream, and perhaps I can guess what it 
 means. I remember that the carpenter of the Hazard 
 dreamt, one night when we were at sea, that his 
 youngest boy had tumbled down a well and was 
 drowned. When he told me his dream, I said, ' You 
 may depend on . it, Chips, that the very reverse of it 
 has happened ; for dreams always go by contraries. I 
 have heard that said a hundred times or more. Sure 
 enough, when we got home after our cruise, the first 
 thing Chips heard was that his eldest daughter was 
 married to a rich grocer, and that his boy had not been 
 drowned at all, for the little fellow came on board our 
 ship at Portsmouth with a letter for his father soon after 
 the anchor was let go." 
 
 "That was a fortunate reverse certainly; but my 
 dream cannot possibly be reversed, because we know 
 that Dumby is dead. I fancied I saw him sitting on that 
 chest, and looking just as he looked on the night he 
 crawled out of his^ berth in the forecastle of the Wolf ; 
 and he talked to me quite friendly, but in very mournful 
 tones. No, Frank, he didn't say anything concerning 
 the tin box or the parcel, and that's what I seemed 
 . afraid he'd come to talk to me about. Poor old fellow ! 
 he looked so miserable, I can't get "his image out of my 
 mind." .
 
 144 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " It's very strange, Ben. But it's a good job he didn't 
 seem cross with you for your bad luck with his concerns. 
 What did he say to you ? " 
 
 " I can't recollect much that he said, for I was naturally 
 scared at seeing what seemed to me to be Dumby 
 himself. Perhaps I shall remember more of it presently. 
 But what do you think of my dream, Frank "> Now, 
 don't laugh again, there's a good fellow, but tell me what 
 your opinion is of it." 
 
 " It is best not to say too much about things one 
 doesn't understand, mate. It beats all my knowledge, 
 that is the plainest way to answer you. Let us come 
 and have breakfast, and we'll talk over this affair again 
 when we have more time to spare. Our good old land- 
 lady is as punctual as a ship's bell with our meals, and 
 I like to be up to time too." 
 
 In the evening the two friends took a walk together 
 to the Carlton Gardens. While they were sitting quietly 
 on one of the rustic seats in that very pleasant resort, 
 Frank asked his companion if he had been thinking 
 any more about his mysterious dream of the previous 
 night. 
 
 " Yes, indeed I have, Frank. I could scarcely think 
 of anything else all day," replied Ben. " I have a strong 
 inclination to go to England. I should like to see my 
 dear grandmother again, now that I have a little money 
 to give her ; and I am sure she will'be delighted to see 
 me — poor old soul ! " 
 
 " I think you had better send what money you can 
 spare by the next mail to your grandmother, and stop 
 here aad make some more. Fifty pounds isn't much' of 
 a fortune to carry home, and you cannot take so much 
 as that, unless you work your passage." 
 
 " That's true, Frank, and I am sure I can make a
 
 FRANK PROPOSED TO ACCOMPANY BEN. 145 
 
 better living in this part of the world than I can at 
 home. Still I feel a sort of craving impulse to go and 
 see Dumby's mother (I have her address), and carry her 
 the Bible that I forgot to give Mr. Blackstone. I dare 
 say she will be glad to get that relic of her lost son, 
 even if she does not care to hear all I could tell her 
 about him. Perhaps she may be generous enough to 
 pay me for my trouble." 
 
 "Very likely it may be something in your pocket, 
 Ben. Anyway, if you feel such a strong fancy to go 
 home, I won't try to stop you ; but I hope you won't 
 start till you see what they do with me at the assize." 
 
 "Of course I shall stop till your case is decided, 
 Frank. I would not leave you dishonestly for any con- 
 sideration in the world." 
 
 " Thank you, Ben ; I know you have good feelings 
 for me. I don't suppose the judges will hang me unless 
 they go to the full stretch of the law ; but there is no 
 saying, for law is very uncertain. If the jury are 
 persuaded to believe that I tried to murder old 
 Leary, then I am afraid it will go hard with me. I get 
 rather dreary over it sometimes, which is natural enough 
 to a man v/ho is in dread of losing his life or his 
 liberty." 
 
 "I do not think you need fear much, Frank. Mr. 
 Blackstone told me that he felt sure you would be 
 acquitted, though he did not like to say as much to 
 you, lest it should make you over-confident." 
 
 " No fear of getting too high-spirited, Ben. I am 
 glad you have told me what the lawyer said, for a little 
 comfort is better than none. If I do get safely out 
 of this scrape, I'll go to England with you, if you would 
 like to have my company." 
 
 " I should like your company very much, Frank." 
 
 L
 
 146 ■ IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " Then if I get free I'll go with you. I haven't seen 
 the dear old land for nearly thirty years, so I'll go and 
 see if my sister Sally is alive. These fifty sovereigns 
 will burn a hole in my pocket and tumble out if I stay 
 in Melbourne. I must go to sea for my health's sake, 
 and I may as well go a voyage to London as elsewhere. 
 If I can't ship as seaman on board the vessel that 
 you go in, I'll pay my passage and go to sea for once in 
 my life as an independent gentleman." 
 
 For the ensuing month Ben and Frank lived very 
 comfortably at their lodgings. They usually spent a 
 part of each day in the public library, and in seeing the 
 various places of attraction with which the fine city of 
 Melbourne abounds. Their evenings were passed by 
 the home fireside ; and the society of the hostess and 
 her daughter was very agreeable, so much so that 
 Frank remarked to Ben, in his cby way, one night after 
 they, had retired to their bedroom, that if he were to 
 live much longer at that easy rate, he should be spoilt 
 for a sailor. To which Ben replied with a sigh, that he 
 should miss the society of Mrs. and Miss Blake very 
 much after he left their house, for they had been like a 
 mother and a sister to him. 
 
 "15cttcr than a sister, I think, Ben. But joking apart, 
 I believe that dear old lady knows as much about re- 
 ligion as the chaplain of our frigate did, and perhaps 
 more ; at any rate, the way she talks about it, seems to 
 be more plain and hearty like. I don't profess to be a 
 first-rate judge of prayers, more's the pity, but her 
 prayer to-night seemed to be more solemn and earnest 
 than anything of the sort that I ever heard before, 
 especially when she put in a word or two for sailors 
 who arc knocking about at sea in the hard gale that is 
 
 I
 
 ASHAMED TO PRAY. 147 
 
 now blowing. That touched my heart like a warm 
 hand, and I said to myself, that's Christianity." 
 
 " I confess I did not much fancy her religious services 
 every night when I first came to lodge here, but I like 
 them now, and I think I shall make up my mind to 
 say my prayers every night before I turn into bed." 
 
 " It can't do you any harm, mate, and it may perhaps 
 do you good. It comes rather hard on a poor fellow, 
 if he is in danger of going down at sea, and he is 
 ashamed to pray to God to help him, as I have been 
 many times." 
 
 '' I never was ashamed to pray to God, Frank, though 
 I have seldom thought of doing so since I left my 
 grandmother's roof I don't see why a man should be 
 ashamed or afraid to pray." 
 
 " I will tell you what I mean, Ben. I was on board 
 of a ship once that got badly strained in a gale of wind/ 
 and after floundering about like a water-logged punt 
 for seven hours, she went down under us, and drowned 
 six of the crew. I prayed to God that night, as I was 
 working at the pumps, and vowed that if He would let me 
 get safe on shore I would give over all my wicked tricks, 
 and behave myself for the rest of my life. I honestly 
 meant what I said ; but I am so-rry to tell you that I 
 hadn't landed much above an hour before I got drunk 
 and knocked down the coxswain of the lifeboat that 
 brought me on shore from the wreck — the man who risked 
 his life to save me. Ever since that awfully shabby 
 trick of mine, I have bc.en ashamed to pray to God 
 when I have been in danger — it would only look like 
 mockery. . Oh dear me ! I wish I wasn't such a wicked 
 old sinner, Ben, then I would pray to God every night 
 of my life. It must be comforting for a poor fellow to 
 know that if death were to come skulking over him
 
 148 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 while he was asleep, his soul would be safe for the next 
 world." 
 
 The anxiously looked for day of Frank's trial came, 
 and he appeared in court without being looked after by 
 his bailee. Mrs. and Miss Blake and Ben were also in 
 attendance as witnesses. The case for the prosecution 
 was fully gone into, and, as stated by the Attorney- 
 General and sworn to by I\Ir. Leary, it looked as clear a 
 case of murderous assault and robbery as ever was 
 brought into court. But there are two sides to a story, 
 and it is not often that they are at all alike. When 
 evidence for the defence was heard, it threw a different 
 aspect on the case, and poor Frank felt less like a doomed 
 man. If Mr. Leary had any sense of shame, he must 
 have been keenly touched by the address of the learned 
 counsel for the defence, when he pictured with manly 
 feeling the heinous conduct of the prosecutor, in dogging 
 a young innocent girl on her way home from her work- 
 shop, and seeking by deceitful wiles and the temptation 
 of his purse, to mislead her from the path of virtue — in 
 fact, trying his utmost to make another unhappy subject 
 for the reforming efforts of the lady directors of the 
 Female Refuge, or another poor degraded inmate for 
 the Destitute Asylum. 
 
 The jury, without leaving the box, acquitted Frank on 
 the charge of robbery. They found him guilty of a 
 common assault, but on the ground of the justifiable 
 character of it they strongly recommended the prisoner 
 to mercy. The learned judge then made a {q.\n stringent 
 remarks on the disposition of some men of position in 
 the community to mislead young and virtuous womcni 
 and then he pronounced sentence on Frank, which was 
 that he be kept in custody until the rising of the court- 
 Frank touched his forelock to the judge, and took a
 
 FRANK LIBERATED. 149 
 
 seat in a corner of the dock, looking as pleased as if 
 he had just been awarded a gold medal for jumping 
 overboard and saving a life, while Mr. Leary stalked out 
 of court with feelings of a totally different character 
 gnawing at his heart. Ben waited outside the court 
 until the close of the day, and then he walked home 
 beside his liberated friend to their lodgings, where they 
 were joyfully welcomed by their hostess and her 
 daughter. 
 
 As a member of the committee of the Female Refuge, 
 Sydney, some years ago, I had many sad opportunities 
 of seeing unfortunate young victims of the cruel 
 treachery of such men as Mr. Leary. The " social evil," 
 as it is called, is one that I feel extreme delicacy in 
 enlarging upon in my books ; still I do not think the 
 evil will be remedied in any way by public writers or 
 speakers being altogether passive or silent on the subject.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " CourngeouSj and refreshed for future toil, 
 If toil awaits me, or if dangers new." 
 
 — Cowpet, 
 
 The result of Frank's trial was scarcely less a cause of 
 gladness to himself than it was to his friend, Ben, and to 
 his kind landlady and her daughter. Poor Mrs. Blake 
 wept for joy when she got home. It had been a. day of 
 unusual excitement for her and Annie. Neither of them 
 had, until then, been in a court of justice, and the ide:l 
 of standing up before a judge and jury, and a large 
 assemblage of learned lawyers, was almost terrifying to 
 them, and the anticipation of the ordeal had been the 
 worry of their lives by day and the spoiler of their rest- 
 by night, for several weeks. They had often heard and 
 read of witnesses, under cross-examination by learned 
 counsel, having very humiliating and even indelicate 
 questions put to them, and they both decided that, if it 
 were not for the sake of Mr. Shorter, they would make 
 any sacrifice or put up with any personal indignity 
 rather than appear in court as witnesses. Similar resolu- 
 tions have been made, perhaps hundreds of times, by 
 weakly, sensitive women, and thus unprincipled men 
 have often escaped punishment for their misdoings. 
 
 But the ordeal was less troublesome to Mrs. Blake and 
 her daughter than they had foreboded. The counsel for 
 the prosecution was a considerate gentleman. Doubt- 
 
 150
 
 A REGULAR OLD SLILPLETON. 151 
 
 less he saw that he had a bad case to adv^ocate — at any 
 rate he did not seek to advance it by assailing the 
 characters of the two principal witnesses, who, it was 
 plainly to be seen, were respectable women. Ben 
 was not so reasonably dealt with. He was severely 
 cross-questioned, and especially as to his antecedents 
 and his connection with the prisoner. He was sorely 
 perplexed when pressed to tell what trade or calling his 
 father was ; and it was a merciful relief to him when the 
 question was overruled ; but he was forced to confess 
 that he had run away from his grandmother, which 
 admission caused a slight sensation in the court. The 
 witness-box was worse than a pillory to poor Ben, and 
 he showed far more nervous excitement than his friend 
 Frank showed in the dock. He was glad when the trial 
 was over. 
 
 "I do believe I am a regular old simpleton, Ben," re- 
 marked Frank, as he was preparing for bed on the night 
 of his liberation from court. . 
 
 " When did you make that unsatisfactory discovery ? " 
 Ben asked, with a smile at the unusual seriousness of 
 Frank's face. 
 
 " I have suspected it for many years, Ben, but I never 
 was so convinced of it as I am at present. I think that 
 old lady's sensible talk, and her prayers every night, have 
 made me overhaul myself more closely than I ever did 
 before ; and being sober-headed, I have thought more 
 sensibly of things of late. Often as we have sat in the 
 Melbourne Public Library, I have fancied, with regret, 
 that if I had for years past only spent a few hours each 
 week in getting a little knowledge into this bcmuddled 
 old head of mine, I might have cruised along life's course 
 ten times easier than I have done, and I should not have 
 had so much time for learning wicked tricks, that I would
 
 152 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 give my ears if I could unlearn. Besides, I might have 
 had a shot or two in the locker, to provide against the 
 time when I shall be hove aside as unseaworthy. I shall 
 be fifty years old come December, and I have been 
 doing nothing but mischief ever since I came into the 
 world. I am ashamed of myself, Ben. Ah, you may 
 smile, my lad! but I mean every word I say this time.- 
 I have never done any good in the world since the day 
 I was born, but I have done a lot of roguery." 
 
 " Come, come ! don't be so hard on yourself, Frank. 
 You have certainly done some good since I have known 
 you ; I can honestly certify to that. For instance, you 
 gave that wicked rogue Leary, who was trying to work 
 misery in this home, a sound thrashing, that he will per- 
 haps remember to his benefit. Besides, you mended 
 my broken leg and the wounds on my head, and you 
 pumped day and night on board the Wolf, and perhaps 
 saved her from foundering and drowning me, for I could 
 not have escaped in a boat. I have good reason to be 
 grateful for your services in that way." 
 
 "Ah, I have had plenty of pumping in leaky old 
 ships, if there is any merit in that work, Ben. But if I 
 had not been a fool I should not have had so much of 
 such back-breaking work to do." 
 
 " How do you make that out, Frank ? You were not 
 the cause of the ship's leaking, I suppose .-* " 
 
 " No, I was not, mate ; but if I had been wise enough 
 years ago to learn my profession properly, I need not be 
 now a mere common sailor ; I should have risen a bit, 
 as other men have done who hadn't a better start off in 
 life than I had. I know several men who at the present 
 time are masters of vessels, and they had not half the 
 chance that I have had to pick up a thorough knowledge 
 of seamanship, liut they were sobcr-headcd fellows, and
 
 FRANK'S FUTURE PLANS. 153 
 
 had common-sense enough to learn their profession 
 properly, so they are masters now, and some of them 
 are part owners too, while I am nobody at all." 
 
 " Yes, yes, you are somebody, Frank. I overheard 
 the captain of the Wo/f say to the mate one day, that 
 you were a first-rate seaman. If he could say as much 
 for me, I should feel a sight more independent than I do 
 now." 
 
 " No doubt I am well up in practical seamanship, Ben, 
 and so I ought to be after being at sea thirty-five years. 
 I could handle a vessel of any rig perhaps as well as 
 many seamen in Hobson's Bay ; but I know nothing at 
 all about navigation, so I never could get command of a 
 ship, or even a second mate's berth, unless it were in a 
 small coaster. I have been" a precious fool all my days, 
 Ben, and you needn't try to persuade me that I haven't, 
 for I know myself better than you do. But I am 
 going to try another tack from this day forward. ' It is 
 never too late to mend,' as our good old landlady said 
 to-night, when she was telling us of her greengrocer, 
 who turned quite sober and pious in his old age. For 
 the next six months, if I live, I am bound to keep sober, 
 for I promised you to do so ; and I am going to try if I 
 can in the meantime learn to be a navigator. It will be 
 no use of me trying when I am off my sober tack, so 
 now is the time if I am ever to do it." 
 
 " Success .to your plans, Frank ! I say that with all 
 my heart." 
 
 "Thank you, Ben. I'll try my best, anyway. I have 
 lately read in the public library yonder, of lots of poor 
 fellows who have risen to be great men in the world, and 
 some of them in their young days had even less school- 
 ing than I had when I was a boy. I don't expect to be 
 a great man, but if I can learn to \vork a ship's reckoning
 
 154 Z-^' THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 I may get a mate's berth, and then I shall have better 
 pay and less hard work. If you have anything to say 
 against that honest scheme, out with it." 
 
 "I think it is a very sensible scheme, Frank. When 
 are you going to begin your studies, and who will teach 
 you.?" 
 
 " You know I am going home in the same ship with 
 you, Ben, and I shall go as a steerage passenger, then 
 my time, will be my own, and I can go to work like an 
 almanac maker. I have money in my pocket, and no 
 doubt I shall find some one on board who will give me 
 all the teaching I want, if I pay for it. I have made up 
 my mind, if I live, that I shall be able to say, before I 
 am fifty years old, I can navigate a ship to any part of 
 the known world."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " Hurrah ! hurrah for England, Her woods and valleys green, 
 Hurrah for good old England ! Hurrah for England's Oueen." 
 
 —M. A. Stodart 
 
 "This is the craft for us," said Frank to his friend Ben, 
 and at the same time he stopped before the Mojiarch, 
 a large frigate-built ship that was lying at the railway 
 pier, Sandridge. They had previously inspected all the- 
 other vessels that were laid on the berth for London. 
 " This is the ship to my fancy, Ben. Perhaps she isn't 
 so fast as some of the big clippers that we have just 
 looked at, but she is a comfortable ship in bad weather, 
 I'll warrant, from the build of her, and she will stand up 
 well under her canvas. A man may have a chance of 
 walking her decks on his two legs, and with a dry coat 
 on his back. If we are a week or two longer on the 
 passage, it doesn't matter to us, so long as the provisions 
 •don't run short ; we shall have nothing extra to pay, 
 and it will be an easy life for us." 
 
 " I like that ship better," replied Ben, pointing to a 
 smart Liverpool clipper, which was lying on the opposite 
 side of the pier. 
 
 " I daresay most landsmen would agree with you, 
 mate. That is a noble-looking ship and a fast sailor, 
 but I don't like her lean bows and long, narrow hull. 
 She must be wet in a sea-way — a regular diver ; and 
 
 155
 
 156 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 many a poor unlucky sailor has had a cold dip when 
 out on her gibboom, at that nice little job stowing the 
 jib." 
 
 " What beautiful long masts she has, Frank ! " 
 
 " Yes, they look very pretty ; but you wouldn't fancy 
 their tauntness if you were to make a voyage in her as 
 an ordinary seaman. It would be no joke to skim up 
 to those skysail yards, and not safe work either. If I 
 were a captain I would never have a skysail set on board 
 my ship. I hate all such dangerous shams ; and I don't 
 think I'd be bothered with stern sails. It is a cold 
 voyage round the Horn, Ben, and as I have been used 
 to warm latitudes for many years, I shall like to go 
 home in a ship that will not always have water sluicing 
 about her decks." 
 
 After a little more discussion, Ben expressed himself 
 willing to go in the Monarch if Frank liked her best ; so 
 they went on board, and as nearly all the steerage berths 
 were disengaged they were allowed to take their choice, 
 which they proceeded to do in a deliberate way. 
 
 " Starboard side of the ship, Ben," said Frank, as he 
 put a chalk mark on two upper berths in the 'tween 
 decks. " This will be the weather side in the trade- 
 winds, you know, and we shall have a chance of keep- 
 ing our port open for fresh air, while the lee ports will 
 perhaps be under water." 
 
 " I shouldn't have thought of that if you hadn't, 
 Frank." 
 
 " Very likely not,^ mate ; but you would think of it 
 before you got to London, I'll engage. We may as well 
 have all the comforts wc can get." 
 
 When they had selected their berths they went to 
 Melbourne, and paid the agent of the ship for their 
 passage, eighteen pounds each. They were told to be
 
 SETTING HIMSELF UP. 157 
 
 on board on next Saturday night, as 'Cci^ Monarch would 
 be towed to sea .early, on Sunday morning. Sunday is 
 a favourite day for sailing with -some captains, more's 
 the pity. 
 
 " Now we must go and lay in our sea stock, Ben. 
 But first of all come along with me, and see if I can 
 make a deal for some nautical concerns that I was 
 looking at yesterday. I think I can pick up a good 
 bargain." 
 
 They entered a pawnbroker's shop in Elizabeth Street, 
 and after a little haggling Frank bought a sextant, a 
 telescope, and a case of mathematical instruments, also 
 several books on navigation and some charts, all in one 
 lot. The pawnbroker said the articles belonged to the 
 second mate of an emigrant ship, who had gone crazy 
 about a girl who came out in the ship with him. She 
 had agreed to marry him ; and after getting all his 
 money from him to buy a wedding outfit, she cruelly 
 gave him the slip. The poor fellow then pawned all 
 his effects and drank himself mad with the money. 
 " He is now in Yarra-bend lunatic asylum-," added the 
 pawnbroker, "so he won't want his nautical instruments 
 again in a hurry, and I may as Vv'ell let you have them. 
 They are first-rate articles, as you can see. Let me sell 
 you a good chronometer cheap, captain, as well as this 
 lot." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! captain indeed ! " laughed Frank. "I haven't 
 got so far aft yet, mister, so I don't want a chronometer. 
 My old silver watch will do me for this voyage ; and if it 
 should stop, the ship's bell will help me to keep my 
 reckoning near enough. I will call for these things this 
 evening." 
 
 " We can carry them with us now, Frank ; wc are 
 going home," said Ben.
 
 158 117 THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " Never mind, mate. I would rather come for them 
 after dark. If I were to meet any of my old shipmates 
 they would laugh to see me with a sextant in my hand 
 and a telescope under my arm; They'd think I was 
 trying to show off before strangers, for they all know 
 that I am not a navigator, and they might perhaps play 
 off some nautical joke on me." 
 
 *' Sailors are.queer fellows," remarked Ben. 
 
 "Ay, some of them are too queer to be pleasant or 
 safe companions ; but there are other sailors of quite a 
 different sort — and good luck to them ! Some time ago 
 a big iron ship came into Sydney harbour, from London, 
 and hove alongside the wharf next to where my ship 
 was lying. After supper on the night after she arrived, 
 all hands (except the cook, who was left as shipkeeper) 
 dressed up in their Sunday clothes, and, headed by the 
 captain and the officers, away they marched up Pitt 
 Street to the Temperance Hall. They halted in front 
 of the building and sang * God Save the Queen,' in 
 real sailors' style. -Of course crowds of people rushed 
 up to see what was going on, for it was a very un- 
 common turn-out in Sydney. When they had done 
 singing, the captain made a short off-hand speech, and 
 asked the people to go inside and hear what else he had 
 to say. The sailors then went into the hall and took 
 seats on the platform. The place was filled in a few 
 minutes, and there were scores of people who could not 
 get in. Then the captain got up and talked to the 
 company like a parson ; and he told them that every 
 one of his officers and crew was a teetotaller, and what 
 was better still they were all Christian men, bound to 
 the fair haven above. He said a lot, too, about the 
 peace and good order they always had on board his 
 ship. Some of the sailors also made short speeches,
 
 A GOOD CAPTAIN AND CRE]^. 159 
 
 and there were some hymns sung and prayers said, and 
 then they all marched back to their ship again. While 
 the ship was in port, hosts of sailors belonging to other 
 ships went oh board,- to Bethel services that were held 
 there, and many hundreds of them signed the temperance 
 pledge, and promised to behave themselves like men as 
 long as they lived. That captain was a thoroughbred 
 sailor as well as a good Christian, and all his^ men were 
 as proud of him as the crew of the old Victory were of 
 Lord Nelson. There were never any bullying words 
 heard on board, and the men weren't asked to. do a 
 hand's turn of unnecessary work on Sundays. That's 
 the sort of fair play that helps to make a contented 
 crew, Ben. I only wish we could go home in such a 
 well-manned ship as the Cossiporc, and with such a good 
 master as Captain McGowan. His life's cruising is over 
 nov/, but I have no doubt he has got safe home to ' The 
 land that has no storms.' " 
 
 Ben's frequent visits to the magnificent public library 
 in Melbourne had given a wonderful stimulus to his 
 desire for useful knowledge, and his relish for books was 
 greater than he had ever before experienced. Soon 
 after leaving the pawnbroker's shop, he called at a 
 bookseller's and laid out four pounds in serviceable 
 books, including the " Popular Educator" ; also several 
 very useful books for a young student, by the Rev. 
 Paxton Hood. 
 
 " You look as if you mean to be a scholar ! " said 
 Frank, as they walked homeward, ' Ben carrying the 
 parcel of books under his arm. 
 
 " I hardly expect to be much of a scholar, Frank ; but 
 I should like to know a little more of the' wonders of 
 the world I live in. I am going to follow your sensible 
 example, and employ my three months of leisure on
 
 i6o IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 shipboard to some advantage. I have dawdled away 
 too much of my time, but I am determined to turn over 
 a new leaf." 
 
 " It is a good job for you that you have come to that 
 stand before your hair is as grey as mine, Ben ; because 
 you haven't so much to unlearn. And I am thinking it 
 is a lucky thing for us both that we came to Melbourne ; 
 for having, the free run of that fine librarj^ yonder has 
 put new brains into our heads, or roused up our old 
 stock, which is just as good perhaps ; and living in that 
 godly and righteous old woman's house has done my 
 heart more good than a volume of printed sermons 
 could do me, because I should perhaps never read 
 them." 
 
 " Living there has affected my heart," said Ben, with 
 a soft look, which his companion evidently understood, 
 for he replied in a tone of fatherly admonition. 
 
 " I guessed as much ; but steer steadily, there, Ben. 
 Unless you have a notion ot coming back to this land, 
 don't do or say anything to make that poor little girl's 
 heart sad after we are gone, for that would be as cruel 
 sport as shooting albatrosses at sea, and leaving the 
 poor broken-winged birds to starve on the water, or get 
 pecked to death by other birds, because they are help- 
 less." 
 
 " Don't trouble about that, Frank. I never could 
 imagine how that sort of wanton shooting could be 
 called sport, though I have seen some passengers on 
 board ship take delight in it ; nor can I believe that a 
 man who would trifle with a young girl's affections has 
 much honest principle in his heart. If I cannot do that 
 little maid any good I will never do her any harm, 
 Frank, it would be a base return for all the kindness 
 we have received from her mother and herself."
 
 THE THREE MIDSHIPMEN. i6i 
 
 On Saturday evening, Ben 'and Frank said farewell 
 to Mrs. and Miss Blake, and started in a car for Sand- 
 ridge, with all their luggage, and went on board the 
 MonarcJi. At daylight next morning two steam tugs 
 came alongside and took the ship in tow, and by four 
 o'clock in the afternoon they were at sea, and making 
 sail to a fair wind. Frank had never before been on 
 board a ship as a passenger, and it seemed- strange to 
 him to be inactive at the sound of the boatswain's 
 whistle. On one or two occasions during the voyage he 
 checked himself when in the act of springing into the 
 rigging, at the call to shorten sail or to rig out sternsail 
 booms. He resolved not to go aloft unless in a case of 
 emergency, but he was always willing to pull at a rope 
 on deck ; and help from his hands was more acceptable 
 to the crew than the jerky efforts of three ordinary pas- 
 sengers, who had not learnt to pull together. 
 
 There were three midshipmen on board, two of whom 
 were of the careless, rollicking sort, and spent most of 
 their time, when off duty, smoking and playing at cards, 
 or lying in their berths reading books which were not 
 calculated to inspire them with manly principles. They 
 confessed that they had been sent to sea because they 
 were unmanageable on shore. They had no taste for 
 their profession, and took no pride in learning it. ]3ut 
 the third and eldest of them was a steady youth, of 
 opposite tastes to his companions, with whom he did not 
 mess very agreeably. He was the son of a clergyman, 
 and had evidently not forgotten the good early training 
 he received in his parental home. He had chosen the 
 sea in preference to any other profession, and he showed 
 promise of becoming an expert seaman. His spare 
 hours below were devoted to studies in navigation and 
 other scientific subjects, and as the midshipmen's berth
 
 1 62 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 was not a desirable place for a quiet student when his 
 messmates were in it, he was often glad to get into the 
 starboard side of the steerage, which Ben and Frank 
 had all to themselves, as -there were only two other 
 steerage passengers — a man and his wife who occupied 
 the port side. Nothing could have happened more 
 fortunate for Frank and Ben ; for Mr. Wallace, the 
 senior midshipman, was a very obliging young gentle- 
 man, and he most willingly agreed to instruct Frank in 
 navigation, and also to help Ben to master some of the 
 difficulties in his course of self-education ;■ indeed, he 
 seemed to take a pride in his adult pupils, and was re- 
 paid for his attention by their assiduity and the fair 
 progress they made in their several studies. Thus the 
 first half of their voyage was passed agreeably and 
 profitably. 
 
 " I don't wonder, Ben, that passengers on long voyages 
 so often get cross and quarrelsome," said Frank, as he 
 and his companion sat under the lee of the longboat 
 one warm afternoon. They had been about two months 
 at sea, and were slowly sailing along with a light north- 
 east trade-wind. I don't think I would go to sea again 
 as a passenger, if I were offered a free passage and half 
 pay to boot, for an idle life is misery to me. All my 
 limbs seem to be getting rusty for want of work, like a 
 Btcam-engine that has been standing still for two years." 
 
 " But you have not been idle since you came on board 
 this ship, I'^-ank, until the heat of the tropics has driven 
 us up from our schoolroom 'tween decks. I consider 
 that we have stuck to our books like good boys, and 
 Mr. Walkice has said as much as that in our favour. 
 You are out of trim just now, Frank. The extreme 
 heat, together with your close study, has affected your 
 head a little, no doubt. I don't feel quite well myself,
 
 LESSOXS ON NAVIGATION. 163 
 
 but a few days' rest from our books and a little more 
 exercise on deck will put us to rights, and when we run 
 into a cooler climate we shall be able to go at our 
 studies again with fresh vigour." 
 
 " I dare say you are right, Ben. It is no joke for an 
 old fellow like me to sit down at schoolboy's work for 
 eight weeks on a stretch. It is not so hard for you, 
 because your young mind is elastic, but mine is like a 
 strand of old junk — precious hard to get the turns out 
 of it, or like that iron mainmast — no spring at all in it." 
 
 " But you have shown that your mind is still pliant 
 or springy, Frank," replied Ben encouragingly. " Mr 
 Wallace told me he is surprised at the progress you 
 have made in trigonometry in so short a time, and he 
 says you will make a good navigator after you have had 
 more practice. He is proud of you as a pupil, I can 
 assure you." 
 
 " I am glad he is pleased, Ben ; he has had a deal of 
 patience with me, and I shall always owe him my grati- 
 tude. The first tackling into hard dry lessons in navi- 
 gation, -was to me as disagreeable as sitting down in a 
 dentist's easy chair to have a lot of old stumps punched 
 out ; but I have conquered the worst part, and I will 
 stick to it till the end of the voyage. If I never muster 
 courage enough to pass an examination for a master's 
 or a mate's certificate, the knowledge I have picked up 
 cannot do me any harm, and it has saved me from 
 dawdling about the decks, yarning about small stuff and 
 nonsense, and smoking myself stupid for want of some 
 active occupation. Wholesome work is a boon and a 
 blessing to a man, Ben. You may put that down in 
 your log-book as a fact which wiser heads than mine 
 have acknowledged, although I do believe that some 
 dozy fellows in the world think it would be almost as
 
 i64 IN THE DEPTHS OP THE SEA. 
 
 good as heaven itself to have nothing to do but smoke 
 all day long. Yes," added Frank emphatically, " work 
 is a boon to mankind, no doubt ; but I can't say that I 
 like working up logarithms ; I would sooner be stropping 
 blocks, or tarring down the rigging/' 
 
 The MonarcJi was not so fast as some of the large 
 clipper ships in the Melbourne trade, but she was a com- 
 fortable vessel, as Frank had prejudged. Under a press 
 of sail she lifted to the waves instead of plunging through 
 them, and as she was only safely laden she rarely 
 shipped heavy water on deck. It is doubtless essentiah 
 for many reasons, to insure speed in the construction of 
 our merchant ships, but it is very desirable also for the 
 comfort of passengers — of fore-cabin passengers especi- 
 ally — that ships should be moderately dry on deck. It 
 is exhilarating to most persons to be sailing onward at 
 a rapid pace towards a desired port, but it lessens the 
 delight of a passenger, if he cannot look out at the danc- 
 ing waves without the risk of being washed off his legs 
 into the lee scuppers, or perhaps of being washed over- 
 board altogether. That it is possible to combine speed 
 with comfort in large ships, is clearly proved in several 
 of the most successful ships that trade to Australia, and 
 it would be well for passengers, and for sailors also, if 
 that combination of good qualities was more generally 
 sought for by shipowners. 
 
 The foregoing remarks were expressed by me, some 
 years before the direct line of magnificent steamers were 
 laid on to the Australian colonics, and which now almost 
 monopolise the passenger traffic. Still there are many 
 colonists of the old-fashioned sort, who would rather 
 " take a trip home and out again," as it is called, in a 
 sailing ship by the long sea route. Many persons^ to
 
 7EMPERANCE SHIPS. i6$ 
 
 whom speed is not so much a consideration as comfort, 
 prefer the quieter and more homehke routine in a well- 
 ordered sailing ship to the more stylish and more 
 exciting life in a large steamer, 
 
 A retired sea captain once said to me (I quote one of 
 his own hyperbolical sentences), " I have never lost a 
 rope yarn on any of my voyages." He was an enthusi- 
 astic advocate for sailing ships on temperance principles. 
 Much as I respect the man and his principles of strict 
 sobriety, I would not venture to print all his expressed 
 views on the liquor question, lest I might be accused of 
 being intemperate in my advocacy of the good cause of 
 Temperance. Nor will I endorse what I have heard 
 some other person boldly assert, namely, " that ninety 
 per cent, of the mishaps at sea are caused by drunken- 
 ness." Such random statistics are not of much value ; 
 still I do believe that very many serious disasters might 
 be traceable to that cause. It has been said, that " the 
 best safety-valve for a steam boiler is a sober engineer ; " 
 and perhaps the best life-buoy on board a ship is a 
 sober captain. Temperance reformers are not the only 
 persons who recognise that fact, for I have heard men 
 who were far from being temperate say, that they 
 always felt safer in a ship if they knew the captain and 
 officers to be strictly sober men. I can thoroughly 
 endorse that sentiment. 
 
 The captain and the chief mate of the Monarch were 
 teetotallers : still that did not wholly exempt the ship 
 from perils and dangers of the voyage, though it un- 
 doubtedly helped to guard against injury from them. 
 The ship was on one occasion hemmed in by icebergs. 
 She got clear of them without damage ; but had the 
 officer of the watch or the man on the look-out been 
 drunk on that perilous night, it is very likely that the
 
 l66 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 Monarch would have been in the list of " missing ships." 
 On another occasion she was in imminent danger of 
 colliding with a large screw steamer, which was gliding 
 along like a snake in the grass, at full speed one dark 
 night, when off the Brazilian coast. The vigilance and 
 ready tact of the mate of the Monarch averted a collision, 
 which might have been fatal to the crews of both ships. 
 The Monarch was squared away just in time, and the 
 steamer almost grazed alongside of her and passed on. 
 The assumption was that the watch on deck were either 
 asleep or drunk. 
 
 But there are other risks at sea besides those I have 
 just glanced at, and more trickery on shipboard than is 
 dreamt of by ordinary travellers, as the following inci- 
 dent will show. One evening, when the Monarch was 
 Hearing the Falkland Islands, Frank and Ben were 
 walking the main-deck, chatting pleasantly about the 
 fair progress they were making towards home. The 
 weather was rather hazy, but the wind was fair, and the 
 sea moderately smooth. Presently Frank stopped in 
 his walk and looked so intently towards the fore part 
 of the ship, that Ben, with some concern, asked him if 
 he saw a vessel ahead ? 
 
 " No, I don't see a vessel, Ben, but I fancy I can see 
 a dead man. For the last half-hour I have been eyeing 
 that look-out man on the forecastle, and he hasn't moved 
 half an inch. Let us go and see if he is frozen to death." 
 Accordingly they went forward, and soon saw that it 
 was a dummy man, or merely a sailor's oilskin coat and 
 hat stuck on two hand-spikes, and rather cleverly 
 fastened to the tack of the foresail, so as to represent 
 a man keeping a careful look-out ahead for ships or ice- 
 bergs. The officer of the watch could see the figure 
 from his post on the quarter-deck, and was evidently
 
 A MEAN TRICK. 167 
 
 deceived by the trick. The man who should have been 
 on the look-out was down in the forecastle, playing at 
 cards with his messmates. 
 
 " Well, that is the most reckless skulking I ever heard 
 of," said Ben indignantly. " We might have run into 
 an iceberg or another ship, and all hands have gone to 
 the bottom of the sea, through that man's scandalous 
 neglect of duty." 
 
 "That we might, Ben ; I have a good mind to report 
 that fellow to the mate, for he deserves to be punished. 
 I'll rouse him up on deck any way. I hate all that 
 sort of rascality, whether afloat or on shore." 
 
 Frank then went below, and Ben could hear him talk- 
 ing to the skulking sailor in very plain language, and 
 the man soon scrambled on deck to his duty.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " His eye, methinks, pursued the flight 
 Of birds to Britain, half way over, 
 With envy they could reach the white 
 Dear cliffs of Dover." 
 
 — Campbell. 
 
 On the ninety-sixth day after leaving Melbourne, the 
 MojiarcJi entered the English Channel, and a few days 
 afterwards Frank and Ben landed at Blackwall. It had 
 been previously arranged by them that they should take 
 up their lodgings with Ben's grandmother, if she were 
 living, as it might be a help to her, and be more com- 
 fortable and less expensive to them than stopping at an 
 inn or a sailors' boarding-house ; so they made their 
 way direct to Hackney. When they got within sight 
 of the old lady's house, Ben suggested that Frank had 
 better go first and break the news to her of the return 
 of her grandson, and he would wait at the corner of the 
 street till Frank made a signal that he might safely 
 show himself In another minute or two I'^rank was 
 standing inside the widow's little shop, which was very 
 clean and tidy : the counter was still damp from recent 
 scouring, and the floor was fresh sprinkled with red 
 sand. The stock was a general assortment of groceries 
 and sundries, of no great value in the aggregate, but it 
 would have been evident at once to a practical observer 
 
 i63
 
 "/ HAD A GRANDSON, S/R." 169 
 
 that it was a paying concern, because there was not a 
 farthing's-worth of goods wasted for want of proper 
 care, Frank wrapped on the counter with his knuckles, 
 and presently an active old matron stepped from a back 
 parlour and asked, " What do you please to want, sir?" 
 
 " Is your name Bruce, ma'am ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is my name," replied the widow, and she 
 began to tremble. She had no dread of bailiffs, or of 
 those troublesome visitors called duns, but the question 
 itself suggested that it was a stranger who had asked it, 
 and a host of exciting thoughts rushed into her mind 
 in a moment, upon subjects which she would gladly for- 
 get altogether, if it were possible. 
 
 " You have a grandson named Benjamin, I think, Mrs. 
 Bruce ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! " she exclaimed, and applied her white 
 apron to her eyes. " I had a grandson, sir, but the poor 
 boy is dead. He was drowned in the Thames nearly a 
 year ago. Poor dear Ben ! I never will believe that he 
 jumped in purposely, whatever they may say. He was 
 too thoughtful a boy to do such a terribly wicked act 
 as that ; it was an accident, I know. He was always a 
 good boy, sir ; and sorely enough I've missed him since 
 he died.' 
 
 " Who told you that he was dead, ma'am ? " 
 
 " Oh, poor fellow ! he was drowned, sure enough. I 
 saw his dead body myself, and I have the newspaper 
 with a full account of the inquest." 
 
 The sorrowful old lady was going back to her par- 
 lour for the newspaper to show to Frank, when he said, 
 " Stay a minute, mother ; don't run away. I have 
 some news for you, but you mustn't get flurried over it. 
 If I were to tell you that the verdict of the coroner's 
 jury was a mistake, what would you say ? "
 
 170 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " Ah, that can't be, sir. Listey, the tailor, swore he 
 made poor Ben's corduroy jacket. Besides, all about 
 the inquest is in the JVee/c/y News. I'll show it to you if 
 you'll wait a bit, I've got the paper safely put away in 
 my desk." 
 
 "Never mind it, ma'am. I've known even weekly 
 newspapers to make mistakes in their printing. Your 
 grandson is alive and well," 
 
 " For pity's sake don't trifle with me, sir," said the 
 widow imploringly. " My heart has been almost 
 broken. I can't bear to be trifled with. My poor, dear 
 Ben was the only being I had in the world to love me ; 
 and when I lost him, I seemed to have lost all desire 
 for life," 
 
 "There, don't cry so hard, mother. If you can bear 
 it I \\\\\ let you see Ben in a day or two," 
 
 " Oh, my dear man, is it true .-' " she asked, as she 
 seized one of Frank's hard hands, " Pray don't joke 
 with me ! I am a very infirm old woman, and it would 
 be cruel to trifle with me — very cruel," 
 
 " Of course it would be, mother. Now go into your 
 parlour and calm down a bit while I go and see if I can 
 find Ben, and bring him to you at once, to show you 
 that I am not joking. There, there, you must not get 
 so flurried over it. You can't help crying '> Well, I 
 dare say you can't, mother — it's natural enough, and I 
 don't want to stop you. It won't do you any harm, 
 perhaps ; but try if you can cry gently. You will soon 
 break down altogether if you flurry your heart in this 
 way. Ah, that's right, now ; go inside and sit down, I 
 will be back again very soon." 
 
 Frank then went outside the door and made a sign to 
 Ben, and in a few minutes more he was locked in the 
 fond embrace of his grandmother, who had for so many
 
 HOME AGAIN. 171 
 
 dreary months mourned for him as dead. The excite- 
 ment of the old lady was intense and varied. One 
 moment she would laugh, and the next moment she 
 would cry and hug her dear boy again, as if to satisfy 
 herself that he was really in the body ; then she would 
 utter exclamations of extreme joy that her lost boy was 
 brought back to life again. In the meanwhile the cus- 
 tomers in her shop were wholly neglected, and some 
 juvenile thieves of the neighbourhood seized the favour- 
 able opportunity for pilfering many little articles from 
 her shop window. After awhile Frank left them, for 
 the purpose, as he said, of taking a turn about the parts 
 of London East that he was familiar with in his younger 
 days ; and when he was gone, grandmother, at Ben's 
 suggestion, shut up her shop for the remainder of the 
 day, and sat down with him to tell him all the interesting 
 news she knew, and to hear from him some account of 
 his adventures since he parted from her so suddenly — 
 a day of sorrow never to be forgotten. 
 
 It appeared from her statement that about a week 
 after his departure, and while every one was wondering 
 what had become of him, a dead body was found float- 
 ing in the Thames, off Wapping. Its features were 
 wholly unrecognisable, but it corresponded in height 
 and figure to Ben, and the clothes were similar to what 
 he usually wore. The body had been too readily identi- 
 fied by some of the neighbours, who perhaps were in- 
 fluenced in their judgment by a sort of morbid feeling, 
 which is not easily to be accounted for or to be defined. 
 His grandmother had taken a hasty look at the corpse, 
 and believed that it was her missing Ben because some 
 of her neighbours had sworn to it. It was no marvel 
 that she was deceived, for she was half blinded by her 
 tears. It was generally believed that Ben had killed
 
 172 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 himself for love of Jenny Timms, though Jenny's grief 
 on that account was not noticeable to any one. 
 
 " But I am very much concerned, my dear," added 
 Mrs. Bruce, as a wind-up to her lengthy story, " I am 
 truly grieved that the dead body of a strange man, 
 whom nobody knows, should be buried close beside 
 your poor dear mother. And to think, too, that I 
 should have had him put there so respectably, and that 
 I should have been at the expense ever since of keeping 
 his grave nicely trimmed and flowers on it ! I am sorry 
 indeed, and I must speak to the sexton about it to- 
 morrow." 
 
 *' Sorry, grandmother ! Why, j-ou ought to be very 
 glad that I am not buried there, instead of the stranger." 
 ■ " Yes, my dear, so I am glad — very glad ; but I am 
 sorry too, if you can understand me, I am grieved to 
 think that a fellow, of whose history we know actually 
 nothing at all, should be lying near your dear mother's 
 remains, in her own ground, which I paid for — that's 
 what I mean. I have no idea who the man is." 
 
 " Never fret about that, grandmother. I don't believe 
 it will matter in the least degree who is buried beside 
 her. You have many times told me that my poor 
 mother was a good woman." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, she certainly was a good woman ; 
 though many persons looked down on her for one sad 
 fault she was lured into. Her sin brought years of 
 sorrow to her and to mc also ; but she truly repented of 
 it, and she died in peace, trusting in Christ for pardon 
 and salvation, so I am sure she has got safe to heaven." 
 
 "If so, she is happy enough now, and we need not 
 be troubled about her. If I were as well prepared for 
 death as she was, I would not fret if I knew that my 
 poor dead body would be buried at sea, or on a battle-
 
 QUESTIONING HIS GRANDMOTHER. 173 
 
 field. But I say, grandmother, I wish you would tell 
 me a little of my mother's history, and the name and 
 occupation of my father," added Ben entreatingly. 
 You know I have often expressed a wish to know all 
 particulars, and you are the only one I can question on 
 the subject. I do not think you can have any good 
 reason for not telling me what I so much wish to know. 
 I am not a child now, grandmother, and I can under- 
 stand all you say to me. I can't conceive why you 
 make such a mystery of my origin." 
 
 The old lady sighed as she replied, " I have no reason 
 for not telling you all you want to know, my dear, ex- 
 cept that it is a very painful subject for me to touch 
 upon ; and it cannot do you any good to know of your 
 father's profligacy and your mother's lifelong suffering." 
 
 " I should much like to know all you can tell me about 
 them both. It is a natural wish, grandmother, and if" 
 you still refuse to gratify it, I shall be sorely grieved." 
 
 " I would not grieve you again for all the world, my 
 boy. No, no ; I have suffered too much for grieving 
 you before. You shall hear all about your dear mother 
 and your cruer father ; but it is a long, sad story, Ben — 
 a very sad story." 
 
 " Well, you shall not begin to tell it now," said Ben, 
 and he kissed his grandmother fondly. " You have had 
 too much excitement to-day already; besides, my friend 
 Mr. Shorter will be back presently. Some other time, 
 when we can sit down here by ourselves without fear of 
 being disturbed, you shall tell me about it. Now let 
 me know all the pleasant news of the neighbourhood," 
 he added, by way of changing her thoughts from the 
 painful subject. " How is my pretty little sweetheart, 
 Jenny .-* Ha, ha ! what a mistake the folks made who 
 said I drowned myself for love ! "
 
 174 I^ THE DEPTHS' OF THE SEA. 
 
 " Humph ! sweetheart indeed ! She ran away with a 
 soldier eight months ago, and her mother is half-crazy 
 about her." 
 
 " Then it is lucky for me that I ran away as a sailor," 
 said Ben, smiling. " If I had stopped at home and 
 married Jenny, I should have made a bad bargain, I fear, 
 the worst bad bargain a young fellow can make in life." 
 
 " Indeed you would, my dear ! You would have had 
 a dolly for a wife, and not a dumb dolly either. She 
 could talk, and there wasn't much common-sense in her 
 head to guide her tongue, that's why I disliked to hear 
 her. I knew what she was, Ben, though you never 
 would hear a word I had to say against her; and I 
 declare to you that the only thing which seemed to 
 console me, when I was mourning for your death, was 
 the idea that you were spared from the misery of being 
 the husband of that silly, heartless girl. Oh, dear me ! 
 that would have been a trial to me ! " 
 
 " It certainly was a fortunate escape for me, grand- 
 mother. But it was also lucky for mc that I fell in love 
 with Jenny ; for my doing so made you fidgety with 
 mc, and made me dissatisfied with my home. It was 
 very wrong of mc to run away from you as I did, and 
 cause you so much anxiety ; but I was punished for it 
 by the remorse I felt for my rashness. After all, you 
 see it has turned out a good thing for me. I have 
 escaped being tied for life to a troublesome wife, and 1 
 have had a cruise round the world, which has taught me 
 more of men and manners than I should have learnt in 
 twenty years in my old workshop, and I have come 
 back to you safe and sound, with a {q\w pounds in my 
 pocket to share with you." 
 
 " Deary, deary me ! it docs seem truly marvellous ! 
 1 can hardly realize it," said the widow, and she gave
 
 WASTED TEARS. ■ 175 
 
 Ben another loving hug. " To think that you have 
 been actually all round the wide world, and over the 
 great and mighty sea, and here you are again, strong 
 and lively, and none the worse for all the ups and 
 downs that you have seen ! wonderful ! But only fancy, 
 my love, that I should so often have sat weeping on 
 that strange man's grave on Sunday afternoons ! Ah, 
 you may laugh, Ben, but it's a solemn thing to me." 
 
 " Beg your pardon, grandmother ; I won't laugh again." 
 
 " No, don't, dear ! The three and threepence I' paid 
 for flower roots and a Christmas-box to the sexton 
 will be all a loss, I suppose, but it's only fair that I 
 
 should get back the burial fees and the hey, save 
 
 us ! What's that noise .? " 
 
 " Don't be frightened, grandmother ; it's only some 
 noisy tinker hammering at the shop door." 
 
 "Oh, my! how that boy did make me jump, to be 
 sure 1 His tin mug jangles like a fire-bell." 
 
 " He is an impatient customer, whoever he is. I hope 
 he doesn't come very often .-' " said Ben. 
 
 " It's poor little Joey Finch, I know him by his mug. 
 Excuse me a minute, Ben. I must go and open the 
 door, or he'll stop there rapping till midnight." Axyay 
 trotted the old lady into her shop. Presently she came 
 back and sat down again in her easy-chair. " I wouldn't 
 have opened the door to serve any other customer with 
 a ha'porth of treacle, but I always pity that poor child, 
 because all the people in the neighbourhood seem to be 
 against him." 
 
 " Who is Joey Finch, grandmother } " 
 
 "Oh, you don't know him, dear. His mother came 
 to live at No. 40 soon after you went awa}-. Every- 
 body says the poor child is silly, and he hasn't a friend 
 in the street ; but I verily beheve he has more honesty,
 
 176 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 if he has less cunning sense, than the folks have who 
 are always thumping or teasing him ; and he has a kind, 
 affectionate heart, which is more than any of his enemies 
 have got. It is cruelly strange that an inoffensive, for- 
 lorn creature, who is deserving of pity and sympathy, 
 should get nothing but hard usage ; but I believe the 
 Lord keeps a special watch and guard over such poor 
 helpless ones." 
 
 "I believe it too, grandmother; and any one who 
 persecutes them will sooner or later be punished for it. 
 When Joey comes to the shop again, give him this six- 
 pence ; but you needn't say it came from me." 
 
 " Thankee, Ben. He will be pleased, sure enough ! 
 I have taken notice of little Joey since you left, and 
 he has naturally got fond of me — love begets love, you 
 know, Ben. To tell you the truth, if you hadn't come 
 back, I meant to have left all my goods and chattels to 
 the Rector, in trust for the poor boy. But what was I 
 going to say when Joey tapped at the door with his tin 
 pot and startled me so much ? " 
 
 " I think it was my turn to speak then, grandmother," 
 replied Ben, who did not want to hear any more of 
 her lamentations over the strange man in his mother's 
 grave. " I was going to say — but I'm afraid you will be 
 vexed with me " 
 
 " No, dear, I shall not. You won't say anything to 
 hurt my feelings, I'm sure. I always like you to speak 
 out your mind." 
 
 " Well, I was about to say tliat I wonder you have 
 not found some one to love, bigger than little Joey Finch 
 — to speak more plainly, that you have not got married 
 again, grandmother, to some nice, comfortable old man." 
 
 "Mercy 'pon us, laddie! How can you think of such 
 nonsense ? Well, I never heard the like in this house !
 
 EARL\ RECOLLECTIONS. 177 
 
 Married, indeed ! Oh dear me ! never mention such a 
 thing again, there's a good boy ! Many, many times 
 have I said to myself, when sitting warming my night- 
 cap by the fire, in cold winter weather, Oh how glad and 
 thankful I am that I haven't a coughing old man to 
 fidget me, as poor Mrs. Betts next door has." 
 
 "Why, grandmother!" exclaimed Ben, with feigned 
 seriousness, " haven't I often and often heard you speak 
 most lovingly of dear grandfather, and lament that he 
 was dead and gone } " 
 
 "Ah, that you have, dear, and so you will again, 
 perhaps ; but that's another matter altogether. Yes, 
 yes, my own dear old man, who was my young man 
 once — of course I wish I had him, poor darling ! He 
 wouldn't fidget me if he were always coughing — not 
 he, indeed ! And it would be a happiness to me to 
 nurse and comfort him. I thought you meant a new 
 old man, Ben ; that's what made me speak up so sharply. 
 I beg your pardon, dear." 
 
 Soon afterwards, Frank came back after his long 
 ramble about the East End of London, and while they 
 were having tea he highly amused Ben and Mrs. Bruce 
 with his quaint remarks on the changes he had noticed 
 in the haunts of his early roystering days. Near the site 
 of the Blue Anchor tap, where he first saw his fickle 
 sweetheart, Maggie Deap, a seamen's chapel was erec- 
 ted ; and a gin-palace, almost as gorgeous as a Chinese 
 joss-house, had replaced the old tavern. Jolly Sailor, at 
 VVapping, where he had often paid out his hard earnings 
 for the fun of a night's mad revelry, and the" misery of 
 a headache the next morning. He said he had tried to 
 find the slop-seller who thirty years ago sold him a 
 monkey-jacket made of shoddy cloth, and it blew to 
 pieces before the voyage was half-way through, and 
 
 N
 
 178 TN THE DEPTHS 01' THE SEA. " 
 
 caused him many a cold shiver. But the slop-shop 
 was turned into a coal and potato warehouse, with a 
 fresh tenant. 
 
 " I hardly expected to find the rogue with his trade 
 flourishing after so many years," added Frank. " If I 
 had come across him, I meant to have told him of his 
 cruel cheatery ; but ^iverhaps he has been reminded of it 
 in another place before this. It is my belief that rogues 
 who sell shoddy clothing to poor sailors and other hard- 
 working men, will come in for much the same sort of 
 punishment, by-and-by, that grudging shipowners will 
 get who send old worm-eaten crafts to sea badly found 
 in standing and running gear and sails, and with un- 
 wholesome provisions in the store-room." 
 
 "Ah! that is shocking wickedness!" said grand- 
 mother warmly. There is a lot of cheatery in trade 
 novv-a-days, as I sometimes find out to my cost in my 
 small way of dealing — adulteration, short weights, false 
 labels, and other dishonest tricks, but to put bad pro- 
 visions on board ship for the use of poor sailors, who 
 have no chance to help themselves to better fare when 
 far at sea, is the most shamefaced roguery the world 
 ever saw ; and 1 am horrified to think that British 
 shipowners would ever do such things. It is as bad as 
 slow poisoning." 
 
 " I wish everybody hated cheatery as much as you do, 
 grandmother," said Ben ; and then by way of changing 
 the subject, as he saw the dear old lady was getting 
 excited again, he asked Frank if he was a native of 
 London East, as he seemed to be so familiar with its 
 noisy streets and alleys. 
 
 "No, Ben, I'm not a cockney. I was born in one ot 
 the prettiest grc(?n lanes that can be found in Bucking- 
 hamshire ; but I used to know rather too much about
 
 FRANK'S STORY. 179 
 
 the back slums of Wapping and Limehouse after I 
 became a sailor. When I came off a voyage I spent 
 much of my time thereabouts, while my money lasted. 
 My father used to work in a water-mill, near Leigh- 
 ton Buzzard, and so soon as I was able to yell loud 
 enough to scare rooks off the corn-fields, I was hired 
 for that game by Farmer Gibbs, at a shilling a week. 
 After I grew bigger I went to work in the flour-mill 
 with father, for a year or two. It was in a real pretty 
 valley, sure enough ! The birds used to flit among the 
 trees that grew by the mill-stream, and sing away all 
 day long to the music of the water sparkling over the 
 dam. I think I got my longing for a life on the water 
 when paddling about on that mill-pond in a tub. Those 
 were the happiest days of my life ; and perhaps it's a 
 pity I did not think so then, and stop in my native 
 village. But boys aren't always wise — any more than 
 fuH-grown men are." 
 
 " How did you come to leave your native village, 
 Frank?" 
 
 " I don't mind telling you, Ben ; but I daresay grand- 
 mother would sooner hear you talk to-night — it's natural 
 enough that she should. My yarn won't interest her 
 much, and she mightn't like to hear it at all." 
 
 Grandmother and Ben each declared that they would 
 much like to hear Frank's story ; so, thus encouraged, he 
 began : 
 
 "As I said before, I used to work in the mill with 
 my father, and we had a good master. Our wages were 
 low, but most working men have low wages in this 
 country. Master said I wasn't a bad boy to work, 
 and I wasn't what you may call a real vicious fellow, 
 though I say it myself. I was fond of snaring hares 
 and rabbits, and I could handle a gun pretty well. I
 
 i8o IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 had never got caught at my poachhig tricks, so I grew 
 over bold, and, boy-Hke, I didn't see much harm in hav- 
 ing a bit of sport now and then. One evening young 
 Gibbs, the farmer's son, coaxed me to go with him to 
 see if we could catch a hare or two on his uncle's- farm. 
 He had a net, which he fastened over the gate of a field 
 of barley, and told me to watch outside for the hare, as 
 it would be sure to run for the gate. I knew what to 
 do, for I had often done it before; so I said, 'All right, 
 Ned,' and away he went round the field with his dog 
 to rouse the hare up. I hadn't been waiting above ten 
 minutes when I heard something coming along full tear. 
 Of course I thought it was a hare, and a big one too, by 
 the noise he made. Presently it galloped into the net, 
 and I fell upon it to keep it from getting away again, 
 when, oh, Jeremy ! didn't my heart jump ! It was an old 
 badger, and it nipped hold of my thigh like a mad dog. 
 My wig, Ben, how I did roar ! I was scared, you may 
 depend, and I shouted for Ned Gibbs with all my might ; 
 but he had scudded off over hedges and ditches and 
 away home by the shortest cut, for he thought the 
 gamekeeper had caught me, and he didn't want to be 
 caught himself. That's the way of the world again, 
 Ben : scrubby fellows who will tempt you into wrong- 
 doing arc the very first to desert you if you get into 
 trouble over it, as you arc pretty sure to do. 
 
 " In struggling to escape I got twisted up in the net 
 — a regular tangle, so that neither I nor the badger 
 could get out again ; and there I lay and roared, and 
 the brute scratched and gnawed at me till I was pretty 
 nigh half dead with pain and fright. After a while, who 
 should come racing up but old Coleman, the gamekeeper 
 — the very man I didn't want to see, 'Yah! stop your 
 yelling, you young reptile,' grumbled the keeper; and he
 
 HOW HE BECAME A SAILOR. i8i 
 
 tried to catch hold of me, in the dark, but he took hold 
 of the badger, and it grabbed him by the wrist. Oh dear, 
 how the old fellow did rave for a minute or two ! When 
 he had shaken me out of the net, he said, ' Oho ! Frank 
 Shorter, is it ? Got you at last, have I ? I've been 
 hunting for you many a night. There's the treadmill 
 for you, you vagabond ! Come on ! no good of your 
 yelling now.' 
 
 " He held me fast by the collar and dragged me off 
 to the village cage. My father didn't know where I was 
 till next morning, and then he managed to bail me out. 
 But I was afraid to stop to go before the justice, for I 
 knew I should be severely punished, and I was ashamed 
 to face my neighbours in the village, to be laughed and 
 jeered at, and perhaps be nicknamed ' Badger' ; so I ran 
 off' to London, and I never heard that any one ran after 
 me, which is a sign that I wasn't much wanted. It 
 would be too long a story to tell you to-night all the 
 troubles I went through before I could get any one to 
 take me as a sailor-boy ; but at last I got a ship, and I 
 have been a wandering sailor ever since. That is a little 
 of my early history, Ben. No, no, my boy, don't beg my 
 pardon : you won't offend me by laughing at my dis- 
 aster, never fear ; and it will serve me right if you blame 
 me too. But I am going to say, before I stop talking, 
 you see what a simple affair will sometimes alter the 
 whole course of a man's life-career. Perhaps if it had 
 not been for that savage badger jumping into the net 
 instead of a hare, I should have stopped quietly in my 
 native village, and have been a miller's man to this day, 
 without having seen a wider sheet of water than my 
 master's mill-pond. Likely enough I should have mar- 
 ried Tilly Yates, the thatcher's daughter, and might have 
 been a happy grandfather by this time, instead of being
 
 1 82 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 an old roving, reckless sailor, without a home or habita- 
 tion to call my own, or a soul in the world that cares a 
 copper for me, except it be yourself, Ben, and your dear 
 old grandmother here."
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " Be thou as chaste as ice, and pure as snow, 
 Thou shalt not escape calumny." 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
 Mrs. Bruce willingly agreed to Ben's proposal, that he 
 and Frank should lodge with her for awhile. By a 
 little good management and the purchase of a few extra 
 articles of furniture, they were each accommodated with 
 a room, and were well pleased with their comfortable 
 quarters. Their evenings were usually spent in the 
 widow's little back parlour ; and she was never weary of 
 hearing Frank's exciting tales of the sea. She said that 
 she should henceforward like sailors, as a class, though 
 she had felt a strong prejudice against them ever since 
 the foggy night, years ago, when two bargemen sneaked 
 into her shop and stole her whole stock of cut tobacco, 
 and three Dutch cheeses. 
 
 Frank had made good progress in navigation under 
 the tuition of Mr. Wallace. He mastered all the in- 
 tricacies of plain sailing, and could take the sun's 
 meridian altitude for latitude, or a morning's altitude 
 for longitude. He had also learned a little of trigo- 
 nometry ; but he wanted to know more of it, and there 
 were other things essential for him to know, before he 
 could pass an examination, which Mr. Wallace had .not 
 time, and perhaps not skill enough, to teach him. Frank 
 soon made the acquaintance of a sea captain, who lived 
 
 1S3
 
 i84 IN THE DEPTHS OF THElSEA. 
 
 near to Mrs. Bruce. He had commanded a ship in the 
 Quebec trade ; but when returning home on his last 
 voyage, timber laden, and with a heavy deck-load, he 
 fell in with bad weather and his ship capsized. He was 
 for several days clinging to the wreck and endured great 
 suffering, and five of his crew were frozen to death. 
 The survivors were rescued and brought to London by 
 one of the mail packets. But the captain was so 
 crippled, by long exposure to cold and wet, that he was 
 unfit for sea service ; and having no reserve fund of his 
 own to draw upon, he was reduced to great straits, and 
 had hard work — as he expressed it — to claw off the bleak 
 lee-shore of destitution. He was willing, for a moderate 
 consideration, to teach Frank all he wanted to know to 
 pass a second mate's examination ; so he paid daily 
 visits to the house of his tutor with strict punctuality 
 His tasks appeared formidable at first, but by steady 
 efforts he mastered them, and would often wonder at 
 the simplicity of a thing, which he had fancied was 
 altogether too hard for his weak head ; and he owned 
 that the knottiest problem or the most puzzling rule he 
 mastered in any of his books on navigation, was, after, 
 all, much easier work than reefing a foresail in a gale ot 
 wind, or rigging out a jury bowsprit. 
 
 The news of Ben's return home soon spread through 
 the immediate neighbourhood, and caused almost as 
 much excitement as the " Cock-lane Ghost," of ancient 
 memory. Those persons who had sworn to his identity, 
 at the coroner's inquest on the dead body before alluded 
 to, were obliged to admit that they were wrong, but 
 they tried to cover their mistake by the old cry of 
 puzzled savans, " That there was some mystery in the 
 affair which they could not fathom." Ben's genteel 
 attire gained him a form of respect from his old
 
 EXCITEMENT ABOUT BEN. 185 
 
 acquaintances, for he was supposed to have made money 
 on his travels. The encouraging smirks of Miss Fox, 
 the dressmaker, were properly estimated by him, for he 
 remembered that she had never deigned to notice him 
 when he wore a workman's corduroy suit. Some of his 
 former shopmates were anxious to know how he had 
 managed to make a fortune in twelve months, and all of 
 them seemed willing to start off to the antipodes if they 
 could insure similar success. It is but fair to Ben to 
 state that he did not do or say anything to encourage 
 the general belief that he was rich : he never spoke of 
 his affairs outside of his grandmother's house, and his 
 reputed wealth was merely the coinage of his poor 
 neighbours' fancies. It was simply enough imagined, in 
 those days, that all returned colonists from Australia 
 were laden with gold, like busy bees with yellow wax. 
 
 The excitement of the public mind in Back Street 
 was for a time favourable to Mrs. Bruce's trade, and the 
 influx of customers to her shop was more than her fail- 
 ing strength could manage, so she was obliged to have 
 a girl to help her. Every fresh customer asked kindly 
 after her grandson, and the old lady felt quite proud to 
 think that Ben had so many loving friends. But it was 
 soon plain enough to him that there was not much 
 solidity in all that outward show of respect, and that he 
 was expected to pay for it, either in coin or in some 
 fraternal manifestation. He was polite as usual to 
 all his old neighbours, but he had no desire for a closer 
 intimacy with them ; indeed, he had not time to spare 
 for friendly intercourse with them all, had he desired it 
 His reserved bearing soon nettled the pride of some of 
 the folks, and stirred up envy and jealousy and other 
 uncharitable feelings, and he was subjected to much petty 
 annoyance which at times sorely tried his patience.
 
 1 86 AV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 To be recognised in a community as a poor man is 
 not always grateful to one's feelings ; and to be 
 esteemed a rich man while you know yourself to be in 
 straitened circumstances, perhaps financially embar- 
 rassed, is, to say the least, a very doubtful advantage 
 ■ To answer the numerous applicants for aid to charitable 
 objects with reluctant excuses, and to witness incredulous 
 shrugs when you explain " that you really cannot afford 
 it just now," is misery to an honest, liberal heart, which 
 can only be fully understood by those who have experi- 
 enced it. Ben Bruce's reputed wealth was more em- 
 barrassing to him than the worst phases of poverty he 
 had known. Many of his indigent neighbours stopped 
 him in the streets with their tales of woe, and humbly 
 begged him to help them for old acquaintance sake ; 
 and some of his former shopmatcs asked for the loan of 
 a little cash, to redeem tools and chattels which they 
 were obliged to pawn last winter, when work was so 
 slack. Ben candidly told each applicant that he had 
 no money to spare ; but some only shook their heads 
 mournfully and renewed their entreaties for help, which 
 plainly showed that they did not believe him, while 
 others pettishly called him hard names, and walked 
 away offended. If Ben had told them the plain fact, 
 that all the cash he owned when he landed in England 
 was twenty-two pounds, it would not have helped him 
 to stave off his poverty-stricken shopmatcs, for they 
 would most likely have continued to crave money from 
 him, until they were sure he had not a single coin left. 
 Such greedy beggars are never satisfied. 
 
 After he had lived on" shore a week, he prudently 
 began to consider what he had better turn his attention 
 to for a livelihood. His. own trade of hat-box maker 
 was still very dull, and many hands were out of work.
 
 FRANK'S ADVICE. 1S7 
 
 Moreover, he had seen enough of Hfe in the AustraHan 
 colonies to create a distaste in his mind for the hard 
 work and small pay of a London factory hand, so he had 
 no serious thoughts of turning to that work again, and 
 what else to turn to he could not decide, though he spent 
 several days and nights cogitating the subject. His 
 kind old grandmother proposed that he should stay with 
 her, and add a greengrocery department to her shop, 
 with a coal and wood yard at the back ; but Ben urged 
 that he did not understand the greengrocery trade, and 
 that there were already three coal and wood dealers in 
 the street ; furthermore, he said, he could not carry on 
 that business without a donkey and cart, and he did 
 not know how to drive. He might have added, that he 
 was not willing to learn to drive a donkey in London 
 streets. 
 
 " Take things coolly, mate," said Frank, when Ben 
 appealed to him for advice in his perplexity. " You 
 could never take a good altitude of the sun if you 
 didn't keep your sextant steady. Ah, you may smile at 
 my show of science, Ben, but it's a fact, and the prin- 
 ciple of the thing can be applied as far as you like. I 
 have seen a lot of scared passengers on board ship clap 
 on to a clewline in a squall, and pull and tug away like 
 mad fellows, but the sail aloft might flap into shreds 
 before they could snug it up, because they were too 
 flurried to pull together. They only exhausted their 
 strength for nothing. But if half the number of able 
 seamen were to go at the clewline, with a strong steady 
 pull altogether, the sail would be hauled up all snug in 
 no time. Now just take that hint, Ben, and don't waste 
 your spirits in worry and flurry, and depend on it you 
 will make more . headway whatever you go at. You 
 haven't been on shore much over a week, and have
 
 1 88 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 hardly had time to tell all your travelling news to your 
 grandmother. Take it easy a bit longer, messmate, 
 and we shall see what luck will turn up before our money 
 bags are emptied. Oh, the donkey be blowed ! Don't 
 say any more to me about it. I won't agree to your 
 driving a costermonger's cart : you had better go to sea 
 again as cook's mate than do that. But cheer up, Ben ! 
 If I pass my examination for a second mate's certificate 
 as I hope to do, I'll make a snug opening for you, never 
 fear." 
 
 " You are very kind, Frank ; and your advice is always 
 worth attending to. I have a notion that before I 
 settle down to real work I ought to take a trip into 
 Durham, and deliver Dumby's Bible to his mother, if I 
 can find her. The thing is always on my mind, and I'd 
 like to do it, though I cannot well afford the expense. 
 What do you think > " 
 
 " Why I think you ought to do it, to be sure, Ben. I 
 forgot about that job, and it is one of the identical things 
 that you came to England for. Go and find out 
 Dumby's mother by all means, poor old soul ! She will 
 be glad to see you, no doubt. I wouldn't mind going 
 with you, but I must stick to my lessons. My tutor is 
 anxious to turn me out shipshape, and is taking extra 
 pains with me, so I must keep hard at it, though I some- 
 times think this old head of mine will crack with being 
 crammed too full of knowledge. If I ever have any 
 money to spare, Ben, I'll do for that poor frost-bitten 
 skipper what his rich owner ought to have done for him 
 long ago — I'll pension him for life. Any way, I'll take 
 care that he doesn't have an empty 'bacca box for some 
 months to come." 
 
 Ben was aware of his grandmother's weakness for 
 chatting across her counter, and he had heard some of
 
 BEN'S JOURNEY TO DURHAM. 189 
 
 the incidents of his travels related to her gossiping 
 customers, so he was careful not to tell her anything 
 that he was not willing for her to make public, lest in 
 her desire to magnify him she should incautiously let it 
 out. She had no idea that anything save pure love for 
 her had induced Ben to return to England ; and as it 
 would not have comforted her to lose that impression, he 
 never spoke of his mission to Dumby's relatives. The 
 old lady was somewhat anxious to know why he wished 
 to go to Durham ; but as he did not seem willing to tell 
 her, she did not press her inquiries. She was very care- 
 ful to avoid vexing him in any way, lest he should run 
 away again. 
 
 I have before stated, that Ben had a good-looking 
 face, and a fine manly figure ; and although he had not 
 moved in refined society, he had a natural dignity of 
 manner which some men of more cultured minds do not 
 possess. He was obliged to tolerate coarseness and 
 vulgarity occasionally in the persons he had been thrown 
 in contact with, in the workshop and on board ship, but 
 in his heart he loathed it. The society of Mr. Wallace 
 on board the Monarcli Vv^as very agreeable to him, and 
 he learnt much from that young gentleman's polite de- 
 portment which strangely contrasted with the noisy 
 behaviour of his brother midshipmen. Frank, though 
 unpolished in his address, had more delicacy of feeling 
 than the generality of men of his class. He used to say 
 that he picked up his good manners when he was 
 doctor's man in the navy. Ben had never heard Frank 
 utter, an oath, or even hint at anything that was obscene 
 or unchaste ; indeed, he always showed his disgust if any 
 of his shipmates indulged their propensities in that way, 
 and on that account Ben was disposed to look lightly at 
 some defects in Frank's character and temper. Ben's
 
 I90 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 studies on board ship tended to expand his mind (which 
 had not received much culture), and to create a desire 
 for more useful knowledge, which he longed for oppor- 
 tunities of acquiring. Hence, it will be judged, that he 
 did not find the society of Back Street congenial to his 
 taste, and he always felt more dignified and manlike 
 when he was away from that locality. " A prophet is 
 not without honour," etc. 
 
 When he was leaving his home on Monday morning, 
 his grandmother remarked, with affectionate pride, that 
 he looked quite a gentleman. If Ben felt comforted by 
 the compliment, he was not allowed to enjoy the nice 
 feeling long, for as he passed down the street on his way 
 to the station, with a small travelling bag under his arm, 
 he was an object of attraction to the staring neighbours, 
 one of whom jeeringly commented on his superfine 
 clothes, and asked if he had paid his tailor. Ben passed 
 on without apparently hearing the rude remarks ; and he 
 reflected that in all his travels round the world, and amid 
 the crowds of strangers in Sydney and Melbourne, his 
 feelings were not. subjected to so much mortification as 
 they had been for the few days since he returned to his 
 childhood's home. When he moved out of his native 
 street he felt his confidence gradually returning, and soon 
 afterwards he was rolling along on the Great Northern 
 Railway, amongst delightful upland and woodland 
 scenery, and feeling that he was a man, though some 
 of his old neighbours would try to make him fancy he 
 was still the boy Ben, Mr. Chippct's pauper apprentice, 
 and that it was presumptuous for him to hold his head 
 up straight. 
 
 The change from a sort of cooped-up existence in 
 crowded London to the life-blessing liberty of the coun- 
 try, with its wholesome air and freshness and beauty, can
 
 THE OLD COUNTRY. 191 
 
 only be appreciated by those who have experienced its 
 inspiriting influence. As I now sit at my desk in a rural 
 retreat at the antipodes, I have keen recollections of 
 several winters lately spent in England, and which, after 
 forty years' residence in sunny Australia, most severely 
 -tried my semi-tropical constitution. Especially do I 
 remember the very cold winter of 1880; I shall never 
 forget it. Mainly for the sake of getting into a warmer 
 locality, I left my country home (very pleasant in sum- 
 m.er, but bleak in winter), and took apartments for six 
 months in one of the southern suburbs of London. I 
 was pretty well occupied with literary work, which I 
 could do by the fireside, and I was not obliged to goout 
 of doors, though I liked to go out as often as practicable, 
 for the sake of fresh air and exercise, and I was some- 
 times curious to know how London looked when its . 
 streets and housetops were covered with snow and 
 icicles. 
 
 Well do I remember how gladly I hailed the brief 
 intervals of slanting sunshine in early spring ! How I 
 used to muffle up like a North Sea pilot, and ramble 
 through some of the lanes of Dulwich and Norwood, to 
 see if the rooks had begun to build in the tall elm-trees, 
 or to try if I could find a solitary hawthorn bud opening 
 into leaf How longingly I wished the flowery month 
 of May to come, when my London tenancy was to 
 cease, and I hoped to return to the country for a holiday 
 rest. And when the long sighed for day of departure 
 arrived, and I packed up my baggage and started by 
 train for my rural home, and the society of valued 
 friends again, my heart bounded with a sort of school- 
 boy's hilarity, or with the kicking gladness of a released 
 cab-horse. 
 
 A traveller on the Great Eastern Railway can hardly
 
 192 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 fail to notice the dismal prospect of tiled roofs, smoking 
 chimney-pots, and the back-yards of numberless uncom- 
 fortable-looking tenements, for a mile or two after the 
 train leaves the Liverpool-street station ; but when the 
 engine begins to puff along at an increased speed, and 
 the green fields and woods and brooks come in sight, 
 what a blessed relief he feels in his heart and lungs and 
 spirits ! He has left noisy, smoky London, behind, and 
 feels as if he does not want to see it again in a hurry — 
 or that is just how I felt as I sped down in an express 
 train, one bright day at the end of May, after the excep- 
 tionally cold winter before alluded to. The snow and 
 icicles and cold shiverings were all forgotten in the 
 present enjoyment of spring warmth and holiday elas- 
 ticity of spirits. How exhilarating it was to sit by the 
 carriage window and see the old village churches, and 
 farmhouses, and stackyards, and windmills, as they 
 seemed to rush past us at the lively rate of forty miles 
 an hour! The blossoming trees and hedgerows, and 
 green cornfields, and meadows with sleek-looking cattle 
 and frisky sheep, nearly up to their knees in grass and 
 buttercups — all added to the pleasing variety of the 
 moving panorama. The little red-faced village children, 
 who shouted hurrah ! at the rushing train, looked bright 
 as angels compared with some of the poor sickly child- 
 ren of the crowded parts of the great city. 
 
 When I got to my quiet home again (in one of the 
 most picturesque parts of Essex), I fancied that all the 
 spring daisies on the lawn seemed to smile at me, while 
 the sweetbrier and blossoming hawthorn trees, and the 
 honeysuckle in the hedges, almost overpowered me with 
 fragrance. The graceful laburnums and the tall chestnut- 
 trees in the background, had put on their best flowery 
 garbs to cheer mc up. Even the big holly-trees tried to
 
 BEN BRUCE' S JOURNEY. 193 
 
 look springy — they had shaken off all their old red 
 berries, or the birds had eaten them, and were covered 
 with white blossoms, which promised a crop of red 
 clustering berries when Christmas came round again. 
 The wild flowers under the hedges too were all alive, and 
 seemed to say to me, in their homely way, " Here we are 
 again, master : we know ygu love to see us, though we 
 aren't so grand as garden flowers. Welcome home ! 
 welcome home ! " Oh how glad I was to be at rest 
 again — for a while ! 
 
 Dear old England ! How much I wish that every one 
 of your sons loved you as well as I do ; and that they 
 could all honestly join me in saying, "God save our 
 gracious Queen ! " In the present agitation for fresh 
 annexation of territory, I sometimes feel concerned lest 
 the latter part of the following stanza of the late poet, 
 James Montgomery, should be realized — which Heaven 
 forbid : — 
 
 " O Britain ! dear Britain ! the land of my birth ! 
 O Isle most enchantingly fair ! 
 Thou pearl of the ocean, thou gem of the earth, 
 O my mother ! my mother ! beware ! 
 For wealth is a phantom, and empire a snare : 
 O let not thy birthright be sold 
 For reprobate glory and gold : 
 Thy distant dominiojis like wild graftings shoot, 
 They weigh down thy trunk — they will tear up thy root.'" 
 
 Tender recollections of home life have tempted me to 
 digress from my story, for which I beg pardon. 
 
 Ben Bruce vastly enjoyed his long ride through several 
 beautiful counties of England, and it was a treat for him 
 such as he had never had before. On his arrival at the 
 
 old town of S he went to the Red Lion Inn, and 
 
 engaged a bed for the night. While he was partaking 
 
 O
 
 194 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 of a homely meal, which the landlady herself placed on 
 the table for him in a little back room, he made a few 
 inquiries about the family he was in quest of; and 
 learned that the IMarshalls lived at Newby Hall, a few 
 miles off, and that a coach ran past the lodge gate three 
 times a day. He further learnt that Mr. Marshall senior 
 had been dead about a year, and that his only son, 
 Henry, had been expected home to take possession of 
 the estate ; but news had lately arrived from Melbourne 
 that he was dead. Old Mrs. Marshall and her grand- 
 daughter were living at the Hall, but their late troubles 
 had affected them so sorely that they seldom went out 
 of the house, and they never saw any visitors. The 
 landlady also told Ben that if he had any particular 
 business with Mrs. Marshall, he would have to do it 
 through Mr. Mead, the steward of the estate, who lived 
 about a mile off; but he would very likely call at the 
 inn to-morrow on his way to the Hall, as he usually did. 
 The landlady looked as if she would like to know what 
 Ben's business was with Mrs. Marshall; but he was 
 reticent on the subject, and resolved to go to Newby 
 Hall the next day, without any previous application to 
 the steward.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " Dare to be true : nothing can need a lie ; 
 A fault that needs it must grow two thereby." 
 
 — G. Herbert. 
 
 Ben was longer at his toilet the next morning than 
 usual, and he spent nearly half an hour in wriggling his 
 fingers into a pair of new kid-gloves. I have before 
 stated that he was tidy in his personal habits, so it will 
 be inferred that he rightly estimated the usefulness of 
 brushes in his toilet operations, and of course his finger- 
 nails were in a sightly condition. After breakfast, he 
 took another look at himself in the glass, to be sure that 
 he was fit to appear before grand folks ; then he worked 
 his kid-gloves on to his hands again — they fitted him 
 easier than at the first trial — and he was ready for the 
 arrival of the stage-coach which was to take him to 
 Newby Hall. While he was waiting, the landlady again 
 tried to learn his errand, but without success. 
 
 About an hour afterwards, Ben was put down at the 
 lodge gate. As he walked up a long avenue of oak- 
 trees towards the mansion, the death scene of Dumb}- 
 in the forecastle of the Wolf vividly recurred to his 
 mind, and he reflected with sorrow on the miserable end 
 of the man who might have been in possession of that 
 fine estate and an income sufficient for a modest prince. 
 The main part of the house was large and antique in its 
 
 style of architecture. A wing of more ornate design 
 
 195
 
 196 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 was in course of erection at the northern end ; but the 
 work had apparently been stopped suddenly, for, though 
 all the plant and building materials were on the spot, 
 not a single workman was to be seen, and the closed 
 Venetian blinds to every window of the house, with the 
 deathlike stillness all around, cast an air of gloominess 
 over the whole homestead, which contrasted strangely 
 with the beauties of the surrounding landscape. Ben 
 walked up to the front door and pulled the bell-handle 
 very gently. He was beginning to doubt if the bell had 
 tinkled, when the door was noiselessly opened by a 
 footman in mourning livery, who, in reply to Ben's 
 request to sec Mrs. Marshall, said that his mistress could 
 not see visitors ; but he might see ]\Ir. Mead if he 
 wished. 
 
 "Will you please to tell Mrs. Marshall that I have 
 lately come from Australia, and that I have a book to 
 deliver to her from her deceased son ? You can also say, 
 that if she does not wish to see me, I will leave the book 
 with you, and I shall return to London by this evening's 
 train." 
 
 " Oh, will you please to walk in, sir } I think Mrs. 
 Marshall will wish to see you, as you knew her late son 
 in Australia," said the man, with an altered expression ; 
 and he led Ben into a large room, which looked even 
 more gloomy than the outside of the house, for all the 
 curtains were closely drawn down. After awhile his 
 eyes became accustomed to the dingy light, and he 
 began to examine the pictures on the walls. They 
 were a collection of family portraits, and Ben was struck 
 with the close likeness which some of them bore to his 
 late unlucky shipmate. Before he had looked at half of 
 the pictures, the door was opened, and an elderly lady 
 entered the room, with a slow and feeble gait. Ben
 
 "IS AUSTRALIA YOUR HOME?" 197 
 
 advanced a step or two towards her, and made a polite 
 bow. 
 
 " Pray, what is your name ? " she asked. At the same 
 time she gazed at Ben so strangely that he fancied she 
 was not quite sane, and he was sorry he had allowed 
 the servant to call her. 
 
 "My name is Benjamin Bruce, madam." 
 
 " Bruce ! " muttered the lady, with an abstracted air. 
 " Did I rightly understand my servant that you have 
 lately come from Australia } " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, I sailed from Melbourne, and landed in 
 England about ten days ago." 
 
 " Is Australia your home ? Were you born there } " 
 
 " Y — yes, ma'am," replied Ben, blushing deeply : for 
 he felt conscious that he told an untruth. Mrs. Mar- 
 shall's unexpected question caused a rush of dread into 
 his mind, lest he should betray his unhappy origin, and 
 the lie slipped from his tongue almost involuntarily. But 
 the next moment conscience reminded him that he had 
 sacrificed principle to pride, and he was grieved. To 
 retract the lie at once was his first impulse. " But if I 
 do so, I shall show myself to be untruthful, and the lady 
 will naturally suspect my whole story. It must stand 
 as it is for the present." Thus he mentally reasoned 
 with conscience, while he strove to hide his trepidation. 
 
 Mrs. Marshall sat for several minutes gazing at him, 
 with such a peculiar expression in her eyes, that he 
 began again to doubt her sanity. Presently she asked, 
 with a tender earnestness that touched all the sym- 
 pathies of Ben's heart : " You knew my unfortunate 
 son, my darling Harry ! Pray tell me all you know of 
 him. Would to God he had closed his eyes in death 
 when he was an infant ! What bitter anguish it would 
 have saved my poor heart ! "
 
 198 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 Her voice became stifled by emotion, and she was 
 unable to articulate another word. It was a touching 
 scene, and Ben could not help shedding tears. As her 
 paroxysm of grief subsided, he noticed her lips moving 
 as if in silent prayer. At her request he presently 
 related the particulars of her son's death, as given in my 
 fifth chapter. She listened with her head bowed to her 
 breast, as if overburdened with hopeless sorrow. But 
 when Ben told of the dying man's last words, " Good 
 Lord, have mercy upon me ! " she suddenly lifted her 
 head, and exclaimed with startling energy : 
 
 " Oh tell me that again, good sir ! Thank God for the 
 ray of hope which that sentence gives me ! It is written, 
 ' Whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall 
 be saved.' I ivill therefore believe that in the eleventh 
 hour — nay, in the very last minute of his life, my prayers 
 for my wayward, prodigal son have been answered, and 
 that he is saved." She then seized Ben's hands and 
 exclaimed with rapture : " Oh how thankful I am to you, 
 dear sir, for coming to me with these comforting tidings. 
 This is indeed a happy morning for me ! Ever since I 
 received the melancholy news of my dear Harry's death, 
 and the papers which contained his own harrowing 
 account of his profligate career, I have been almost 
 overwhelmed by despair, for I feared he was lost to me 
 for ever. But now my heart is wonderfully lifted up. 
 I know that not one of God's promises shall fail. ' He 
 is faithful who hath promised.' Yes," she ejaculated, 
 with upturned face, which seemed radiant with hope 
 and gratitude, " My precious boy called on the name of 
 the Lord with his last breath, and he is saved. I will 
 believe it." Then, turning again towards Ben, she said, 
 in a tone of affectionate entreaty : " But oh, my dear 
 young gentleman, let mc solemnly warn you not to risk
 
 MRS. MARSHALL OVERCOME. 199 
 
 your eternal fate upon the precarious chance of behig 
 saved in your last hour, for many wretched sinners have 
 been snatched away by sudden death, without even a 
 minute's warning to call upon the name of the Lord. 
 That gracious promise is perhaps given to assuage such 
 hopeless grief as I have lately been suffering — to save 
 poor bereaved parents from despair ; but it would be 
 dangerous presumption for any one to defer his repent- 
 ance to the last moment of his life in reliance on that 
 promise." 
 
 Ben did not know what to say to Mrs. Marshall's 
 touching exhortation, so he made no reply, but took 
 from his pocket her son's Bible, and handed it to her, 
 whereupon her grief broke out afresh, and she sobbed 
 hysterically, as she clasped the book to her bosom. At 
 that moment a young lady, also dressed in deep mourn- 
 ing, entered the room. On seeing the mental distress 
 of Mrs. Marshall, she rushed towards her, and in her 
 excitement did not notice Ben, although he was noticing 
 her with almost reverential feelings. 
 
 " Oh my dear grandma ! Why did you not call me .? " 
 she exclaimed, as she threw her arms affectionately 
 around the old lady's neck. " Tell me, dear grandma, 
 what is the matter ? " 
 
 " I am better now, my love. Pray don't distress your- 
 self, for I am really more joyous than sad. You shall 
 hear the comforting news this young gentleman has 
 brought us of your unfortunate father." The young 
 lady then arose and bowed respectfully to Ben, who 
 returned her bow with all the grace he was master of 
 But he did not feel at ease in her company, for he 
 fancied she could see that his polite deportment was 
 merely put on. In order to relieve his own embarrass- 
 ment, and also to give the ladies an opportunity of
 
 200 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 conversing together, he asked permission to walk round 
 the grounds for a little while, which they willingly 
 granted. Their offer to send a servant with him he 
 bashfully declined. 
 
 Ben had told the driver of the stage-coach to sound 
 his horn at the lodge on his return trip to the city ; so 
 about ten minutes before the time he expected the 
 coach, he went back to the mansion and explained to 
 Mrs. Marshall that he was about to depart. 
 
 " Oh, my dear sir, let me beg of you not to go away so 
 soon ! " said Mrs. Marshall, whose manner had now 
 become calm and collected. " I had no idea that you 
 were in such haste. There is so much that I wish to 
 ask you, and I have much to say in thankfulness to you 
 for your great kindness in coming all the way from 
 London to bring joy and gladness to my home. Do 
 pray stay till to-morrow ! I must ask you to pardon 
 me, Mr. Bruce," she added, as if suddenly recollecting 
 her omission. " I quite forgot to introduce my grand- 
 daughter to you. This is Miss Edith Marshall, Mr, 
 Bruce." 
 
 The young lady stepped gracefully towards him and 
 offered her hand, and said she hoped he would stay 
 awhile with them, as her grandmamma so much wished 
 to talk with him. Ben blushed, and felt again his 
 awkwardness in making a suitable reply ; but modesty 
 is a good guide on such occasions, and Miss Marshall 
 was perhaps better pleased with the icw words he said 
 than she would have been if he had been over talkative. 
 Presently dinner was announced, and though Ben would 
 rather have gone off without a meal than stay and dine 
 in such a grand house, he was constrained to follow the 
 ladies into the dining-hall. lie had not courage enough 
 to offer his arm to cither of them. The dinner was a
 
 BEN'S EMBARRASSMENT. 20t 
 
 plain one, but it was served up in genteel style, and 
 Ben's embarrassment was troublesome to him, though 
 he managed to conceal it pretty well. It was the first 
 time in his life that his plate was handed to him by a 
 butler's boy, and he never before used a silver fork 
 a table napkin, or a finger glass. He had often eaten 
 his dinner off a tin plate, and the bare deck for a table, 
 with more comfort than he then experienced, for he 
 fancied he was being quizzed by the old butler, who 
 stood with his back to a side-board, looking as stolid as 
 a guardsman on duty. Ben was somewhat relieved when 
 dinner was over and they all retired to the drawing- 
 room ; but even there he felt nervous and awkward, and 
 longed to be away, notwithstanding the demeanour of 
 the ladies was very affable, and quite free from all stiff 
 formality. Had they been in a cottage, he would have 
 perhaps felt happy enough in their company ; but the 
 costly surroundings overawed him and impeded the free 
 natural use of his tongue. 
 
 Mrs. Marshall was a benevolent-looking lady, about 
 seventy years of age. She had doubtless been very 
 attractive in her youthful days. It has been said, that 
 " in character, in manners, in style, in all things, the 
 supreme excellence is simplicity " ; and Mrs. Marshall 
 evidently understood that. The usual tenor of her con- 
 versation also denoted that she was a Christian. Miss 
 Marshall was about twenty years of age, with a tall, 
 graceful figure and a handsome face. Recent sorrow 
 had subdued the buoyancy of spirits which was natural 
 to her, for sometimes the sparkle of her dark eyes and 
 a merry play about her mouth, led Ben to believe that 
 she could be funny and frolicsome if circumstances per- 
 mitted. Her manner was easy and natural, and the 
 interest she manifested in Ben's simple narrative of his
 
 202 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 travels round the world made him feel less shy in her 
 company. Still he could not help feeling that he was 
 out of his position, and that he was not polished enough 
 for the society of such refined ladies. In the course of 
 conversation after dinner, he learnt that Miss Marshall 
 was the only daughter of his deceased shipmate, Dumby. 
 When Ben innocently asked her if her mother was alive, 
 she briefly replied in the negative, and her grandmother 
 thereupon remarked, with a natural sigh, " Edith is the 
 only relative I have left to me in the world. Have you 
 any sisters or brothers living, Mr. Bruce ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am, not any," Ben replied ; and he blushed 
 again, for the question reminded him of the falsehood 
 he had uttered at his first meeting with Mrs. Marshall. 
 He dreaded lest she should ask him any more questions 
 about his birthplace or his parentage, so he modestly 
 hinted that he must go, in order to catch the evening 
 train for London. 
 
 " When do you mean to return to your friends in 
 Australia?" asked Mrs. Marshall, as Ben arose to depart. 
 
 " Hem — er — I am not quite certain, ma'am. It will 
 depend on circumstances. Perhaps not for a few 
 months." 
 
 " Oh, I am glad you are going to stay some time in 
 England. I trust you will let us have the pleasure of 
 seeing you again, Mr. Bruce. I shall be very glad it 
 you will come and spend a week or two with us as soon 
 as you can conveniently do so. I don't know how to 
 express my gratitude for your kindness to my poor son, 
 and for the trouble you have taken in coming to see me. 
 I shall never forget the comfort and relief your visit has 
 given mc to-day." 
 
 Ben thanked her for the invitation, and said he would 
 come again and sec her, if his time permitted ; but it
 
 BEN AFRAID TO SPEAK OUT. . 203 
 
 was rather uncertain. Miss Marshall then said, with an 
 earnestness which went direct to his heart : "Oh, do come 
 again, Mr. Bruce ! " to which her grandmother rejoined : 
 " Yes ; I shall quite expect you. And will you favour 
 me with your address in London .-' I think it is likely 
 that my steward may wish to communicate with you." 
 
 That request made Ben feel confused again, and pride 
 at the moment suggested that if he gave the address of 
 his grandmother, the secret of his base origin would 
 soon be known, and what then would they think of 
 him } He certainly would never get another welcome 
 to Newby Hall ; and no doubt Miss Marshall would 
 be ashamed and vexed that she had said, with such 
 winning frankness to a base-born fellow, " Oh, do come 
 again, Mr. Bruce ! " Those perplexing thoughts flashed 
 through his sensitive mind, and then in an instant it 
 occurred to him to give his address at his old employers ; 
 so he said that a letter addressed to him, to the care of 
 Messrs. Chippet Brothers, Bethnal Green, would reach 
 him. 
 
 " I have ordered the carriage, Mr. Bruce," said Mrs. 
 Marshall, seeing that Ben was impatient to be gone. 
 "You will have ample time to meet the mail train for 
 London, so do not be uneasy about it." 
 
 " Oh, please don't trouble to send your carriage with 
 me, ma'am. I am much obliged to you for your kind- 
 ness, but I can walk. I have often walked thrice that 
 distance," said Ben excitedly. But both of the ladies 
 said they should not like to see him walking away while 
 their horses were in the stable and wanting exercise ; 
 so Ben was constrained to yield. Soon afterwards a 
 handsome chariot, with two liveried servants, drove up 
 to the front door. Ben bade adieu to his kind friends 
 and got into the carriage, with more grace than might
 
 204 A'V THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 have been expected, considering that it was the first 
 time in his Hfc that he had been thus honoured. As the 
 footman closed the carriage door, he touched his hat, 
 and asked Ben where he wished to be driven, and was 
 
 told to drive to the Red Lion, at S . 
 
 When Ben alighted at the hotel there was a great stir 
 among the inmates, and he noticed a marked change in 
 the deportment of the landlady. He was honoured with 
 the best room in the house, and was almost overwhelmed 
 with obsequious attention. He did not stay there long, 
 and he felt greatly relieved when he was alone in a 
 corner of a third-class railway carriage. As the train 
 sped on its way to London, Ben was often reflecting on 
 the kind reception he had met with at Newby Hall. 
 Many times the lovely image of Edith Marshall rose 
 before his mental vision, like a beautiful form in a 
 dream — too fascinating for him to gaze upon, and a 
 stanza of one of Lord Byron's minor poems as often 
 flashed to his memory — 
 
 "In flight I shall be surely wise, 
 
 Escaping from temptation's snare ; 
 I cannot view my paradise 
 Without the wish of dwellinsr there."
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 *' Then gently scan your brother man ; 
 Still gentler, sister woman : 
 Though they may go a kennin' wrang, 
 To step aside is human." 
 
 — Bicrns. 
 
 On the evening after Ben's return to London, he and 
 his friend, Frank Shorter, might have been seen slowly 
 walking up and down a secluded pathway, not far from 
 Hackney Church. The moon was shining brightly, but 
 neither of them could appreciate the poetry of moon- 
 light, for they were not in a fanciful mood just then. 
 Ben had been giving his companion a circumstantial 
 account of his visit to Newby Hall ; and Frank listened 
 in moody silence, which plainly indicated that he was 
 not satisfied with Ben's report. At length he muttered, 
 with an unusual sharpness of manner, " I tell you what 
 I think, Ben : you have made a regular bungle of this 
 business. Billy King, the half-witted pieman of Sydney, 
 would have managed it more cleverly." 
 
 " Don't be cross, Frank." 
 
 "Tut! it's enough to make a fellow kick himself! 
 You have wasted a chance that might have been a little 
 fortune to us both — not that I crave money overmuch, 
 but as old Mrs. Marshall is rich and we are poor, it 
 would only be fair for her to pay us for the service we 
 
 205
 
 2o6 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 have done her ; and it's my belief she would have been 
 pleased enough to pay us if you had given her half a 
 chance. I only wish I had been alongside of you ! " 
 
 " I wish you had been, indeed, I own that I have 
 bungled, and I am grieved enough about it, and have 
 been so, for your sake, ever since I left Newby Hall. It 
 cannot be helped now, but I hope it will be a warning 
 to me as long as I live, to speak the truth at all times, 
 however much a lie may promise to help me. That one 
 little unpremeditated slip which I made at my first meet- 
 ing with Mrs, Marshall upset me completely, and made 
 me miserable all the time I was there, for I was in 
 constant dread lest I should let out a word that would 
 prove me a liar, and of course make me look con- 
 temptible." 
 
 " You made a sham ot yourself, Ben, and you know 
 it. That's the way the devil gets to windward of a 
 simpleton. He coaxes him to tell one shabby lie to 
 begin with, and then he must shore it up with a dozen 
 other, lies, for it won't stand alone, I can see plainly 
 enough it was beggarly pride that was at the bottom ot 
 it. You were ashamed to let those fine ladies know that 
 your grandmother was a poor woman, who kept a little 
 huckster's shop at Hackney, so you said you were a 
 native-born Australian, and I suppose you hinted that 
 your parents lived there up to their knees in gold-dust 
 and fine wool ; and then of course Mrs. Marshall thought 
 it would only be insulting you to ask if you had a pocket 
 that would hold a few of her spare sovereigns. Bah ! I 
 thought you were more of a man." 
 
 " I know I deserve blame, Frank, but your cutting 
 remarks arc unfair, I am not ashamed of my grand- 
 mother because she is poor. I have shown a dutiful 
 care for her many years. Bless her dear old heart ! I
 
 GOOD COUNSEL. 207 
 
 should be ashamed of myself if I were so despicably 
 
 mean." 
 
 " What else can you be ashamed of, but her poverty ? 
 The old lady is honest as daylight, and righteous and 
 sober besides ! You mustn't try to deceive me, mate ; 
 I have seen more than one or two little bits of stuck- 
 up pride in you since you came on shore that I never 
 noticed before, and you may take my word for it, that 
 sort of foolery will be back-sail to you in your cruise 
 through life. You may try to make all the folks in 
 England believe that you are as rich as a lucky digger 
 from Nuggetty Gully, but they will soon find out that 
 it's all a sham, like the gilt stuff on a gingerbread watch 
 Your money won't hold out many weeks at the won- 
 derful rate you are going now, and then folks will see 
 what you are made of, and you will be called a fool — 
 and perhaps a rogue too. You needn't get vexed with 
 me, Ben, I am speaking out my opinion honestly — 
 there's no sham about me." 
 
 " I won't get vexed with you if I can help it, Frank. 
 I know you are a real friend to me, but you don't quite 
 understand me or you would not say so much to hurt 
 my feelings. I have no wish to deceive any one in the 
 world. I have never said a word to induce any one to 
 believe that I am rich, neither have I tried to appear 
 poor or put on a beggar's humility — I cannot do that, 
 and I won't do it.* No man can be more economical than 
 I am without being mean or dishonest. It is true I paid 
 a tailor more than I ought to have done soon after I 
 landed, but that was an unlucky mistake, and I now 
 wish I had bought a suit of sailor's clothes ready-made. 
 I told Listey to make me a good plain suit, and he has 
 made me a suit plain enough as to colour, but the cut 
 is too genteel and fashionable for me, and I am often
 
 2o8 LV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 mistaken for a gentleman — in fact, I was treated as a 
 gentleman at Newby Hall," 
 
 "Ah, it is very nice and tickling to your vanity, no 
 doubt ; but that sort of honour goes for nothing at all 
 when a man is getting hungry. It won't serve him for 
 rations." 
 
 " Indeed it isn't very nice to me, Frank, for it seems 
 to excite the envy and malice of some of the people in 
 these parts, who take a savage delight in twitting me 
 about my unhappy history." 
 
 The dejected tone in which Ben spoke touched Frank's 
 sympathy, and he replied in a softened tone, " What is 
 wrong in your history for these savage natives to jeer 
 you about .'' If your grandmother is right in her reckon- 
 ing, you have been one of the best boys in London, 
 barring your running off to sea, which is nothing at all ; 
 and I can answer for your good behaviour since I first 
 fell in with you. I am sorry I touched you up so sharply 
 about your pride, mate, for perhaps it isn't beggarly 
 pride after all, and I never saw anything like sham 
 about you on shipboard. Nature has given you a good- 
 looking face and a smartish figure, and you look more 
 like a gentleman than many warrant officers that I have 
 sailed with. I said as much to your grandmother the 
 morning after you set out on that unlucky cruise, and 
 it made the dear old lady's eyes water with loving 
 glory." 
 
 "It is very kind of you to say all that, Frank, and I 
 am glad you are not really offended with me. Of my 
 personal history I have not much reason to be ashamed, 
 
 though I have nothing to boast of. But, but " Ben 
 
 hesitated for a minute, and then added, nervously, " I 
 may as well tell you, Frank, for you are sure to hear 
 of it in this gossiping place — my dishonourable birth
 
 BEN'S ANXIETIES. 209 
 
 makes me unhappy, positively miserable at times. My 
 parents were not married." 
 
 " Well, you can't help that, Ben ! I don't see why 
 you should hang your honest head down on that score, 
 any more than I should be always fretting because my 
 rascally brother Jem once stole a ship and turned pirate. 
 If that is your top weight of trouble, heave it overboard 
 at once, mate. Nobody with right feeling or common- 
 sense would scorn an honest young fellow for such a 
 misfortune as yours. Are your parents living in 
 Hackney .-• " 
 
 " Oh no : my poor mother has been dead many years, 
 and I have never even heard the name of my father. I 
 don't know who he is, nor where he is, no more than you 
 do. Perhaps if the mystery was removed I should feel 
 less uneasiness, I have never dared to speak to any one 
 on the subject, except to my grandmother; and when- 
 ever I have only just hinted at it she has got so excited 
 that I have stopped questioning her, for I cannot bear 
 to see her in trouble." 
 
 " Shall I try to fish the matter out for you .'' " 
 " No, thank you, Frank. You had better not name 
 the subject. Grandmother has promised to tell me all 
 particulars, and the sooner she does so the better, for 
 this suspense is affecting my spirits more than you have 
 any idea of." 
 
 " You may have a quiet opportunity to-morrow, Ben, 
 for you and grandmother will have the house all to 
 yourselves. I am going into the country for a few 
 days, to rest my brain and breathe a little fresh air, for 
 I am getting as flabby as a live seal in a coal cellar. I 
 hope when I come back from my trip I shall sec you 
 looking more lively. I think }'ou told me that you 
 didn't tell Mrs. Marshall it was you and I that dug 
 
 P
 
 210 AV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 up the tin box in Fitzroy Gardens? And perhaps you 
 didn't ask her what was inside it ? " 
 
 " I did not say a word to her about the box or the 
 parcel of manuscript, for I felt a delicacy in saying any- 
 thing that might cause her fresh sorrow. But don't 
 blame me any more, Frank. I own that I have made a 
 miserable bungle of it ; but I will go to Newby Hall 
 again in a week or two, and then I can tell Mrs, Marshall 
 all about the tin box, and explain everything else as 
 far as I can." 
 
 " All right, mate. I won't say any more to worry you, 
 and I am sorry I said so much. I now understand what 
 has made you look so dreary ever since we landed. Such 
 a blemish in'my history wouldn't trouble me overmuch ; 
 but we are not all formed alike, either in our bodies or 
 our minds, and it would be a hard job for the world if 
 we were. Some fellows would hardly feel a kick from a 
 dray-horse, and other thin-skinned chaps would almost 
 wriggle into fits if a flea got under their shirt-collars. 
 You can understand what I mean. But cheer up, my 
 lad ! Depend on it, whatever fault your parents com- 
 mitted, you are no more responsible for them than you 
 are for any wicked roguery there may be in Dumby's 
 tin box, or for the cannibal tricks of old Chewemup, the 
 hungry chief of Savage Island." 
 
 " I am sorry I left Melbourne, Frank. While I was 
 there amongst strangers I felt comparatively easy in my 
 mind about my family failings ; but I no sooner come 
 back to the place where I was born and reared, and 
 where I might reasonably expect to get sympathy and 
 consideration, than I meet with quite the opposite treat- 
 ment, and I cannot walk down my native street without 
 hearing personal remarks which wound me like poisoned 
 arrows."
 
 FRANK'S LITTLE CRUISE. 211 
 
 " That's the way of the world, Ben, and you can't stop 
 it by fretting over it. You are very sensitive, and that's 
 a troublesome quality to a man who has to live among 
 a rough lot. But cheer up, mate ! Keep your nose 
 above water and your mouth shut, and you'll never 
 drown. We will start off to Melbourne together if I 
 get my certificate, and there you will have a better 
 chance of helping your grandmother than you would 
 if you were to stay and live with her. Ah, that's right, 
 I am glad to see you are brightening up a bit ! Now 
 listen to me a minute longer, and I'll tell you of a nice 
 little cruise I have planned for us both ; but you mustn't 
 talk about it before grandmother, or I shall be laughed 
 at by some of her tattling customers. In a few weeks' 
 time the hops will be in full bloom, and I propose that 
 we take a run down into Sussex and see Widow Blake's 
 friends. I didn't promise her to do so, but I know it 
 will please the dear old lady, and we owe her something 
 for her kindness to us. I mean to pick out the finest 
 hop plant I can find in her father's grounds, and make a 
 fanciful coil or wreath of it to take back as a present for 
 her. Won't she be pleased to get it, eh Ben ? " 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," replied Ben, smiling. " It is 
 a very poetical idea of yours, Frank, and I wonder how 
 you came to think of it. But what shall I take her ? 
 The hop-pole, I suppose ? " 
 
 " You can take her a wreath of ivy from the tower of 
 the village church that we have heard her speak of so 
 lovingly, and a sprig from one of the big holly-trees that 
 she said are growing in front of her old house at home. 
 But perhaps it would be better for you to take the girl 
 something — of course it would, I was forgetting her, 
 and she was as kind to you as her mother was. Let 
 me see, what can you take her.^ Can't you think of
 
 212 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 something nice in the rural line, Ben ? Something that 
 we can carry without spoiling it ? " 
 
 "A truss of newly-mown hay from her grandfather's 
 meadow," suggested Ben, " or a gooseberry bush from 
 his back garden." 
 
 " Come, come, none of your nonsense, I am not joking. 
 Some folks in Australia think a wonderful deal about a 
 trifle from their early homes in old England. You might 
 take her a bunch of buttercups and daisies from the 
 meadow, she would like them, I daresay." 
 
 " That's another happy thought of yours, Frank. 
 Annie Blake likes wild-flowers, I know. I heard her 
 one night recite a beautiful poem of Campbell's. I 
 remember the first three lines : — 
 
 ' Ye field-flowers ! the gardens eclipse you, 'tis true, 
 Yet, wildliiigs of nature, I dole upon you. 
 For ye waft me to summers of old.' " 
 
 " I have been thinking over this pleasant little jaunt 
 for ever so many nights lately, when my head has been 
 nearly bursting with trigonometrical problems that old 
 Captain Harden has been cramming into it," said Frank. 
 " It is a relief to have something easy to think of in 
 such wakeful seasons, if it is only innocent nonsense. 
 I am glad you approve of my scheme, Ben; it will 
 be a real holiday treat for us both, and it won't cost 
 more than we can afford. Hurrah ! for the hops and 
 buttercups ! " 
 
 " Have you ever been in the hop-growing counties, 
 Frank > " 
 
 " No, not yet, mate, but I've heard a lot about hops, 
 and how beautiful they look when they are in blossom, 
 from a young fellow who was a shipmate of mine on my 
 second voyage. 13ill Jobson was the son of a hop farmer 
 in Kent. We used to call him 'Hop-pole.' He ran
 
 SAILORS' RECOLLECTIONS. 213 
 
 away from home in a drunken freak, and he was sorry- 
 enough for it before he had been half a day at sea He 
 was always telling us about his nice feather bed in his 
 old dormitory, or of the sides of bacon that hung up in 
 his mother's kitchen chimney, and other soft talk of 
 that sort. But it is natural for a boy to think about his 
 home, if he had a good one." 
 
 " Yes, that it is, Frank ; as I know from experience." 
 
 " So do I, mate. And though I have been more than 
 
 thirty years a rover from my native place, recollections 
 
 of it sometimes start up to my mind as fresh as if it 
 
 were only last week. * Seamen's Homes ' are excellent 
 
 institutions, no doubt, and I say, God bless all the good 
 
 ladies and gentlemen who are taking a kindly interest 
 
 in them ; but, after all, they are very different to the 
 
 ' Sweet Home ' in the old song, that I've often heard 
 
 rough-looking sailors sing, with tears in their eyes. 
 
 Many and many a time when I have been lying in my 
 
 bunk at sea I have pictured our old village, and in my 
 
 fancy I could hear the clack, clack of the mill where I 
 
 used to work when I was a boy, and the rocking of the 
 
 ship has sometimes made me dream that I was a boy 
 
 once more, and swimming in the tub on the mill-pond. 
 
 Before I go to sea again, Ben, I mean to go and spend 
 
 a week or so about the old spot. I don't suppose I'd 
 
 know any one there now, but that doesn't matter. I can 
 
 perhaps find lodgings in some snug cottage home ; and 
 
 I should like to ramble about, by myself, up and down 
 
 the green lanes and woods and fields, and look at all 
 
 the places that I was familiar with when I was a 
 
 youngster — the willow-pollard by the brook, where I 
 
 used to hide away when my dad was hunting me with a 
 
 stick, as he sometimes did when he was tipsy. The old 
 
 church, too, with its square brick and flint tower, and the
 
 2 II LV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 ivy growing up to the top of it and right through the 
 belfr}' windows. IMany a time I have climbed that ivy 
 for sparrows' nests ; and once I got caned by the beadle 
 for nesting on Sunday. Then I should like to look at 
 the graves of my parents, and my little sister Peggy, 
 who was drowned in the mill-stream, where she was 
 picking water-lilies. There is no stone on their graves, 
 but that doesn't matter to them, and I daresay the sexton 
 will know somewhere about where they lie. Heigho ! I 
 sometimes wish that my tub had capsized with me and 
 I had gone to the bottom of the mill-pond when I was 
 a child : I should have been saved from doing a lot of 
 mischief in the world. Ah, yes — you are right, Ben ; it 
 isn't manly or Christian-like to talk in this way, but 
 somehow I don't feel high spirited to-night. I think 
 I will go to bed." 
 
 The next morning Frank appeared at the breakfast 
 table in his best clothes, and said that he was going to 
 heave aside his school books and give his old head a 
 rest for a few days, and have a look at the green country. 
 " What part are you going to } " Ben inquired. 
 " I daresay I shall be able to smell wild-flowers and 
 hedge blossoms whichever way I steer after I get clear 
 of London. I wish I knew where to find my dear old 
 sister Sally, if she is alive, and then I could tell you my 
 course to half a point. But I haven't heard tidings of 
 her for many years. I sometimes feel as lonely, even in 
 this busy city, as a bear drifting about at sea on an ice- 
 Iserg, for I haven't a single relative that I know where to 
 find. Now I am off, friends," added Frank, rising from 
 the table and taking up his shiny hat. " Take care of 
 yourselves till I come back ; and you needn't be uneasy 
 if you don't sec me again till this day week. Good-bye, 
 Ikn \ Look after grandmother."
 
 JVJDOJI- BRUCE'S STORY. 215 
 
 On that evening Widow Bruce shut up shop an hour 
 earlier than usual, and then sat down in her little parlour 
 beside her grandson, to tell him all about his mother and 
 as much as she knew about his profligate father. With 
 much sighing and many pauses to wipe her tearful eyes, 
 the old lady gave Ben his family history, which I must 
 report in a fresh chapter, much more concisely than she 
 narrated it.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " The melancholy days are come, 
 The saddest of the year, 
 Of wailing winds and naked woods, 
 And meadows brown and bare." 
 
 —Bryant. 
 
 " I WILL tell you, first of all, something about your 
 grandfather, as you wish to hear all particulars, Ben; but 
 you must not interrupt me, my dear, or you will put me 
 out, and I shall forget things that I want to remember, 
 for my memory is not so good as it used to be." 
 
 Ben promised his grandmother that he would not in- 
 terrupt her if he could avoid it ; so the old lady began 
 the story which he was so anxious to hear. 
 
 " Your grandfather was a gardener, Ben ; and for 
 many years he was foreman to Mr. Thorn, the nursery- 
 man, at Primrose Hill, which was a very different place 
 to what it is now that it is all built over. When I lived 
 there it was quite a rural place, and there were not many 
 houses to be seen. There is a wonderful change in 
 the neighbourhood sure enough, and Mr. Thorn's fine 
 nursery has been rooted up long ago. We had a pretty 
 cottage of our own adjoining Mr. Thorn's grounds, and 
 as nice a little garden to it as you would wish to see. 
 Your poor grandfather used to work it in his spare 
 hours and on moonlight nights. I used to help him all 
 I could, and it was pleasant work to me, for I was
 
 BEN'S MOTHER. 217 
 
 always fond of flowers since I was a little girl. Your 
 dear mother was our only child, and we were dotingly 
 fond of her. She was quite as fond of flowers as I was, 
 so between us all we made our garden a perfect little 
 paradise, if it isn't wicked to say so. Sophy was a 
 great girl when she left school, for your grandfather was 
 always willing for her to have as much learning as we 
 could afford, and I took care to give her a good training 
 in house work ; and a more tidy, thrifty girl you would 
 not find for fifty miles around London, and that is not 
 saying too much. What a treasure of a wife she would 
 have made to some worthy man ! But, oh dear me ! it 
 won't bear thinking of ! Poor dear creature ! she is 
 dead and gone ; but I often picture her in my memory, 
 tripping about our garden in her pretty white frock 
 and roses in her hair, cutting nosegays for our visitors. 
 We had hosts of holiday folks from the City when the 
 flowers were blooming, but especially in strawberry 
 season. Dear Sophy has taken as much as ten shillings 
 in an afternoon for her bouquets, and she used to say, in 
 her funny way, that she would be rich some day." 
 
 " Was my mother pretty when she was a girl ? " asked 
 Ben. 
 
 " Indeed she was, my dear ! At sixteen years old she 
 was as tall as I am now, and a perfect model of a figure. 
 She had lovely hazel eyes, and such a crop of beautiful 
 glossy brown hair, ah, and such a happy, kind-looking 
 face ! I never saw her equal in all my life, never ! 
 Everybody used to praise Sophy for her beauty, and for 
 her sweet temper too ; and your grandfather, poor man! 
 was ten times more proud of his fine daughter than he 
 was of his rare dahlias, for which he once got a prize 
 medal. We had a summer-house at one end of our 
 garden, beneath a large mulberry-trcc. It was built in
 
 2i8 Jy THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 rustic style, and was covered with flowering climbers 
 and hedged round with sweet-scented shrubs. Oh it was 
 a pretty place, to be sure ! Sophy used to call it her 
 fairy bower. Many visitors from the City would sit 
 there for hours, eating strawberries from our garden, and 
 sometimes we sold them cream too, for we kept a cow. 
 After a while our place used to be thronged with 
 visitors on Sundays, and we were kept busy the whole 
 day long. Such life as there was there nobody ever did 
 see ! But to that Sabbath-day trading I can trace all 
 the family misfortunes that have befallen us. How can 
 I do that 1 I'll soon show you, Ben. It is painfully 
 clear to me. 
 
 " The Rector of the parish did not approve of our 
 Sunday traffic, for it kept us all from church, and kept 
 the whole village in a commotion ; so he called one day 
 to talk to us about it. He was as good a parson as ever 
 preached, I do believe, but his manner was sometimes 
 rather sharp when speaking to poor folks, as if he 
 thought their feelings were not easily touched. Your 
 grandfather was offended at the outspoken honesty of 
 the Rector, and thought he was interfering with his 
 rights and liberties, as the house and grounds were his 
 own. Perhaps if his reverence had spoken in a smoother 
 mood your grandfather would have yielded directly, for 
 he was not an obstinate man, indeed, he was as mild a 
 man as he could be until he began to drink. However, 
 so it was, they were both excited, and they had some 
 high words, and the parson went away looking very 
 much hurt. A few days afterwards Mr. Thorn spoke to 
 your grandfather, and told him that he must either give 
 u\) his Sunday trading or give up his post as foreman 
 in the nursery. It was supposed that Mr. Thorn, who 
 was a churchwarden, had been influenced by the parson,
 
 THE NEW VENTURE. 219 
 
 and your grandfather was more angry than ever. He 
 had saved a Httle money, and he thought he was quite 
 independent of Mr. Thorn and of everybody else. He 
 bkmtly told his master so, and was discharged on the 
 spot. He then determined, in order to spite the parson 
 and his churchwarden, to build a public-house and set 
 up tea-gardens. Oh dear, dear ! it makes me grieve 
 when I think of it, Ben. It was the worst thing my 
 poor husband ever planned, and he sipped sorrow over 
 it. It was done in the spirit of revenge and in open 
 violation of God's law to keep holy the Sabbath-day ; 
 and we might as well have looked for fruit on our furze 
 hedges, as for success to follow such ill-devised plans." 
 " I don't believe in Sunday work, grandmother." 
 "Neither do I, my dear, and I have sad cause for 
 disliking it, but you shall hear all about our troubles 
 and trials. We had to borrow money on our cottage 
 and ground to build the inn ; then we were obliged to 
 go in debt for furniture, and for liquor and other things 
 that were necessary for our trade, and which altogether 
 cost us nearly twice as much as we had calculated be- 
 forehand. Your grandfather disliked debt more than he 
 did the grubs that destroyed his choice bulbs, and from 
 the day he opened the ' Mulberry Bush,' which was 
 the sign of our house, to the day he was carried to his 
 death-bed, I can safely say he never had an hour's real 
 comfort of mind, except when he was asleep. He used 
 to say debt crippled him, like a rusty nail sticking up 
 in his boot. 
 
 " For the first few months we" did a brisk trade, for it 
 was summer time and our house was nearly always full 
 of customers. But I did not like it a bit, for I had never 
 been used to have my home comfort upset by noisy, 
 half-tipsy folk ; and the scenes in the tea-gardens on
 
 220 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 Sundays were sometimes quite shocking. I began to 
 protest against such a shameful desecration of the Lord's- 
 day, for I had been taught in early life to keep it holy ; 
 but your grandfather used to scoff at my appeals. He 
 said we had our living to get, and we couldn't afford to 
 be very particular ; besides, the more row there was on 
 Sundays the better it would punish the Rector, for his 
 presumption in lecturing a free and independent rate- 
 payer of the parish. When the winter months came 
 there were very few City visitors to our house, and trade 
 fell off almost to nothing. There was not much then 
 about the place to attract visitors, for our garden looked 
 bare and was often covered with snow ; the rustic bower 
 at the end was stripped of its verdant covering, and 
 there were no bright flowers to be seen. It was 
 dreary enough outside our house, but, oh dear, it was far 
 worse inside — gloomy indeed ! for in addition to the 
 anxiety of knowing that we were drifting hopelessly into 
 debt, we had a cause of misery and sorrow in our hearts, 
 which no one can fully comprehend except a fond 
 parent, who has had the pride of her eyes and the joy of 
 her heart and the hope of her life all blighted by one 
 cruel crushing wrong." 
 
 Widow l^rucc covered her face in her apron, and for 
 several minutes sat in silent grief 15cn passed his arm 
 round her neck tenderly, and bade her go on with her 
 story, which was becoming intensely interesting to him. 
 Presently she got more composed, and thus resumed her 
 sorrowful narrative. 
 
 " Our dear girl's manner became as much changed 
 as the aspect of our garden grounds. We never heard 
 her sing at her work, and her merry ringing laugh never 
 enlivened our home, as it had often done in other days. 
 Iler dejected looks and her frequent sighs could not
 
 MISFORTUNES SELDOM COME SINGLY. 221 
 
 escape my notice, though her father did not see it : for, 
 poor man ! he had begun to drink very hard, to drown 
 his sense of debt and ruin that seemed to be hanging 
 over us, hke a mountain of snow. At length I dis- 
 covered the cause of poor Sophy's distress of mind, 
 and oh, what a shock that was to my heart ! The burn- 
 ing of our house and loss of all our goods would have 
 been nothing to it. I shall never forget that sad night 
 as long as I live ! I doted on my child, and had 
 bestowed all the care and tenderness on her that love 
 could prompt : or I fancied I had, but, alas ! I had not 
 been watchful enough over her. There I sadly failed in 
 my duty, and I could see it when it was too late. To 
 witness her bitter anguish and her self-reproaches, was 
 additional torture to me, and I was on the verge of 
 madness. Pray don't interrupt me just now, Ben, my 
 dear; you shall hear his name, and all I know about 
 him, if you will have patience and courage to listen. 
 
 " It was several days before I could make up my 
 mind to tell your grandfather the harrowing news; for he 
 had become so very irritable from the effects of mone- 
 tary troubles and drink combined, that at times he lost 
 all control of himself and became dangerously violent, 
 enough to frighten anybody. He loved our girl as he 
 loved his life, and I dreaded that he might, in the first 
 outburst of rage at hearing my disclosure, commit some 
 terribly rash act on her betrayer and perhaps on himself 
 also. Ah me ! ah me ! Misfortunes seldom come singly, 
 it is said, and I have proved the adage to be too true. 
 One morning, after I had lain awake all niglit, thinking 
 how I could break the news to your grandfather in the 
 gentlest way possible, I put my hand on his shoulder 
 and said to him softly, 'Johnny, come into the back 
 parlour with me for awhile, I have something to tell you.'
 
 222 IN- THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 He looked at me more kindly than usual, for he was 
 pretty sober just then, and said, ' I will be with you in 
 ten minutes, mother; the dray is coming with the ale.' 
 A brewer's dray stopped at the door, and your grand- 
 father went to help the drayman to lower a cask of ale 
 into the cellar. In doing so the rope slipped, and the 
 heavy cask rolled on to poor dear grandfather, and 
 injured him in a shocking manner. He was carried to 
 his bed, and there he lay for six weeks until he died. In 
 the meantime the good Rector came to see him often, 
 and I believe that he truly repented of all his sins, and 
 cast himself on the merits of Christ for salvation." 
 
 " Did he know of my poor mother's condition .? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; I told him of it a fortnight before he 
 died. Oh dear ! how he did cry, poor man ! I thought 
 he would have broken his heart. He never said a harsh 
 word to dear Sophy, and he begged me never to re- 
 proach her, and to keep the affair as secret as possible. 
 Almost his last words were a prayer to God to help and 
 comfort his poor unhappy child. On the very morning 
 after he died, you were born, Ben. I leave you to 
 imagine my double weight of trouble, I cannot describe 
 it." 
 
 The old lady again became deeply affected, and wept 
 piteously. 
 
 " Don't say any more about this distressing subject, 
 grandmother," said Ben soothingly. " Only tell me the 
 name of the man who caused all this sorrow, and I will 
 not ask you any more questions. This excitement is 
 more than you can bear, and I'm afraid you will be ill." 
 
 "I am better now, dear. Sit down again andT will 
 tell you the whole story ; it is only right that you should 
 know it. Your father was a gay, worthless young man, 
 Ben ; I won't call him a gentleman, though he was
 
 BEN'S FATHER. 223 
 
 supposed to be one. Good principles make a gentle- 
 man, not merely money and a fine exterior. He first 
 came to our house one Sunday in a carriage and pair, 
 with three other young men as wild and reckless as 
 himself. He often came to our house afterwards by 
 himself, and sometimes he stayed for days together ; 
 and as he spent his money freely, your grandfather 
 thought he was a good customer, and was always glad 
 to see him. He would often sit in the rustic summer- 
 house the whole afternoon. He told us he was study- 
 ing. Yes, he was indeed ! He was studying- with all 
 his fascinating powers to overshadow our home with 
 shame and sorrow. I was usually too busy in the bar 
 to see what was going on outside the house, and Sophy 
 was almost always in the garden, cutting flowers for 
 visitors — in short I was too unsuspicious, as many other 
 parents are this day. Poor Sophy was young and in- 
 experienced, and " 
 
 " Who was the man, and what was he, grandmother } " 
 Ben asked sternly, and began to pace the room in great 
 excitement. 
 
 " Sit down quietly, my dear, and I'll tell you. His 
 name was Gordon. I believe he had chambers in the 
 Temple, and he used to say he was studying law. Ugh ! 
 law indeed ! We may pray to be saved from such law 
 as men of his class study. A solicitor, who then lived 
 near Primrose Hill, called on me and advised me to 
 bring an action against Gordon, and said I might get 
 heavy damages, for he was rich. But your grandfather 
 had, on his death-bed, cautioned me against that very 
 thing, and I dreaded the exposure ; besides, it would 
 have been almost a death stroke to your poor mother to 
 put her into a witness-box to be talked to by lawyers : 
 she was such a timid, sensitive creature. For many
 
 •224 /^V THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 months she could scarcely hold up her head in our own 
 house, and did not stir out of doors. The good Rector, 
 Rev. Mr. Wills, came to see me often, and I shall never 
 forget his kindness and the attention of his wife to my 
 broken-spirited girl. Their good Christian-like advice 
 and help influenced her as long as she lived. Ah ! if 
 ever any poor unlucky girl in this world repented of her 
 frailty, your mother did, Ben ; and that thought gives 
 me more comfort than I can express to you. 
 
 " Mr. Wills found out where young Gordon's parents 
 lived, and he wrote to them for me. Of course I don't 
 know what he said in the letter, but about a week after- 
 wards old Mr. Gordon, a very kind-looking gentleman, 
 drove up to our house in his carriage. He stopped and 
 had a long talk with me, and I recollect he kissed you 
 as you lay in your poor mother's arms. He proposed 
 that I should go to Scotland to my friends, who lived 
 there, and take your mother and you with me, and he 
 said he would pay all the travelling expenses and give 
 us four hundred pounds besides. He also promised 
 that if we kept his family name secret, he would give us 
 two hundred pounds more when you were fourteen 
 years of age, if you lived so long. Mr. Wills advised me 
 to accept the offer, which I did, and the money was paid 
 to mc a few days afterwards, before two witnesses. Soon 
 afterwards, I gave up the inn and everything in it to my 
 creditors, and was about to start into Scotland, when I 
 was taken ill with brain fever, and was at death's door 
 for several weeks. When I recovered I thought I would 
 rather not go to live near my friends, who I feared 
 might look with coldness on your dear mother, for such 
 faults as she committed are held in great abhorrence 
 amongst decent folk in my native country. It is good 
 for the purity of home life, and the well-being of society,
 
 BEN'S EARLY DAYS. 225 
 
 that it should be so, but it is not right to be cruel or un- 
 forgiving even to the most guil^ wretch alive. Your 
 mother had a great dread of going to Scotland to meet 
 with my relatives ; so, unknown to our good friend Mr. 
 Wills, we came to live at Hackney, which was then a 
 much smaller and quieter place than it is now, I took 
 this little shop, and have lived here ever since. Your 
 mother was expert with her needle, and she got work 
 from a warehouse in the City ; so between us we man- 
 aged to keep a respectable home over our heads, and to 
 bring you up carefully. You can remember when she 
 died, and how peacefully she went off, the darling 
 creature ! " 
 
 "Yes, I can, grandmother; but tell me, did young 
 Gordon ever come to see my mother after I was born } " 
 
 " Never, my dear ! never ! Not he, indeed ! " ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Bruce emphatically. He knew my spirit 
 and temper too well to venture near the house, and I 
 have never but once set eyes on him since I left Prim- 
 rose Hill. Still, I have heard a little of his wicked 
 doings, and of the sad trouble he has given his good 
 parents." 
 
 " Where is he now, grandmother ? " 
 
 " I have not the least idea, Ben ; but wherever he is, 
 if he does not mend his ways, he will certainly come to 
 a bad end. I believe that as firmly as I believe I am 
 now sitting in this arm-chair. I never mention his 
 name to any one, and I hope you will never name him 
 to me after this night." 
 
 "Very well, grandmother, I'll be careful not to do so. 
 But tell me, did old ]\Ir. Gordon fulfil his promise and 
 send you two hundred pounds after I turned fourteen 
 years of age ? " 
 
 " He did not, my dear ; and that is the reason why I 
 
 Q
 
 226 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 apprenticed you to ]\Ir. Chippet. I would have given 
 you a better trade if I could have afforded it. I wrote 
 to Rev. Mr. Wills at the time, but got no reply. I sup- 
 posed the Gordons found out that I had not gone to 
 Scotland to live, and they were offended ; so I struggled 
 on and tried to do the best I could for you, without 
 asking help from any one. I have a proud spirit, you 
 know, Ben, though I am poor ; the Bruces always have 
 been a proud family. Your poor mother was much the 
 same temper as myself, though sorrow softened her a 
 good deal more than it has me." 
 
 " I think I am troubled with your proud spirit to 
 some extent, grandmother." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder if you are, m.y boy ; but so long 
 as it is honest pride you needn't fret about it. You 
 always had a good deal of your poor mother's gentleness 
 of disposition, and you often remind me of her, poor 
 dear girl ! She and I have had much annoyance to put 
 up with in this locality, especially since it has become 
 so crowded with small houses, but we have tried to live 
 to ourselves. Your mother had no associates, for she 
 always had a shrinking dread of gossips ; besides, she 
 was nearly always at work, and she was seldom free from 
 bodily pain. She was devotedly fond of you, Ben, and 
 hundreds, ay, thousands of times, she has prayed that 
 you might grow up to be a good man ; and so have I 
 prayed for you, my dear, and I have acted for you 
 too. Many a disagreement I have had with neighbours, 
 because I would not allow you to play with their boys 
 and girls in the streets at night ; but I was determined 
 to be watchful over your morals, if I had failed in my 
 duty to your dear mother. It certainly is not my fault 
 if you learnt any bad habits in your boyhood. But I 
 must not boast. Truly I have nothing to boast of, but
 
 WIDOW BRUCE'' S STOR\ ENDED. 227 
 
 much to deplore. ]\Iy poor overladen heart Is some- 
 times very weary of the world ; but I must wait my 
 appointed time in it. I humbly thank God for number- 
 less mercies in the past, and I strive to live from day to 
 day in preparation for my home in heaven, where I shall 
 meet my darling girl again, in perfect innocence and 
 peace, safe from the wiles of treacherous men, and from 
 the scourge of cruel tongues. * There the wicked cease 
 from troubling, and the weary are at rest.' " 
 
 Widow Bruce buried her face in her apron and wept 
 piteously. Her story was ended.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers, 
 Is always the first to be touched by the thorns." 
 
 —iMoorc. 
 
 It was past midnight when grandmother finished her 
 sorrowful story. Ben said all he could to soothe and 
 comfort her, and then he retired to his bedroom ; but 
 not to sleep, for the incidents of the story were whirling 
 in his brain, and he passed a restless night. His hag- 
 gard appearance when he sat down to breakfast the next 
 morning caused the grandmother some anxiety, but in 
 reply to her inquiries, he said there was nothing the 
 matter with his health. It was plain to her, however, 
 that something was woefully depressing his spirits. She 
 surmised that her disclosures overnight were the cause, 
 and she was sorry that she had not kept her lips sealed 
 on the subject. They sat for awhile wrapped in their 
 own troublesome thoughts. Presently Ben broke the 
 silence by asking in a brusque tone, quite unusual with 
 him, "Tell me, grandmother, do the neighbours about 
 Iicrc know of my base birth } " 
 
 " Yes, no doubt they do, my dear. There are not 
 many family affairs in this street, but what are talked of 
 freely enough. But you shouldn't worry about that. 
 Nobody can fairly bhunc you for what }-ou cannot 
 help." 
 
 " I want you to tell mc, grandmother, if they know 
 
 123
 
 AN UNPLEASANT NEIGHBOURHOOD. 229 
 
 my fa I mean, do they know the treacherous man 
 
 who caused you so much sorrow ? " 
 
 " No, I am sure they do not ; and they are vexed 
 because I don't choose to tell them all I know of him. 
 Of course they say all sorts of cruel things about us, 
 for people will talk you know, and we can't stop them 
 if we try ever so much. No decent family in this world 
 was ever quite free from the slander of envious tongues, 
 and the tattling of gossips and busybodies." 
 
 " What do they say of us ? I mean, whom do they 
 say my father is ? That is the plainest way of putting 
 the question — though it pains me to ask it." 
 
 " You would not like to hear all their scandal, Ben, so 
 I had better not tell you, especially as there is no truth 
 in what they say about us." 
 
 " Well, pray don't tell me any more, grandmother, for 
 perhaps I could not bear to hear it. I have already 
 heard almost too much for my heart to carry. Oh I do 
 wish you would get out of this unpleasant neighbourhood 
 — that you would make up your mind to go with me to 
 Melbourne. I am sure you would like the place. It is 
 a fine large city, and the climate is delightful. No long 
 dismal winter there, and the flowers are always blooming, 
 and the birds are always singing. There we might live 
 in peace and comfort, free from these petty annoyances, 
 for nobody in that new land cares a jot about a man's 
 parentage, so long as he is upright and honest himself. 
 I could soon get work there of some sort, if I could not 
 work at my trade, and you would be relieved from the 
 necessity of cooping yourself up in a dingy little shop, 
 where you never see a ray of sunshine or breathe fresh 
 air ; and above all, we should both be far enough away 
 from neighbours who take a delight in tormenting us 
 about the unhappy blots in our family history."
 
 230 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " It is not easy to run away from one's tainted history, 
 Ben, in these days when news flies a thousand times 
 faster than the birds. Besides, nobody around us can 
 say that we are dishonest, or intemperate, or noisy 
 brawlers, or anything of the sort. Let any stranger ask 
 the Rector for my character : he has known me twenty 
 years, or more." 
 
 " I do not dread so much what people can say of us 
 if they keep to the truth, grandmother. It is their lies 
 that I so abominate ; and how is it possible for us to 
 refute them .-' " 
 
 " I don't believe that lies really damage any one but 
 the person who utters them, Ben. If they were only as 
 hurtful as the sting of a bee, I should have been stung 
 to death long ago ; for liars have been very busy with 
 my affairs. I have suffered much in that way from 
 envious tongues, and so did your poor mother." 
 
 " Confound their tongues ! They would drive me 
 crazy very soon." 
 
 " Hush, Ben, my dear ! don't get so excited. You 
 really frighten me. I never saw you go on in this way 
 before — never. You seem quite changed." 
 
 " I am sorry I spoke so hastily, grandmother," said 
 Ben, kissing her tenderly. I cannot help this nervous 
 excitement, which I have exhibited ever since I came 
 back to this place. You don't feel so keenly as 1 do, 
 or you could not stop here and keep your senses. Oh I 
 do wish you would agree to start with me to Australia 
 before the winter sets in. I will take care of you on the 
 voyage. You shall have a cabin to yourself, and shall 
 not want for anything that I can get you. Do make up 
 your mind to go with me, grandmother." 
 
 " You are very kind, my dear boy, and I will do any- 
 thing I can to please you, but I cannot consent to leave
 
 GRANDMOTHER WILL NOT LEAVE. 231 
 
 this part — nothing would induce me to do it. Your poor 
 mother died in this house^ and here I shall stay until I 
 am carried out to be laid beside her. It is not a pleasant 
 neighbourhood, but there is something to put up with, 
 you know, Ben, in every condition of life. Go where 
 you may, you will be sure to meet with crosses, in some 
 shape or other, especially if you appear to keep yourself 
 a little above the folks that you live amongst. Some of 
 our neighbours are common enough, but I have got used 
 to their ways, or I have learned to put up with them, 
 and I am not often disturbed by them. Your coming 
 back so suddenly has been a sort of nine days' wonder, 
 because you were supposed to be dead, and there has 
 been more stir than usual in the street on that account, 
 and because you have come back rich, and you won't tell 
 anybody where you got your money." 
 
 " I am not rich, grandmother, I have told you that 
 several times before ; and you may be sure I got the 
 little money that I have by honest means." 
 
 " Of course I know that, my dear ; and I don't want 
 you to tell me what money you have. But I was 
 going to say, the present excitement in this place 
 will soon settle down, and you will be happy enough 
 here, when you get more used to the ways of the 
 neighbours." 
 
 " I would never despise our neighbours for their 
 poverty, grandmother, far from it, but I do abhor vulgar 
 actions and slangy talk." 
 
 " Do be more calm, my love. Listen while I tell you 
 what I have been planning for you during the last week. 
 No, no, Ben, I am not going to say another word about 
 a donkey-cart, so do listen quietly. You know old Mr. 
 Chippet was always kind to me. He used to pity poor 
 Sophy ; and it was through him that she got work at
 
 232 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 the fancy warehouse in the City. He took you apprentice 
 without a penny of premium, and now and then he has 
 given me an old left-off coat of his own to make up into 
 a jacket for you." 
 
 "Yes, yes, grandrhother, I remember he was very 
 kind to me all the while I lived in his house, and I shall 
 never forget his good advice ; but what has all that to 
 do with what we were talking of ? " 
 
 " Pray do not be so impatient, boy ! I'll show you in 
 a minute or two. I was going to say, that since Mr. 
 Chippct's death, his sons, Peter and Isaac, have taken 
 the business, but I dare say you have heard that news. 
 They are nice young men ; and though some folks say 
 they are proud and haughty, I don't think it, for they 
 used to play with you sometimes when you were boys 
 together. Now I am thinking that if I called on them 
 and asked them to take you into their employ again, 
 they would do it for old acquaintance sake, and they 
 might perhaps give you some light work or make a 
 foreman of you." 
 
 " It is not at all likely, grandmother, that they would 
 put an experienced foreman out of his place to make 
 room for me, even if I would consent to their doing it, 
 which I never could do, because it would be unfair ; and 
 if they were to give me my old post again in the factory 
 at full time wages, what prospect should I have of 
 advancing in life, of earning anything beyond a bare live- 
 lihood ? Besides, I am not so sure that I have the good- 
 will of the young men, though their father was kind to 
 me. Peter Chippet disliked the sharp rebuke I gave 
 him, five years ago, when he made a coarse remark 
 about my mother, before some of the workmen in the 
 factory. lie has never looked pleasantly at me since 
 that day."
 
 "IS SQUIRE BRUCE AT HOME?" 233 
 
 " All, men do sometimes feel ill-will towards persons 
 they have insulted. I forgot that little tiff between you 
 and Master Peter. But if you should not go back to 
 the factory, Ben, I am sure something else will turn up 
 if you have patience, for you are strong and active and 
 willing to work. The other day there was an under- 
 sexton wanted for our church, and if you had been 
 here it is likely enough you would have got that situa- 
 tion, for the minister knows us well, as I told you before ; 
 and he always politely says, * How do you do, Mrs. 
 Bruce ? ' whenever he sees me," 
 
 Just then the colloquy was interrupted by the 
 entrance of a boy into the shop, who called out in a pert 
 tone, " Is Squire Bruce at home ? " 
 
 " What do you want, my lad ? " asked Mrs. Bruce, 
 going behind the counter. " Who did you ask for > " 
 
 " Here's a letter for Benjamin Bruce, Esq. Ho, ho ! 
 hatters' blocks ! they'll call me a squire next ! " The 
 urchin chuckled derisively as he threw the letter on the 
 counter. " The postman left it at our factory just now, 
 and Mr. Peter Chippet told me to bring it here, and to 
 give his best compliments to Squire Bruce, of Hatbox 
 Lodge." 
 
 Those remarks were overheard by Ben, who stepped 
 into the shop and took the letter from the saucy boy, 
 and gave him twopence, which was more than he 
 deserved. He touched his cap with mock deference, and 
 went away to tell the incident to the first person he met. 
 In a few hours it was being repeated with variations by 
 a hundred gossiping tongues, and all sorts of specu- 
 lations were made concerning the purport of a letter 
 addressed in such a stylish way to old Widow Bruce's 
 stuck-up grandson. 
 
 "That is a very genteel way to direct a letter to
 
 234 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 you, Ben," remarked his grandmother, smiling. " Quite 
 grand, I declare, and fashionable too." 
 
 "Yes, grandmother, it is indeed; far more grand or 
 fashionable than I like. You can see how it gets me 
 jeered at." 
 
 " I think it was very unkind of Master Peter to send 
 such a ridiculous message by that impudent boy. But 
 never mind, my dear ! Jeering words won't break your 
 bones, nor they needn't affect your self-respect. You 
 look genteel, Ben, and I believe that's what makes some 
 of the folks cross with you. Mrs. Browning, over the 
 way, said to me only a day or two ago : ' Mrs. Bruce, I 
 declare your grandson looks more of a gentleman than 
 our new curate does.' Yes, and she is right too. No 
 doubt that letter is from some one who does not know 
 your humble position. Hadn't you better open it, my 
 dear } " 
 
 "Yes, grandmother, I am going to do so," said Ben, 
 and he retired to his bedroom and read the following 
 letter : 
 
 "Newby Hall, \oth July, i8— . 
 
 " My dear Sir, — I feel exceedingly sorry that your 
 business in the City prevented your staying longer with 
 us last week, but I do hope you will, when it is con- 
 venient to you, pay us another visit, and I think I may 
 promise that both myself and my grand-daughter will 
 be better able to make your visit agreeable than we 
 were on the last occasion. I must own that my wish 
 to see you again is to some extent selfish : I am most 
 anxious to hear every detail I possibly can respecting 
 my late unfortunate son, and there are some things 
 which I omitted to ask you. I shall be glad if you 
 can arrange to stay a few weeks at the Hall. The 
 weather just now is very inviting, and the country
 
 A LETTER FROM MRS. MARSHALL. 235 
 
 around our house is looking charming. I trust you. 
 
 will pardon me for the liberty I take in enclosing you 
 
 a bank draft for £100. Pray do not suppose that I 
 
 think you desire pecuniary remuneration for the kind 
 
 service you have rendered me. You will, perhaps, 
 
 favour me by purchasing something, which your taste 
 
 will suggest, to keep as a slight token of my gratitude 
 
 for services the value of which no sum of money could 
 
 estimate. 
 
 " Believe me to remain, my dear Sir, 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 "Emily Marshall." 
 " Benjamin Bruce, Esq., 
 
 " Messrs. Chippet Brothers, 
 
 "Bethnal Green." 
 
 Grandmother was very anxious to know whom the 
 letter was from, so Ben told her it was from a lady 
 whose son he had met in Australia ; and in order to 
 save himself from being further questioned, he started 
 into the City to get his bank draft cashed. On his 
 return home his grandmother handed him another let- 
 ter, that had come by post, and was addressed in more 
 modest style, " Mr. B. Bruce, care of Mrs. Rachel Bruce, 
 Hackney." Ben opened the letter, and found it was 
 
 from a Mr. Mead, of S , and wished Ben to send, 
 
 as early as possible, all the particulars he knew about 
 a man named Frank Shorter. Ben had no objection to 
 his grandmother seeing that letter, so he handed it to her. 
 
 " What do you think of it, my dear ? The poor man 
 hasn't got into any trouble, I hope } Sailors are such 
 comical men when they are on shore, there is no guess- 
 ing what they will do sometimes." 
 
 " I hope he is all right, grandmother, I think the 
 letter is from some shipowner in S who is going
 
 236 LV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 to give Frank a mate's berth, and wishes to know his 
 character before engaging him. I must reply at once, 
 for a letter from me may be useful." 
 
 Ben then sat down and wrote a careful account of all 
 he knew about Frank, from the time they first met on 
 board the Wolf. It was rather too long a letter to send 
 to a business man, but Ben was anxious to do justice to 
 his absent friend. He also wrote a polite note to Mrs, 
 Marshall, acknowledging her present in suitable terms ; 
 but afterwards he decided not to send it until he had 
 conferred with Frank as to the expediency of going to 
 Newby Hall again. 
 
 Notwithstanding that Ben had so much to incite him 
 to cheerfulness, and the fact that he had more money in 
 his possession than he ever had before, he was more 
 dreary than he had been in the darkest days of his 
 poverty. Like most strong young men, Ben needed 
 plenty of active exercise to keep him in health. On 
 board the ]\IonarcJi he had always found work to do in 
 his short intervals of cessation from study ; but since he 
 landed in England he had done no work — had lived a 
 gentleman's life, as he said, and fared better than usual 
 at his indulgent grandmother's table, so he naturally felt 
 out of sorts, without exactly knowing the cause. No 
 doubt that slight derangement of his physical system in- 
 creased his innate sensitiveness, and made him irritable. 
 As I said before, he had been subjected to a good deal 
 of vexation from some of the neighbours who knew him 
 as a boy, and whose jealousy and envy were aroused 
 because he did not show a desire to be over intimate 
 with them now he was a man, and perhaps because he 
 had not squandered all his money amongst them in 
 public-house treats or loans. The barbarous usage he 
 endured from Neptune's crew when he first crossed the
 
 BEN MAKES A HASTY RETREAT. 237 
 
 equator was less exciting to him than the slangy per- 
 sonal remarks he usually overheard when he walked up 
 or down Back Street, from the idlers standing at the 
 open doorways, or from some of the children, who had 
 the free run of the streets in those days, when Board 
 Schools were not in existence. He was returning to 
 his grandmother's, after going to post the letter he had 
 written to Mr. Mead, when he was rudely assailed by a 
 boy, who had doubtless been prompted by some of the 
 mischief-loving adults. Ben stopped and calmly rebuked 
 the boy, but that only made him more impudent, so Ben 
 gave him two or three touches on his back with a hazel 
 switch. 
 
 The punishment was slight, but Ben had immediate 
 cause to regret giving even that modicum, for quick as 
 Burns' witches issued from the haunted ruin at the 
 sound of Tam O'Shanter's applauding voice, several 
 able-bodied women stepped from their doorways, and 
 Ben would have been roughly handled by them if he 
 had not made a hasty retreat. The excited matrons 
 then grouped in front of his grandmother's shop-door : 
 and such an unpromising lot of customers no respect- 
 able tradeswoman would ever wish to see near her shop. 
 There was the mother of the saucy boy, and perhaps 
 six or seven of his aunts, for they all seemed equally 
 furious in his defence, and their attitude was menacing 
 in the extreme. They yelled and clamoured for Ben to 
 go outside for half a minute ; but as they made no 
 secret of their intention to " crack his head " if he did 
 go out, no sensible person will blame him for preferring 
 to stay inside, and out of sight of his noisy foes. There 
 he sat in the back parlour, in a peculiar state of uneasi- 
 ness, like a captive negro waiting his turn to be baked 
 and eaten, while his grandmother stood in the shop,
 
 238 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 trembling for the fate of her front windows and her 
 show glasses. Business was slack for the remainder of 
 the day, and she was glad when it was shutting-up time. 
 
 Ben went to bed earlier than usual that night, but it 
 was long before sleep came to the relief of his wearied 
 brain ; and when it did come it was disturbed by fancies 
 of a horribly exciting kind. He dreamt that he was 
 again on board the Wolf, which was lying at anchor in 
 some port of New Zealand, quite strange to him, when 
 a canoe full of naked savages came alongside. They 
 clubbed the captain and mate and all the sailors, and 
 then came to the galley to club him ; but he fastened 
 the doors, and kept the cannibals off by throwing 
 ladlesful of boiling hot soup at them through the galley 
 window, and all the while he was shouting for Frank to 
 come to his help. When the soup copper was emptied 
 and he had no more ammunition, he was obliged to sur- 
 render to his foes, who burst open the galley doors and 
 were dragging him out head foremost, when, lo ! he was 
 awakened by his grandmother shaking him up with all 
 her might. But it was half a minute before he was fully 
 conscious that he was in friendly hands. 
 
 " Oh, my dear boy ! whatever is the matter with 
 you.''" asked grandmother, in tremulous tones. "Do 
 speak rationally to mc, Ben ; I can't understand that 
 foreign gibberish." 
 
 "I ley — oh — ah! Mercy 'pon us ! is it you, grand- 
 mother ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, it's grandmother. Lie down. What ails 
 you, my love ? " 
 
 " I have been dreaming, I suppose. I am glad you 
 aroused me. Oh my ! " 
 
 " Dear mc ! how you alarmed me ! I do hope and 
 trust they did not hear your shouting at the fire-brigade
 
 AN OLD STORY OF FRANK'S. 239 
 
 station, round the corner, or they'll be here with the 
 engines directly. What were you dreaming of, dear?" 
 
 " Oh, an old story of Frank's got into my head ; that's 
 what caused it. What a fright I have had, to be sure ! " 
 
 " He certainly must be a bad man to tell you stories 
 that would make you call out in that shocking manner. 
 I should have thought he knew better." 
 
 "Don't be unjust to the man, grandmother. It was a 
 little affair he told me of that occurred when he was in 
 a brig, on a trading voyage to the Solomon group. One 
 day, when the captain and all the sailors were on shore 
 trading, and only the cook was left to take care of the 
 ship, a lot of cannibal natives came on board, and the 
 poor cook kept them at bay, till the captain returned, 
 by throwing ladlesful of scalding water at them from 
 his galley coppers. That was all about Frank's story, 
 in a few words, and there was no harm in it you see, 
 grandmother." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; still I don't fancy it. It has upset you 
 terribly, and made you frighten me more than enough. 
 Now try to compose your mind to sleep again, my dear. 
 Rem.ember that nice, comforting verse in the evening 
 hymn, that your dear mother used to like so much. It 
 is usually a part of my prayer every night before I 
 go to rest : — 
 
 ' If in the night I sleepless lie, 
 My soul with heavenly thoughts supply 5 
 Let no ill dreams disturb my rest, 
 No powers of darkness me molest:'"
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, 
 And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away." 
 
 ^Cavipbch. 
 
 Early the next morning Ben received a friendly warn- 
 ing that there was a conspiracy among some of the 
 spirited women in the street to punish him with their 
 own hands if tliey could catch him. He quietly re- 
 solved that they should not catch him if he could help 
 it, so he stayed at home the remainder of the week, and 
 employed himself in making paper bags for his grand- 
 mother's grocery department. On Sunday grandmother 
 urged him to go to church with her ; but though he 
 fain would have gone, he thought it was safer for him to 
 remain at home. From the unsaintly character of his 
 feminine adversaries, he judged that reverence for the 
 day would not overawe their avowed intent to punish 
 him if they caught him in the street ; indeed, he might 
 expect to be doubly punished through the co-operation 
 of the husbands of the locality, who were usually at 
 home on Sundays. After a little consideration, Mrs. 
 Bruce decided that Ben was justified in staying from 
 church, under the circumstances, so she trudged away 
 by herself. 
 
 On Monday morning the postman brought a letter 
 for Ben, which he was at first delighted to find was from 
 his trusty friend, Frank. Grandmother was very anxious
 
 FRANK IN PRIME QUARTERS. _ 241 
 
 to hear of Frank's well-being, so Ben began to read the 
 letter aloud ; but soon perceiving that it touched on 
 certain matters of which it was not desirable for her to 
 know, he retired to his room and read as follows. His 
 astonishment at seeing where the letter was dated from 
 may easily be imagined : — 
 
 " Newby Hall, \<SthJidy. 
 
 "Dear Ben, — I daresay you will be taken aback when 
 you find where I am moored at present ; but don't be cross 
 with me till you hear me tell the reason why I steered 
 in this direction. Here I am snug enough. I never 
 was in such prime quarters before, either on shore or 
 afloat ; and I would not mind making fast here for life, 
 if I did not believe it is impossible for me to stop on 
 shore and keep my health, unless I had active work of 
 some sort. 
 
 " You know, Ben, I was upset at the queer way you 
 managed things when you were down here. I did not 
 say all I thought about it, because I saw that you were 
 vexed with yourself, and it is not safe to say much to a 
 man at such times. But I fancied it was a pity to let 
 a rare chance slip of doing us both good, so I came here 
 direct ; and it is a lucky job for us that I did so, as you 
 will see when I come back and tell you all about it. 
 You may be sure I have not been so much of a gentle- 
 man as you were, and I have sailed under my true 
 colours ; but if I were a rear-admiral I could not receive 
 greater kindness. Mrs. Marshall took me for a pirate, I 
 think, when I first showed myself; but after Mr. Mead, 
 the steward, got the letter from you, giving me such a 
 first-rate character, the old lady was as kind to me as I 
 could wish, and the young lady too. They had me into 
 the grand parlour, and asked me no end of questions 
 about poor Dumby, and I told them all I knew, over 
 
 R
 
 242 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 and over again. They invited me to take my meals 
 with them in the saloon, but I would not have that 
 honour, so I mess with the servants on saloon fare. I 
 would have started for London several days ago, but 
 Mr. Mead has promised to speak to a friend of his, who 
 
 owns three ships out of the port of S , and he thinks 
 
 he may get me a berth as mate if I pass my examina- 
 tion all right. I am waiting till I hear from Mr. Mead ; 
 but I think it is likely I shall be home about Wednesday 
 next, and then I will turn out all my budget of news. 
 Mrs. ]\Iarshall asked me a lot of questions about you, 
 and you may be sure I did not give you a bad character, 
 after the superfine one you gave me to Mr. Mead, I 
 can see that you have got well into the favour of her 
 and her pretty granddaughter, and I half fancy the girl 
 is a bit smitten with you. They said they had no idea 
 you had been a sailor, because you were so mild and 
 gentle in your manner ; so I up and told them, for the 
 honour of our calling, that there are, now and then, as 
 good natural gentlemen to be found in the forecastle 
 of a ship as there are at a Lord Mayor's feast. Mrs. 
 Marshall said she had written to you the day before I 
 called on her, but she feared her letter had miscarried, 
 as you had not answered it. She is going to London 
 to-morrow, for she seems mighty anxious to see you 
 again, and the young lady is going with her. I have 
 told them where you arc living ; so stand by, Ben, to 
 see a grand carriage drive up to grandmother's shop 
 door in a day or two. I give you this hint, unknown to 
 them, so that you may keep yourself in trim, and be 
 ready at the gangway to receive your visitors in man-o'- 
 war's style. Of course I have told Mrs. Marshall that it 
 was you and I that found the tin box, and gave it, with 
 the parcel of manuscripts, to Mr. Blackstone ; she did
 
 " GOLDEN BALLAST LN BOTH FOCL^ETS." 243 
 
 not know that little fact before. She said there was a 
 large reward offered for the recovery of the tin box, 
 which contained securities of great value, and that we 
 should be rewarded for our pains ; so I expect to go 
 back to you with golden ballast in both pockets. I have 
 lots more news, but you must wait for it till I see you, 
 for writing long letters is rather out of my line. With 
 my duty to your grandmother, I remain, dear Ben, 
 
 " Yours to command, 
 
 " Frank Shorter. 
 
 " P.S. — Mr. Mead has just been here, and given me a 
 bank cheque for a hundred pounds. Hurrah ! Didn't 
 I tell you this cruise would make our fortunes .? Tell 
 granny I'll paint her shop front when I come back, and 
 make it look as smart as a barber's pole." 
 
 For two hours after receiving the letter, Ben was 
 pacing his little room in a very perturbed state of mind. 
 It might reasonably be supposed that a young man in 
 Ben's position would be overjoyed at receiving such a 
 hopefully written letter, but it had a contrary influence 
 on him, and he was perplexed beyond measure. When 
 he at length descended to the parlour to resume his 
 work at bag-making, his grandmother saw that some- 
 thing was troubling him, and she gently pressed him to 
 tell her what it was. But he said he did not wish to 
 explain his private affairs just then ; so she wisely re- 
 frained from asking him any more questions, and tried, 
 in various ways, to raise his drooping spirits. He soon 
 put aside his work and returned to his bedroom, and 
 throughout the afternoon he was there alone, ^planning 
 and re-planning his future course of action, until his 
 brain ached from the bewildering exercise. He was 
 exceedingly annoyed at Frank's sayings and doings, 
 and thought it was sly and mean of him to go to
 
 244 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA, 
 
 Newby Hall without stating that he was going there ; 
 and though it was plain enough that the honest old 
 sailor thought he had shown a master-stroke of policy 
 in doing what the other was too modest to do, Ben was 
 wholly dissatisfied with him. All kinds of unpleasant 
 surmises arose in his mind as to what Frank, in his 
 simplicity, had said about him to Mrs. Marshall ; and 
 he could not but believe that she had discovered that 
 almost the first sentence he spoke in her house was un- 
 true, and she would naturally be doubtful of everything 
 else he had said. 
 
 " One unwary slip from the truth — or one lie, that's 
 the plainest name for it — has caused me all this em- 
 barrassment," sighed Ben, and he pressed his hands to 
 his aching head. " To be proved a liar is — is — bah ! I 
 cannot bear the thought of it ; I'd almost as soon be 
 convicted as a thief or a forger ! If Frank has told 
 Mrs. Marshall and her granddaughter all he knows of 
 my history, and I fear he has, how contemptible I must 
 appear in their eyes ! A base-born journeyman hat-box 
 maker, out of work, dressed up in a dandy coat, ashamed 
 to own my only relative because she is poor ! They will 
 surely imply, as Frank did, that that was my motive in 
 disguising my position. Perhaps they may conclude 
 that I have been trying to ape the gentleman with 
 some swindling design, like a common pickpocket. 
 And how vexed Miss Marshall must feci that she 
 said, in such a kind friendly way, ' Oh, do come and 
 see us again, Mr. Ikucc ! ' Go and see them again, 
 indeed ! I shall never have the impudence to do that, 
 and I shall be ashamed to look them in the face if 
 they come to sec mc. No doubt the object of Mrs. 
 Marshall, in coming to London in such haste, is to in- 
 quire after her letter with the bank draft in it, which I
 
 BEN DISTRACTED. 2\l 
 
 have not had the common civility to answer ; and she 
 will most likely go to Chippet's factory first of all, to 
 ask if the letter arrived there. If she should see Peter 
 Chippet, he will give her his opinion of me without 
 reserve ; and I know pretty well what that will be, for 
 I daresay he is annoyed at my having had a letter 
 directed to his care, without first asking his leave. Oh, 
 how stupid it was of me not to reply to Mrs, Marshall's 
 letter immediately ! It is too late to write now, for she 
 is on her way to London, and will most likely be here 
 to-morrow morning. What shall I do?" 
 
 Ben paused for a few minutes as if waiting for an 
 answer, and then he resumed his exciting soliloquy. 
 " If Mrs. and Miss Marshall should drive down this 
 street in their stylish carriage, there will be a commo- 
 tion among the neighbours. And how can I receive 
 those kind ladies with becom.ing respect, when I dare 
 not show myself outside of grandmother's shop .'' And 
 what if some of those furious women should crowd 
 about the carriage as it drives up to our door, and begin 
 to abuse me again, and their yells should make the 
 horses bolt, and upset the carriage, and kill or maim 
 the ladies ! Oh dear me ! I shall go crazy if any such 
 disaster should happen." 
 
 Ben's highly wrought fancy might have conjured up 
 dire mishaps and perplexities to any extent, had not his 
 grandmother just then knocked at the door, and told 
 him that tea was ready. Almost at the same moment a 
 bright idea flashed into his mind, like a sunbeam. It 
 suggested that he should go back to Melbourne imme- 
 diately, and escape all the petty annoyances that were 
 almost driving him distracted. He seized the idea as a 
 drowning sailor grasps an oar, and he exclaimed with 
 suppressed exultation, " That's a lucky thought, and I
 
 246 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA.. 
 
 wonder it had not occurred to me before. I can start 
 by the first ship, for I have money to pay my passage 
 this time, and I have a good outfit. It seems rather 
 cruel to leave poor grandmother ; but she won't go Avith 
 me whatever I offer her, and perhaps she is right. She 
 says she is more happy in this house than she could 
 possibly be elsewhere. Besides, the neighbours did not 
 annoy her much till I came back, so it is plain that I 
 am setting them against her, though I cannot help it- 
 If I go to Melbourne, I shall be able to send her some 
 money every half-year out of my earnings ; but if I 
 stay here her trade will be ruined. I shall be better off 
 abroad, and she will be better off without me, so I'll 
 go as soon as possible." Presently grandmother again 
 rapped at his door, and said that the tea had got cold, 
 but she had put some fresh tea in the pot, so Ben went 
 downstairs instantcr. Grandmother remarked, when he 
 sat down at the table, that he looked better than he had 
 at dinner-time ; and he only wanted a cupful of her 
 horehound tea every morning for a week or two, to put 
 him all right again. His blood was a little out of order, 
 that was all. 
 
 " Your horehound tea is very good in its way, grand- 
 mother ; but it is not exactly what would help me at 
 present. I want to feci that I am living for some useful 
 purpose, and that I am not a mere drone in the great 
 social hive of busy workers." 
 
 " But you arc not a drone, Ben. Oh dear me, no ! 
 You have always had the character of being a steady, 
 hard-working young man," said grandmother soothingly. 
 "You'll soon get into work again, never fear; and then 
 you'll be as brisk as ever you were. Ha, ha ! I fancy 
 I can see you. as you were years ago, going off to the 
 factory of a morning, whistling like a young bullfinch.
 
 THE DEWDROP AND THE STREAM. 247 
 
 Drone indeed ! nothing of tlie sort. I am very sure, 
 Ben, that with such a kind heart as you have, you could 
 not possibly have travelled round the world without 
 doing good to somebody that you have met with. Yes, 
 and you will live to do lots more good, so cheer up, my 
 dear boy !" 
 
 " I wish I could think so, grandmother," replied Ben. 
 " I have lately begun to fancy that I am of no use to 
 any one." 
 
 " Ah ! that is nothing but fancy, Ben ; and I hope 
 you won't indulge it, or it will fret me sorely. Are you 
 not the only earthly comfort and help that I have ? 
 Whatever should I do without you ? But stay, my love, 
 I've just thought of something. While the fresh tea is 
 drawing, I will read you some verses that your poor, 
 dear mother was very fond of. She cut them out of the 
 London Penny Magazine, and treasured them up, because 
 it was said that they were composed by a servant-girl 
 in Devonshire. She is a clever girl, wherever she lives." 
 
 Grandmother then trotted to her bedroom, and soon 
 returned with a slip of tear-soiled print, which she read 
 v/ith much pathos. I need not hesitate to copy the 
 verses into this page, for they are as simply beautiful as 
 wild spring-flowers in a Devonshire lane. 
 
 "THE DEWDROP AND THE STREAM." 
 
 " The brakes with golden flowers were crowned, 
 And melody was heard arovmd, 
 When near the scene a dewdrop shed 
 Its histre on a violet's head, 
 And trembling to the breeze it hung ! 
 The streamlet as it rolled along, 
 The beauty of the morn confessed, 
 And thus the sparkling pearl addressed :
 
 248 IN IIIE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " ' Sure, little drop, rejoice we may. 
 For all is beautiful and gay : 
 Creation wears her emerald dress, 
 And smiles in all her loveliness. 
 And with delight and pride I see 
 That little flower bedewed by thee — 
 Thy lustre with a gem might vie. 
 While trembling in its purple eye.' 
 
 " ' Ay, you may well rejoice, 'tis true,' 
 Replied the radiant drop of dew ; 
 * You will, no doubt, as on you move. 
 To flocks and herds a blessing prove. 
 But when the sun ascends on high, 
 Its beam will draw me towards the sky ; 
 And I must own my little power — 
 I've but refreshed a humble flower.' 
 
 " ' Hold ! ' cried the stream, ' nor thus repine — 
 For well 'tis known a power Divine, 
 Subservient to His will supreme, 
 Has made the dcwdrop and the stream. 
 Though small thou art (I that allow). 
 No mark of Heaven's contempt art thou — 
 Thou hast refreshed a humble flower, 
 And done according to thy power.' 
 
 " All things that arc, both great and small, 
 One glorious Author formed them all ; 
 This thought may all rcpinings quell : 
 Who serves His purpose, serves Him well." 
 
 At Ben's request Mrs. Bruce shut up her shop at eight 
 o'clock, and then they sat down and spent, as she said, 
 the most comfortable evening they had had together 
 since his return. They chatted about time past with 
 its sorrows and its joys, and about future time and its 
 uncertainties ; they also talked hopefully of their pro- 
 spects when "there should be time no longer," and when
 
 GRANDMOTHER'S CONSTERNATION. 249 
 
 all life's toils and troubles would be over. Before Ben 
 retired he kissed his grandmother again and again, in 
 such a loving tender way that she wept for joy ; and 
 when she went to her room she again wept for sorrow, 
 for it reminded her of the happy times when his dear 
 mother used to show her all the fondness of her gentle 
 nature. 
 
 And Ben went to his bedroom and wept. The idea 
 of leaving his kind old grandmother, perhaps never to 
 see her again, touched his softest feelings ; and he was 
 on the point of giving up his emigration scheme, when 
 the sound of noisy brawling in the street startled him, 
 and his old morbid sensations were returning with a 
 rush. So he sat down and wrote a hasty farewell note ; 
 then he packed up as many clothes as he could get into 
 a carpet-bag and a valise ; and, as the clock in the 
 parlour was striking twelve, he stole softly downstairs 
 past the room of his sleeping relative, and left the house 
 by a side door. He passed out of Back Street unmo- 
 lested, for all his enemies were in bed. A few hours 
 afterwards, he was riding in an express train on the 
 Great Northern Railway for Liverpool. 
 
 The breakfast was getting cold next morning, but 
 Mrs. Bruce was loth to disturb her grandson. She con- 
 siderately thought that as he was somewhat out of sorts, 
 a little extra sleep might do him good ; but when the 
 clock pointed to half-past nine, and he did not come 
 down, she began to feel uneasy. So she went upstairs, 
 and her consternation may be imagined when she found 
 his room empty, and that his bed had not been occu- 
 pied during the night. On the toilet table was a note 
 addressed to her ; she tremblingly opened it, and read 
 as follows : — 
 
 "My dearly beloved Grandmother, — You will be
 
 250 I.V THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 grieved at the purport of this note, but perhaps not 
 more so than I am while writing it. I cannot live in 
 this neighbourhood any longer, and if I never return 
 to it I shall only be sorry on your account. I am 
 going abroad, and I think it will be best for my future 
 advancement. I feel that I am capable of rising in 
 the world a little higher than my present level, but I 
 should never do it in this locality, for here I feel spirit- 
 less. I must get amongst strangers again, where I shall 
 not dread being taunted and twitted continually for 
 family blemishes, which it is impossible for me to 
 remedy. 
 
 "I expect two ladies to call here to see me to-morrow. . 
 Of course you will tell them that I am not at home. I 
 dare not stop to meet them, lest they should see me 
 attacked by the people who sorely abused me a few 
 days ago. When Frank Shorter comes, back he will 
 tell you who the ladies are, for he knows as much or 
 more about them than I do. You can tell Frank that I 
 received his letter, but I have not time to reply to it 
 now ; perhaps I will write to him before I leave Eng- 
 land. In the purse on the table you \vill fmd fifty-four 
 pounds, which is exactly half my stock of money. When 
 I earn more I will send you some ; and I have a strong 
 hope that I shall be able to support you in comfort, 
 without your keeping a shop. It seems strangely im- 
 pressed on my mind that there are better times coming 
 for both of us. If I can earn an honest livelihood in 
 peace and quietness, I shall be satisfied. I am going 
 abroad to seek my fortune ; I cannot tell where at 
 present, but you shall hear from me soon. Do not 
 allow any hue and cry to be made after me. Be assured 
 that I shall not forget you ; and if we never meet again 
 on earth we shall meet in heaven, for I am going to
 
 BEN OFF TO SEA. 251 
 
 strive to get there. You have often told me of the 
 ' strait and narrow way ' : I shall try to walk in it. 
 Farewell, my dear grandmother ! Forgive, but do not 
 forget, 
 
 " Your loving grandson, 
 
 "Ben Bruce. 
 "To Mrs. Rachel Bruce."
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, 
 The mist is dispelled when a woman appears." 
 
 —Gay. 
 
 The Great Britain steamer was loading at Liverpool 
 for Melbourne, and was almost ready for sea. Ben had 
 no difficulty in securing a second-class berth in her, as 
 he had ready money to pay for it. 
 
 That was the favourite steamship on the Melbourne 
 line for many years, and her owners must have found 
 her a profitable vessel. Her comfortable qualities were 
 often extolled by her old passengers, and experienced 
 seamen have said that she was one of the driest ships 
 afloat, and that even in a heavy head sea she rarely 
 dipped bows under, as some steamers do at almost every 
 topping wave. That she was a remarkably strong ship 
 was proved by her weathering out a winter on the 
 exposed shores of Dundrum Bay, soon after she was 
 first launched, and also by her successful career for 
 thirty years afterwards ; and it has often been a source 
 of wonder, that the model of that good old steamer has 
 not been more generally adopted by modern ship-builders. 
 The writer has travelled in many ocean steamers during 
 the last fifty years, and does not remember more than 
 one ship that had the peculiar flanging bows of the 
 Great Britain^ which helped her to rise so easily to a 
 head sea. No doubt she was an expensive ship to 
 
 252
 
 THE " GREAT Britain:' 253 
 
 build, but " good things are cheapest in the end." Perhaps 
 if that ancient maxim were more carefully studied, we 
 should not so often be shocked at hearing of large cargo 
 steamers foundering at sea, and drowning their crews, 
 and causing weeping and want in many homes on shore. 
 
 The Great Britain had her usual complement of five 
 hundred passengers, many of whom were in the second 
 class ; and as Ben had been to sea before, he was in 
 some measure looked upon as an authority in nautical 
 matters by his fellow-voyagers, few of whom had ever 
 been on shipboard before. The owner of a kind heart 
 is always glad to be a comfort to any one in trouble, 
 and Ben had many opportunities of helping the helpless, 
 especially in seasons of bad weather. There was a 
 young man in his mess, a lawyer's clerk, who said he 
 was taking the voyage for the benefit of his health ; but 
 it was plain to every one about him that he was in an 
 advanced stage of consumption, and that he would have 
 been better on shore — at any rate, he ought not to have 
 been allowed to go to sea except as a saloon passenger, 
 and in a separate cabin. Ben had a strong sympathy for 
 the poor fellow, and voluntarily acted as his nurse, but 
 he gradually grew weaker, and during a gale of wind, 
 off the Cape of Good Hope, he died. 
 
 In the close intimacy with him which his duty as 
 nurse occasioned, Ben was often shocked at the im- 
 patience and the profanity of the suffering man, who 
 had to be carefully watched lest he should jump over- 
 board. Ben several times tried, in his simple way, to 
 talk to him of the need of preparation for death, which 
 was certainly not far off; and he offered to read to him 
 from the Bible, but his offer was repulsed with bitter 
 scoffing and imprecation. Ben was sorely grieved that 
 the book which his late dear mother and his grand-
 
 254 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 mother had taught him to prize as God's Holy Word, 
 and the best book in the world, should be spoken 
 against in such condemnatory terms. The man was an 
 avowed disbeliever in revealed religion. He said "he 
 knew the Bible from beginning to end, and at one time 
 he believed in it, but now he hated to hear it named. 
 He belonged to an advanced school of thinkers." The 
 man was evidently pretty well read in modern sceptical 
 literature, and perhaps if he had had breath to spare for 
 the effort, he would have tried to disseminate his infidel 
 opinions among his fellow-passengers. 
 
 On the day prior to his death, Ben was much troubled 
 at the idea of a poor mortal going out of the world in 
 his unprepared state, so he knelt beside his berth, opened 
 his Bible again and began to read a part of the New 
 Testament, whereupon the man fiercely vociferated, 
 " So you will persist in annoying me with that . , . 
 I can't stop you from reading it, because I haven't 
 strength to get up, but I can stop my ears from hearing 
 your drivel." He then put his fingers in his ears and 
 snarled. Poor Ben shut up his book. That book had 
 been the comfort and solace of his late beloved mother 
 in her lingering illness, and Ben was much shocked at 
 hearing its precious truths blasphemously assailed, and 
 that too by a helpless mortal shivering in the cold 
 embrace of death. The next day the mortal remains of 
 the unhappy man were committed to the deep. It was 
 a solemn event. 
 
 On the sixtieth day from home the Great Britain 
 anchored in Hobson's Bay. The voyage was considered 
 a speedy one in those days, and no mishap occurred to 
 the ship. But for all that, and notwithstanding Ben had 
 five hundred fellow-passengers to keep him from feeling 
 drowsy, he was glad when the voyage was ended, and he
 
 ANNIE BLAKE'S ADMIRER. 255 
 
 lost no time in getting on shore. He had had enough 
 of the society of his ship friends, for a while. 
 
 On that same night Mrs. and Miss Blake were sitting 
 by the parlour fire in their snug cottage at Carlton. A 
 strong gale of wind was roaring over the chimney-top, 
 and helped to arouse their sympathies for voyagers who 
 were tossing about on the rough sea, but they had no 
 idea that their respected friend, Bruce, was at that time 
 making his way direct to their house. Indeed, neither 
 of them were thinking of him just then ; but they were 
 having a confidential chat about another of Annie's 
 admirers, whom she was not at all friendly disposed to. 
 For a week or so previously, a strange young man had 
 followed her home from her workshop every evening. 
 She had seen his grimaces, which were meant for love 
 signals, but she feigned not to notice him, and never 
 gave him any encouragement. On that evening he had 
 stopped her and offered her a bouquet, which she de- 
 clined to accept. Like a prudent girl, she told her 
 mother of the circumstance, and they were discussing 
 it, with that mutual confidence which should always 
 exist in such close relationship. 
 
 "He is either a very simple young man, or he is some- 
 thing worse," reasoned Mrs. Blake. " If he really loves 
 you, he would have more respect for you than to follow 
 you in the street in that questionable way ; and if he had 
 common-sense, he would take the proper way to pay 
 his addresses to you. You were quite right in declining 
 to accept the flowers from him. Did you ever speak to 
 him, dear ? " 
 
 "No, mother, never. Miss Beck knows him. She 
 says he is a clerk in some office in Melbourne, and his 
 father is a respectable man. He lives near Terang. 
 That's all I know of him."
 
 256 AV THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " I think if he were as respectable as his father is said 
 to be, he would behave differently towards a young lady 
 who is a stranger to him ; but perhaps he is a simpleton, 
 and does not know better. At any rate, he is not the 
 kind of lover for you to encourage." 
 
 By the flush on her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes 
 it seemed as if Annie was going to say something cut- 
 ting about her obtrusive follower, when her mother said, 
 " Hush, dear ! I heard our gate open. Who ever can 
 be coming here at this late hour.-'" The next moment 
 there was a rap at the door, and Annie was going to 
 open it, but her mother checked her, for she had a mis- 
 giving that it might be some treacherous night prowler; 
 so she went to the door herself, and before withdrawing 
 the bolt she asked, " Who is there ? " 
 
 " It is I, Mrs. Blake," was the answer. 
 
 Annie's heart began to palpitate with a peculiar 
 emotion, for she recognised the voice, and at the next 
 instant her mother exclaimed, " Dear me, Mr. Bruce ! is 
 it possible ? Well, well, this is a surprise to be sure ! 
 Come inside out of the cold. I am glad to see you — 
 that I certainly am ! " 
 
 Ben walked into the parlour, and was kindly received 
 by Miss Blake. If she did not express her feelings so 
 openly as her mother, he knew that she was equally 
 glad to see him, for there was language in her looks, and 
 in the tremor of her little soft hand, which he could 
 understand. After shaking hands with Annie and her 
 mother a second time, Ben said, " The Great Britain 
 arrived in the bay a few hours ago, and as I had a 
 chance of getting on shore, in a small steamer, I em- 
 braced it, for I thought you would not mind my disturb- 
 ing you, even at this late hour." 
 
 " You are welcome indeed, Mr. Bruce. We are really
 
 A WARM WELCOME. ■ 257 
 
 glad to see you. Your old bedroom is unoccupied, and 
 it is at your service. It is well aired, and we can soon 
 get it ready for you. Annie, put some sticks on the 
 fire and make a blaze, while I fill the kettle. You want 
 some supper, I am sure, Mr. Bruce. Oh, don't mention 
 the trouble, it's quite a pleasure. Dear me ! how well 
 you are looking, after your voyage ! You must have 
 made but a short stay in England — I can hardly believe 
 you have been there, but folks can travel fast now-a- 
 days, with steam and wind working together." 
 
 The kind old lady then trotted about, in a state of 
 joyful excitement, to prepare Ben something nice for 
 supper, meanwhile asking him a variety of questions 
 about himself and his friend Frank, and all his friends 
 and relations in the old country. There could be no 
 doubt in Ben's mind that he was welcome, so he made 
 himself at home at once ; and when the excitement of 
 the ladies toned down a little and supper was ready, he 
 told them all the interesting news he could think of, 
 with the leading incidents of the voyage home and out 
 again, to all of which they listened attentively. But 
 when he told in playful terms of Frank's romantic idea 
 of bringing out a wreath of hops from Mrs. Blake's 
 father's hop-grounds, to hang up in her parlour like a 
 mistletoe bough, her eyes sparkled with pleasure, and her 
 tongue could no longer be restrained from interrupting 
 Ben's narrative with reminiscences of her early days in 
 her dear old home, and the fun she used to have at hop- 
 picking seasons. She then drifted on to a story, which 
 Ben had heard her tell before, how that she and some 
 of her frolicsome girl companions had on one occasion 
 helped to hoist a young city lawyer into the hop-bin, 
 and towselled him over and over among the new hops, 
 until he was as yellow as a canary bird. How that her 
 
 S
 
 258 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 cousin Susanna dusted his coat for him when he got 
 out of the bin, and he fell in love with her. How they 
 were married a year afterwards, at Hopley Church, and 
 went to live in London in grand style. But the strangest 
 coincidence of all was, that the lawyer's name was Hop- 
 kins ! Mrs. Blake having once started on home topics 
 dear to her heart, which the hop-wreath suggested, she 
 continued her little talcs of her girlhood's merry days, 
 until Ben naturally grew drowsy, and the lamp was 
 burning dimly, so they retired to their bedrooms as the 
 clock was striking one. 
 
 The next day Ben removed his luggage from the ship 
 to Mrs. Blake's home, and took up his abode in the room 
 he had previously occupied. His stock of cash on hand 
 w^as ^25, and though he knew it would not last very 
 long, it saved him from feeling a similar anxiety for his 
 pecuniary condition to" that he felt when he landed in 
 Sydney about twelve months before, with only a few 
 shillings in his pocket. Worry about money matters 
 sadly clogs the internal machinery of a man, as many 
 know by experience. Ikit being comparatively free 
 from that clog, Ben was able to look for employment 
 with calm deliberation and judgment, and was not 
 obliged to take the first job he could get, for the sake of 
 a bare livelihood. In strolling through Flinders Lane 
 one day, about a week after his arrival, he saw a newly 
 erected card-box factory. Manufactures of various kinds 
 were then beginning to be active in Victoria ; the pro- 
 gress they have since made there, and in all the Aus- 
 tralian colonies, official statistics will show, and it is 
 almost astounding. Though it was not exactly the sort 
 of work Ben had been used to, he could do it, so he 
 applied at the factory and was readily engaged, at the 
 liberal wages of fifty shillings a week ; for steady hands
 
 BEN'S NEW POSITION. 259 
 
 in that line were scarce. Ben was higlily pleased at his 
 engagement, and as he walked homeward to tell Mrs. 
 Blake of his good fortune, he mentally calculated his 
 prospective ways and means, and found that he might 
 easily save one pound a week out of his earnings, half of 
 which he resolved to put in the savings bank with his 
 present stock in hand, as a sort of nest-egg, and the 
 other half he would send to his grandmother, in fulfil- 
 ment of his promise. 
 
 Ben now considered himself permanently settled ; so 
 one of his first duties was to write to his grandmother 
 and tell her of his well-being, and assure her that she 
 should receive the half of his savings every year. Mrs. 
 Blake's house was nearly three miles from his factory, 
 still there were social considerations which outweighed 
 the inconvenience of a long walk morning and evening, 
 and he had not a thought of changing his lodgings. He 
 took a sitting in the church of which Mrs. Blake was a 
 member, and he bought a new hymn-book, and de- 
 termined that he would try to be religious. He honestly 
 confessed to himself, that though he had a great vener- 
 ation for religion he did not understand much about it, 
 as propounded by some of the learned ministers whom 
 he had occasionally listened to in London, or whose 
 abstruse reasonings on the subject he had read in print. 
 He had promised his grandmother that he would try 
 to live a godly life, but he could not do much in that 
 way on board the Great Britain, for there was always so 
 much of the other sort of life to distract his mind from 
 serious thoughts, but now that he could make a fair 
 beginning he meant to do it. 
 
 At the end of the first month of his new career in 
 Melbourne, Ben thought he had good cause for self- 
 gratulation. Upon reviewing his position, he found that.
 
 26o IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 in the first place, his employer had been pleased with 
 his work, and had promised him a rise of wages as trade 
 progressed. He had made some addition to his store 
 of general knowledge, for he had spent some of his spare 
 hours in the Melbourne Free Library, and had joined 
 the School of Design at Carlton ; and he was going to 
 be proposed as a teacher in the Sunday-school attached 
 
 to Church. Furthermore, he had, in his own 
 
 humble opinion, made some little progress in religious 
 lore, inasmuch as he had learned three hymns, and a 
 chapter of the Proverbs of Solomon, by heart ; besides, 
 he had said his prayers twice a day as regularly as could 
 be expected. Still, for all that, he was far from being 
 satisfied with his attainments in theological know- 
 ledge, and used to fancy that the smallest boy in the 
 Sunday-school knew more than he did, and on that 
 account he looked forward to his appointment as a 
 teacher with misgiving. His enjoyment of the musical 
 services in church on Sundays was almost ecstatic, 
 especially while Annie Blake was singing the solo parts 
 in the anthem, and he thought her voice was the sweetest 
 that ever was heard in a mortal choir. His experience 
 on the whole, moral, social, and domestic, was certainly 
 encouraging to him, and when contrasted with his late 
 disconsolate position in liack Street, Hackney, in his 
 own native air, he was like a petswan luxuriating in an 
 ornamental lake, compared with a miserable begrimed 
 goose cooped up on board ship, waiting its turn to be 
 cooked for the cabin table. 
 
 Annie had made some impression on Ben's susceptible 
 heart before he left for England in the Afonarc/i, though 
 he did not say much about it even to his confidential 
 friend, Frank. He had not whispered a word of love to 
 her, nor had he encouraged the tender passion in his own
 
 BEN IN LOVE. 261 
 
 heart, for he had no fixed idea of returning to Melbourne 
 again, and he was too honourable to trifle with an inno- 
 cent girl. But he often found himself comparing Annie 
 with girls whom he casually met with in his travels, and 
 the balance was always in her favour, excepting Miss 
 Marshall, who was the most fascinating young lady he 
 had ever seen, and he could not help admiring her 
 almost to adoration ; but she was so high above his 
 station, that he never presumed to foster a loving hope 
 in that direction. There were some bright girls on 
 board the Great Britain, but not one of them combined 
 amiable disposition with good looks in so pleasing a 
 degree as Annie Blake did. Living in the same house 
 ■with her, playing a game of chess with her now and 
 then of an evening, listening to her dulcet voice in the 
 church choir on Sundays, and occasionally walking- 
 home beside her and her mother, were all minor circum- 
 stances which tended to deepen his impressions ; in short, 
 by degrees Ben grew passionately in love with Annie, 
 and he resolved to tell her of his love as soon as he 
 could decide on the most delicate and proper way of 
 doing it. His powers of observation, quickened by 
 love, had enabled him to discover that she was not 
 engaged, but the same keen faculty made him feel 
 uneasy about the attitude of the young organist of the 
 church, who always pulled out his softest stops when 
 Annie sang her parts, and as often as he could spare his 
 eyes from his music book, he would gaze at her through 
 his organ looking-glass, as lovingly as a sly fox peering 
 at a prize duck. But he was a very plain man, so Ben 
 was hopeful. 
 
 Ben had never read an old-fashioned romance or a 
 modern novel, so he was quite ignorant of the standard 
 methods of love-making, as touchingly described by ex-
 
 262 !N THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 pcrienccd pens. But nature is a kind guide to honest 
 hearts. Ben soon made Annie understand his tender 
 feehngs towards her, for she was a girl of quick percep- 
 tion and quite free from affectation. His declaration of 
 love was brief, but manly and emphatic, and her reply 
 was as encouraging as he could expect or wish. She 
 •confessed her fond attachment to him, and said that if 
 her mother approved of it, she would accept him as her 
 affianced lover. Her mother did not take over long 
 to consider Ben's proposals, and when she gave her 
 assent to them, his happiness was all but complete. 
 His gleeful song as he went to his work next morning 
 was — 
 
 " My Nanic O ! my Nanic O ! 
 My kind and winsome Nanie O ! 
 Slic holds my heart in love's dear bands, 
 And nane can do't but Nanie O ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " iV man he seems of cheerful yesterdays 
 And confident to-morrows." 
 
 — Wordsworth. 
 
 The current of Ben's life now seemed to glide along 
 as unruffled as a summer streamlet through a flowery- 
 meadow. He had regular employment with a master 
 who never grumbled at his workmen, but often gave 
 them a kind encouraging word, and paid them fair 
 wages. Every month Ben was adding to his little fund 
 in the savings bank ; and he estimated that about a 
 year thence he would have money enough to furnish a 
 small cottage, and then he might venture to ask his 
 devoted Annie to become his wife. His health and 
 spirits had improved so much that, as he often gleefully 
 remarked to himself, his dear old grandmother would 
 hardly know him if she were to meet him in the street. 
 All his spare time was usefully occupied, and that was 
 another of the hidden springs of his happiness and con- 
 tentment. 
 
 One evening he was hastening towards Smith Street, 
 to attend a musical soiree in a schoolroom there. His 
 anticipation of a pleasant evening was heightened by 
 the fact that his charming Annie was to sing, " Consider 
 the lilies, how they grow!" and he believed that she would 
 sing it as near to perfection as any girl in the world 
 ever sang it. The hope too that he would have the
 
 264 JN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 pleasure of escorting her home, after the soiree was over, 
 no doubt increased his happy feeling. I am' not sure 
 that he felt any joy in the idea that many of the smart 
 young men connected "with that choir, besides the 
 organist, envied him his gifted sweetheart ; but some 
 young fellows would have felt proud even at being en- 
 vied in that way. He was walking along at a quicker 
 pace than usual, for he was afraid of losing his chance 
 of getting a good seat, when he was startled by a hail 
 from a well-known voice, and at the same moment he 
 saw his old friend, Frank Shorter, hurrying across the 
 road to meet him. It was a joyful surprise to Ben, and 
 the greeting between the two friends was a cordial one. 
 They were really glad to see each other. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " laughed Frank, as he shook Ben's hand 
 for the third time, " I was certain I should find you in this 
 latitude, Ben, and so I told your dear old grandmother 
 when she was fearing you were drowned again. Love 
 has a wonderfully attractive power, polar influence .is 
 nothing to it. It laughs at distance and difficulties, 
 and will draw a man anywhere and through anything. 
 Fla, ha ! marvellous ! But tell me, how is Miss Annie, 
 and how is her mother? " 
 
 " They are both quite well, and will be glad to see 
 you, Frank." 
 
 "Ay, they were always very kind to me. I am mak- 
 ing direct for their house, so you had better come with 
 me unless you have some weighty business on hand, 
 which I should guess you have by the smart way you 
 were stepping out when I first hailed you — going ahead 
 like a postman." 
 
 lien explained where he was going, but added, " I 
 must give up the soiree, Frank, for I am anxious to hear 
 all the news you have to tell me. Fll go back with you."
 
 FRANK'S SUDDEN APPEARANCE. 265 
 
 Frank stoutly objected to Ben's giving up his even- 
 ing's treat, and offered to go with him to the school- 
 room ; but Ben said that he could not enjoy the concert 
 while he was so anxious to hear news from home. So 
 they walked together to Mrs. Blake's cottage, and on 
 the way there Ben learned, first of all, a io-w particulars 
 about his dear grandmother, which put his mind at rest 
 concerning her, and then he could calmly listen to 
 Frank's story told in his own deliberate way, but of 
 which I must only give a summary, Frank had passed 
 his examination in London and got a mate's certificate ; 
 but being desirous of getting to Melbourne to find Ben, 
 he had declined a good berth in a barque trading to 
 the Baltic (which he was offered through the influence 
 of Mr. Mead) and accepted a second mate's berth on 
 board the steamship London, which arrived in Hobson's 
 Bay that morning. 
 
 Mrs. Blake was both surprised and, pleased to see 
 Frank back ; and Ben was much amused at the varied 
 moods of the excitable old lady, while Frank described 
 his visit to her native village, and his interviews with 
 som.e of her dear relations and friends ; and he was 
 equally pleased with the patient good nature of Frank 
 in replying to the numberless simple questions she put 
 to him. Although Ben was very desirous of asking him 
 about several important matters affecting their mutual 
 interest, he did not interrupt the colloquy until INIrs. 
 Blake had made all the inquiries she could think of, and 
 then, at Ben's suggestion, Frank went with him to his 
 bedroom to chat over their private affairs. 
 
 It appeared, from Frank's statement, that he had 
 stayed at Newby Hall longer than he expected, in con- 
 sequence of an accident which happened to Mrs. Mar- 
 shall and her granddaughter. They were going to
 
 266 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 London on the day that Frank intended to return, 
 and had got into their carriage to drive to the railway- 
 station, when the horses became restive and the coach- 
 man could not control them. They galloped down the 
 avenue of oaks, and brought the carriage into violent 
 contact with one of the lodge gates. The ladies were 
 thrown out, and Mrs. Marshall's legs were broken, and 
 Miss Marshall was severely bruised. They were taken 
 back to the mansion and a surgeon was sent for. Frank 
 remained at the Hall until the doctor said that both 
 ladies were out of danger, and then he returned to 
 London and learnt the startling news of Ben's myste- 
 rious disappearance. " So you see, Ben," added Frank, 
 as a wind-up to his budget of exciting news, " I saw 
 and heard of enough mishaps in one week to give me a 
 shaking if I were one of the nervous sort." 
 
 " I suppose you found my dear grandmother in sore 
 trouble about m^c, Frank } " 
 
 " I did so, poor old soul ! Some of her loving neigh- 
 bours had been trying to persuade her that you had 
 jumped into the Thames again ; and for half an hour 
 after I got to her house she would not be comforted by 
 anything I could say to her ; but after awhile she got 
 better. I lodged with her up to the time I joined my 
 ship, and before I left she was as cheerful as a wood- 
 bird, for I had persuaded her that you were in good 
 quarters and well taken care of. 1 was sure you had 
 gone to Melbourne again, and I told her she would soon 
 hear from you, and that perhaps you would make a 
 fortune in Victoria. That sort of talk roused her up 
 wonderfully, and she said she was glad you were gone 
 away. You were too high-spirited to associate with the 
 people in that street, so you never could have lived in 
 peace there. I believe that too, Ben, from what little I
 
 A CONFIDENTIAL CHAT. 267 
 
 saw of the manners and customs of the natives ; and I 
 thhik you are lucky that you got away with a whole 
 scalp, or without being tattooed by finger-nails." 
 
 " Grandmother has received my letter by this time, 
 and that will set her mind at rest concerning me. It is 
 indeed fortunate for me that I left London. I am not 
 like the same man that I was when there ; now I am 
 happy and cheerful, and never had better health in my 
 life. Grandmother will be delighted when she hears 
 this, for she is over-anxious for my well-being, and it is 
 only her extreme love for me that makes her at times 
 seem selfish and unreasonable." 
 
 " That's just it, Ben ; but when I go back and tell 
 her that you are living with good old Widow Blake, and 
 that you are courting her amiable daughter, grand- 
 mother will be as happy and as proud as Annie is her- 
 self She is deeply anxious that you should marry a 
 girl of the right sort, and I can satisfy her on that 
 score." 
 
 " I am very sorry for the mishap that Mrs. Marshall 
 and her granddaughter met with," remarked Ben, in a 
 sympathising tone. 
 
 "Yes, poor things ! so am I sorry for it ; and I would 
 willingly bear half of their breakages and bruises 
 if it were possible. Both of them were vastly anxious 
 to see you, Ben ; and they were going to London for 
 that very purpose when their coach got capsized." 
 
 " I am grieved that I neglected to write and acknow- 
 ledge Mrs. Marshall's kind letter and the bank draft she 
 sent me ; but the fact is, Frank, I was hardly in my 
 right senses during the time I was in England, and I 
 think I was more fit to have been in a lunatic asylum 
 than elsewhere. I shall never forget the misery I en- 
 dured in those few weeks."
 
 268 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 ' " You ought to have seen a doctor, Ben ; and I said 
 as much as that to your grandmother. I am not over 
 fond of doctor's handling or their physic cither, still I 
 believe there are times wlien a man should seek proper 
 medical treatment. It might save him no end of. suffer- 
 ing. It was your body that was out of trim, not your 
 mind." 
 
 " That's true enough, Frank, but I am all alive now. 
 The voyage out helped to put me to rights, and having 
 suitable work to do, and a respectable, quiet home, is 
 very comforting to a fellow of my temperament. Tell 
 me, Frank, was Mrs. Marshall going to London on pur- 
 pose to see if I had received her letter with a bank 
 draft in it .? " 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder if she was, Ben, though she 
 didn't say anything to me about it. She was really 
 anxious to see you, I am sure of that." 
 
 " Did you tell her that my grandmother was living in 
 London ? " 
 
 " No, I did not, mate ; for I wasn't going to see you 
 caught out in a lie through anything I said. I didn't 
 say your relatives lived in Australia neither, so I've got 
 a clear conscience on that score. I told her that we 
 both lodged with an old widow lady, at No. 8o,' Back 
 Street, Hackney, and as she didn't ask me the widow's 
 name, I didn't tell it. I thought she would find that 
 out soon enough when she went there. But you ought 
 to write to her, Ben, and tell her you got the money all 
 right. It would be only common manners and proper 
 respect. She is certainly the kindest lady, of a high 
 class, that I ever had the rare luck to meet with. All 
 her servants seem to be real fond of her, and that's a 
 good sign, you know." 
 
 " I am ashamed of myself for neglecting to write to
 
 FRANK'S TEMPERANCE FLAG. 269 
 
 the lady ; but it is never too late to do what is right 
 and proper. I will write her by next mail. Now don't 
 say any more about it, Frank, for it is making me feel 
 nervous again. Let us talk of something lively. By the 
 way, how well you are looking ! I ought to have paid 
 you that compliment before." 
 
 " I am well and hearty, I am thankful to say. Ay, I 
 know what you mean by that solemn peep into my 
 eyes, mate. They look sober, don't they?" 
 
 " Yes, they do, Frank ; and I need not ask if you 
 have kept your temperance flag hoisted, for I am sure 
 you have. I knew that at the first glance I got of you 
 to-night, when you hailed me across the road." 
 
 " You are rig^ht, my friend. I have stuck to my 
 colours like a true man-o'-war's man. Not a sip ot 
 strong stuff has entered my lips since you have known 
 me. I shall always deem it a lucky turn in my life's 
 course when I fell in with you as a shipmate, for you 
 have done more to keep me on the sober tack than any 
 man I ever met with before. I know it will please you 
 to hear me say that I have thoroughly conquered the 
 ' drinking devil,' as they call him — regularly got him 
 under my heels, and with the help of God I will keep 
 him there. If you like to listen to it, I will tell you 
 how I was cured of my awful thirst for grog. Drugs } 
 Oh no, mate, not at all — I'll tell you directly. By the 
 way, I once saw an advertisement, in a London news- 
 paper, of a doctor offering to cure any drunkard with a 
 few doses of some stuff he had prepared. Good luck 
 to him ! say I, whoever he may be. Any drug that will 
 help to cure a poor drunkard is worth a blessing. But 
 I know of a way ten thousand times surer than any 
 doctor's physic in the world. I wish I could tell my 
 sure remedy to all the poor, unhappy drunkards in this
 
 270 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 land, or all the world over, and help them to kick off 
 their shackles and be free men, as I am this moment." 
 
 Ben had never heard his old friend so eloquent be- 
 fore. He said a few encouraging words to him, and 
 then Frank began to tell how he had conquered his 
 long indulged and almost insatiate thirst for strong 
 drink. I will give it in a separate chapter, so it can be 
 skipped by readers who do not care for such a subject ; 
 but I would earnestly advise any one who is tied and 
 bound by the chain of the "drinking devil," to read 
 honest Frank Shorter's short and simple narrative — and 
 to follow his examj^le.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Frank Shorter's simple story that he wished every sailor in the 
 world could hear, 
 
 " You know, Ben, before we left Melbourne I gave you 
 my word of honour that I would not taste grog for half 
 a year. I kept my promise faithfully. I would have 
 suffered death sooner than break it ; but I made up my 
 mind to have a short spree, just to treat virtue, directly 
 my six months was up. You had left England, so I 
 had not got you alongside of me to grip hold of my 
 arm in the nick of time, and drag me from my drinking 
 purpose, as you did some time before in Melbourne. 
 You remember the time I mean .?" 
 
 " But surely, Frank, your own sober common-sense 
 must have warned you that you were going to commit 
 an act of extreme folly !" interposed Ben, with a look of 
 amazement. 
 
 "Ay, you wonder that it did not ; but I have told 
 you before that bare common-sense doesn't often help 
 a man who is beset, body and brains, by a fiendish 
 craving for drink. You can't understand it. No, that 
 you can't, Ben, and I don't want you to. Now listen ; 
 and please don't stop me again if you can help it, or I 
 may leave some of the best threads out of my yarn. 
 On the evening that my time was up, I was taking a 
 stiff lesson in trigonometry from my kind tutor, Captain 
 
 271
 
 272 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 Harden, and when it was over I said cheerily, * Now, 
 skipper, I am going to stand treat to-night, for I am a 
 free man when the clock strikes nine. You can't move 
 out-of-doors with your crippled feet to go to the tavern, 
 so I'll fetch home a gallon of rum, and we'll have a jolly 
 night of it. You may invite your son and your brother- 
 in-law to join us, if you like, I'll pay for everything. 
 You have had lots of patience with me, captain, and 
 have got me forward much faster than I expected, so 
 now we'll have a spree together on the strength of it' 
 My eye, Ben, how the old man did stare at me ! I shall 
 never forget his scared look. He seemed quite taken 
 aback. Presently he said, in his quiet way, * I am much 
 obliged to you, Shorter, for I know you mean kindly ; 
 but I have not tasted grog for twenty years, and I never 
 mean to touch it again while I breathe. A thousand 
 sovereigns would not tempt me to taste a single dram,' 
 * Hi, hi ! you are an out-and-out temperance man, 
 captain, I didn't know that before,' said I. So he up 
 and told me a dismal yarn, how that when he was mate 
 of a collier brig out of North Shields, he was drunk on 
 his watch one night, and ran down a Dutch schooner 
 and drowned all hands, except the cabin-boy. He got 
 out of the scrape all right as far as the law went, for 
 all his crew swore he was sober, and that the weather 
 was foggy, though the cabin-boy swore it was quite 
 clear. But he could not get freed by his own conscience, 
 and the ghosts of the seven Dutch sailors used to haunt 
 him every time he got drunk — or he fancied they did, 
 which was all the same to him. To get rid of the 
 ghosts, he made up his mind to give up grog entirely. 
 He solemnly vowed against it, but broke his oath in 
 three days. Then he swore again, and said if he touched 
 grog for six months he would chop his little fingers off.
 
 CAPTAIN HARDEN AMONG THE BREAKERS. 273 
 
 He broke that vow in a fortnight, but he hadn't the heart 
 to chop his fingers off. Some time after that he swore 
 a third time, a horrible oath, and said if he broke it he 
 wished God would send him to hell that minute. He 
 thought that would certainly scare him off the grog ; 
 but it didn't, for in less than a month he broke that 
 shocking vow, and was blind-drunk for ten days. Then 
 delirium tremens set in, as they usually do after such 
 a bout as that, and he cut his throat, but not quite deep 
 enough to kill himself. He was carried to the London 
 Hospital, and there he lay for three months. During 
 that time a City missionary went to see him very often, 
 and he soon showed him the right way to conquer the 
 drinking devil that was in his heart ; and from that time 
 John Harden has never let grog pass through his lips." 
 
 " What plan did he take to cure the terrible habit so 
 thoroughly?" asked Ben, who was much interested in 
 Frank's recital. 
 
 "I am going to tell you, Ben.- The City missionary 
 found out all about poor Harden's ups and downs, and 
 his vain attempts to cure his grog-thirstiness by cursing 
 his own body and soul ; so one day he said to him very 
 kindly, ' Captain Harden, it is no use your trying to 
 conquer the drinking fiend by your own efforts, or in 
 your own strength. An infant might as well try to 
 grapple with a lion or a tiger. Of your own self you 
 can do nothing.' ' I know it, sir,' said poor Harden, 
 weeping, for he was completely knocked down. * I feel 
 that I am quite helpless.' ' There is only one way that 
 you can conquer the foe ; shall I tell it you ? ' said the 
 missionary. ' Oh yes, sir; pray do, for I am among the 
 breakers of ruin. I am a wretched, doomed man ; but 
 if there is any channel for me to get out by, do pray 
 show it me ! '
 
 274 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " Then the missionary produced his pocket Bible and 
 read a lot of comforting words. I cannot remember 
 them all, but part of what he read was about Jesus 
 Christ putting out His hand and catching hold of poor 
 Peter, the fisherman, as he was sinking in the sea. ' Oh 
 I wish Christ would stretch out His hand and save me, 
 for I am sinking into hell,' cried Harden, who seemed 
 to be getting more wretched than ever. * Well, ask 
 Him to do it,' said the missionary. ' How shall I ask 
 Him, sir } I have never prayed since I was a little boy.' 
 • Begin to pray now, captain. " Ask, and ye shall re- 
 ceive : " those are Christ's own words. See, here they 
 are written in His New Testament. Prove them, and 
 see if they are not faithful and true. Kneel down with 
 me now.' 
 
 " So Harden went down upon his knees and prayed 
 like a poor sailor overboard crying out for a life-buoy. 
 He asked for pardon for all his past sins, and for strength 
 to resist sin in the future ; but especially he prayed for 
 help to resist the awful besetment of drunkenness. His 
 words weren't put together like a prayer-book, but he 
 was in real earnest — that was the main thing. And the 
 missionary, who knelt alongside of him, looked as glad 
 as if he had saved a whole ship's crew from drowning. 
 ' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be 
 saved,' said the missionary, with his finger pointing to 
 that text in the Testament. ' I do believe that Christ 
 will save me !' shouted the captain ; and just then a 
 load of misery, as heavy as a chain cable, seemed to 
 uncoil from his heart, and he felt as happy as a saint. 
 ' P>om that blessed minute to the present time,' said 
 the captain to me, ' I have never tasted grog in any 
 shape. That's the way I conquered the drinking fiend ; 
 and depend upon it, Mr. Shorter, there is no other sure
 
 CAPTAIN HARDEN' S SHEET ANCHOR. 275 
 
 way to do it. Nothing but God's grace will enable 
 mortal man to overcome the love of strong drink.' 
 ' It seems wonderful to me, Captain Harden/ said I, 
 ' that you haven't a fierce craving for a lot of grog, now 
 and then, as I have — a sort of feeling as if some devilish 
 influence was clawing at your vitals, and would not be 
 easy till you got drunk.' * I understand the sort of 
 feeling you try to describe, Mr. Shorter,' said Harden. 
 ' I have felt it often and often, but it has never mastered 
 me again, because I have always resisted the temptation 
 by prayer. I keep a close watch over myself, for I know 
 if I were to take even one sip of intoxicating liquor I 
 should be floored again. If I am alone when the 
 horrible craving comes on me, as it does sometimes, I 
 pray aloud for help ; but if any one is near who would 
 perhaps be inclined to mock me, I merely say in the 
 softest whisper — or say it mentally — Jesus help me noiv ! 
 and I receive strength to stand against the tempter's 
 influence immediately. I ask in faith. Yes, faith in 
 Christ is my sheet anchor, Frank,' said poor old Harden, 
 wiping his eyes. ' I know it will hold me in the hardest 
 gale that can blow over me in life's treacherous road- 
 stead, and it will sustain me when I am surrounded by 
 the surging rollers of death.' 
 
 "That was the captain's story, Ben, and it was a 
 happy thing for me that I heard him tell it," continued 
 Frank, with earnestness. " Poor old Harden ! with his 
 frost-bitten toes and his poverty, but for all that looking 
 as glad as a bishop. I shall never forget him. He 
 taught me the way to navigate a ship ; but better far 
 than that, he showed me the plain way to heaven. I 
 went to the same source of help and strength that he 
 did, and just in the same way, and with the same happy 
 result, though I had to pray a good deal longer than he
 
 276 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 did, for I had not so much simple faith as he had. We 
 are not all alike in any way, and our religious ex- 
 perience differs. Now I am really a free man, Ben. 
 ^ But I don't stand up in my own strength, — no, no, far 
 from it. I wouldn't trust myself for a single moment. 
 Of myself I can do nothing; but I have an Almighty 
 Friend, always close at hand when I call upon Him, and 
 I know I am safe so long as I trust wholly and solely in 
 Him. I solemnly promised that, if God would give me 
 the power to abstain, I would never again taste strong 
 drink, which had been the curse of my life. I have looked 
 •to the right source of help against all the assaults of 
 the devil, and I have received it from day to day. 
 I could now stand on the deck of a sinking ship, free 
 from the fear of sinking into hell (if I could iiot wholly 
 conquer a natural dread of the cold waters of death), 
 because I have a firm trust in Christ as my Saviour, I 
 heartily wish every sailor, ay, and every landsman in 
 the world, could say as much as that. I have told this 
 story to you, Ben, in my own simple way, and I have 
 no fear that you will call it ' cant,' as some folks might 
 do, for you know very well there is no sham about your 
 old shipmate, Frank Shorter," 
 
 "Still nigh me, O my Saviour, stand, 
 And guard in fierce temptation's hour ; 
 Hide in the hollow of Thy hand, 
 
 Show forth in mc Thy saving power. 
 Still be Thy arms my sure defence, 
 Nor earth nor hell shall pluck mc tlience."
 
 ing 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 " Men my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping someth 
 
 new." 
 
 — Tennyson. 
 
 Ben was so much interested in Frank's story that he 
 lay awake for several hours thinking of it after he went 
 to bed, consequently he slept beyond his usual hour 
 the next morning ; and for the first time since he had 
 been in his new service, he did not go from home till 
 after breakfast. On his way to the city he was ponder- 
 ing over the happy change in Frank's condition and 
 prospects, and wishing he could feel the sustaining 
 peace in his heart, which his old friend had spoken of 
 with such calm, reverential feeling. It was nine o'clock 
 when he turned into Flinders Lane. The porters in 
 the wholesale warehouses were opening the doors and 
 shutters, and the junior clerks were hurrying to their 
 respective ^offices as usual. Ben did not notice any- 
 thing uncommon in the appearance of the lane until he 
 arrived near his own workshop, when a peculiar stench 
 and a slight smoke told him that it was partially burnt 
 out. It appeared that an alarm of fire was raised at 
 about three o'clock a.m. The fire brigade from Collins 
 Street were promptly on the spot, with two reels of 
 hose : hydrants were screwed on, and the Yan Yean 
 being in good pressure a force of water was brought to 
 
 277
 
 278 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 bear on the burning factory, which soon subdued the 
 flames, though not before most of the Hght stock was 
 destroyed, and the roof of the building was burnt off. 
 There w^ere no fire engines, for they were not needed ; 
 the pressure from the hydrants would have sent a stream 
 of water over the h'ghest warehouse in Flinders Lane. 
 Perhaps few cities have more efficient means for ex- 
 tinguishing a fire than Melbourne has, and the fire 
 brigade are as smart and daring as man-of-war sailors. 
 The same compliment may be justly paid to the fire 
 brigade of Sydney. At the present time the water 
 supply there is not so abundant as it should be ; but 
 that will soon be remedied, and a few years hence 
 Sydney will perhaps be as well supplied with water as 
 any city in the world. Over a million sterling is now 
 being expended on works for bringing water into 
 Sydney. 
 
 Ben was out of work again. His former calculations 
 on his earnings for the current year looked all wrong, 
 and his cherished hope of settling down in his own little 
 cottage home faded into distance. Still his spirits were 
 good, and he tried to take solace in the reflection that 
 he was better off, under present circumstances, than 
 several of his fellow-workmen were, who had homes of 
 their own and families to support. His employer said he 
 hoped to have the factory going again in a few weeks ; 
 so Ben determined that he would in the meantime visit 
 some of the goldfields of Victoria, of which he had heard 
 and read so much. He would gladly have had the 
 company of his friend Frank, but he could not leave 
 his ship. Ben's arrangements were soon completed, and 
 that afternoon he started by steamboat for Geclong. 
 After a short stay there he went on by railway to 
 Ballarat, where he stayed three days. He might have
 
 MR. BLACKSTONE WANTS MR. BRUCE. 279 
 
 found ample amusement if he could have stayed there 
 for three weeks. Through the courtesy of several mhiing 
 managers, he was allowed to go down some of the most 
 famous deep sinkings, and he saw enough to convince 
 him that there was less romance in gold-digging than 
 he had previously imagined. He did not kick against 
 a single gold nugget even as small as a kidney potato, 
 nor did he see much glitter of gold, though he was taken 
 through many tunnels or cuttings in the auriferous 
 quartz ; and although there were hundreds of workmen 
 underground, they were all as soberly at work with picks 
 and shovels as colliers or railway navvies — in fact, he did 
 not see one man who came at all up to the idea he had 
 formed of a "jolly digger," as described by lively writers 
 on the early history of the goldfields of Australia. He 
 did not even smell any roast geese or turkeys, and not 
 a single digger asked him to drink champagne out of a 
 tin pot. From Ballarat Ben went on to Dalesford, and 
 thence to Glenlyon. There he was detained for two 
 days by wet weather, and was unable to visit the Mount 
 Franklin diggings as he had intended to do. He was 
 about to go to Guildford by the early coach which 
 started from the inn where he was staying, when, to his 
 surprise, he was accosted by Mr. Sharp, the confidential 
 clerk of Mr. Blackstone. 
 
 " I have found you at last, Mr. Bruce, after three days' 
 hunting for you," said Mr. Sharp, who looked as if he 
 had had a fagging chase after something. " I have a 
 message for you from Mr, Blackstone. He is very 
 anxious to see you, and respectfully requests that you 
 will return with me to Melbourne with as little delay as 
 possible." 
 
 "What can ]\Ir. Blackstone want with me so urgently?" 
 Ben asked, with a trepidation which many other honest
 
 28o IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 men have shown on receiving a sudden message from a 
 lawyer. 
 
 "I am not at liberty to explain Mr. Blackstone's 
 business with you, sir ; but you may be sure he wants 
 to see you, or he would not have sent me out of the 
 office at our busiest time of the year to search for you. 
 It hasn't been like a holiday trip to me this time, because 
 I have been in such a hurry over it." 
 
 " I intend to go to Castlemaine and Sandhurst, and 
 shall perhaps return to Melbourne on Saturday evening," 
 said Ben with affected calmness. 
 
 " Then you could not see Mr. Blackstone till Monday, 
 and the English mail will leave on Sunday. I particu- 
 larly request that you will return with me this morning 
 Mr. Bruce." 
 
 Ben's uneasiness increased, as he tried to surmise the 
 object of Mr. Blackstone in sending a special messenger 
 after him. Mad his sudden departure from Melbourne 
 on the day after the fire at the factory given rise to any 
 damaging suspicions ? But he dismissed that idea in 
 an instant — he surely could not be suspected of arson ! 
 Only a madman would be guilty of burning his own 
 bread cupboard, liesidcs, Mr. Blackstone would not be 
 so politely anxious about such a matter as that. After 
 cogitating over some other suggestions of his own ex- 
 cited fancy, with no satisfactory result, Ben said to Mr. 
 Sharp, " Can you give me some little explanation of 
 Mr. Blackstone's object in sending you after me ? A 
 mere hint might relieve the unpleasant suspense I am 
 now feeling." 
 
 "AH that I dare tell you, sir, is that Mr. Blackstone 
 received by last mail a private communication from Mrs. 
 Marshall, of Ncwby Hall, and he sent me off to your 
 lodgings at Carlton to tell you that he wished to sec
 
 BEN RETURNS TO MELBOURNE. 281 
 
 you immediately. As you were not at home, I was 
 instructed to search till I found you, and to make haste 
 over it." 
 
 " Oho ! that's it, is it ? Yes, yes ; now I understand 
 it all, Mr. Sharp, and I can explain everything in a few 
 words," said Ben with much excitement, for he concluded 
 that the purport of Mrs. Marshall's communication was 
 about the bank draft which he had omitted to acknow- 
 ledge. He gave a clear explanation of the affair 
 to Mr. Sharp, and asked him to tell it all to his 
 employer. 
 
 " Your statement is as clear as logic itself to me, Mr, 
 Bruce ; but I wish you to come with me to see Mr. 
 Blackstone. To tell you the truth, I don't like to go 
 back without you, for I may lose my billet. My governor 
 gets cross if his clerks don't do just what he wishes them 
 to do." 
 
 After a little more consideration, Ben concluded that 
 he could not expect much pleasure in his contemplated 
 tour to Bendigo and other famous diggings, with his 
 mind in a state of perplexing suspense, and especially 
 if Mr. Sharp meant to follow him about like a detective 
 officer, so he decided to return to Melbourne forthwith. 
 Mr. Sharp said he had instructions to pay all expenses. 
 Ben did not object to that uncommon proposition. They 
 hired a conveyance to Kyneton, and then took the after- 
 noon train for Melbourne. Mr. Sharp was very pressing 
 for Ben to go to Mr. Blackstonc's private house, as it 
 was past office hours, but Ben positively declined ; he 
 promised, however, that he would call at the office at 
 ten o'clock next day. 
 
 Punctually to time Ben entered Mr. Blackstonc's office 
 on the following morning, and was received with marked 
 courtesy. After complimenting him on his healthy
 
 282 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 appearance, Mr. Blackstone remarked, " I have lately 
 received a communication from Mrs. Marshall, and I 
 wish to confer with you thereupon, Mr. Bruce." 
 
 "Yes, sir, Mr. Sharp told me as much, and I have 
 explained to him the particulars of that unfortunate 
 omission of mine. I regret it very much, because " 
 
 "Pardon me, my dear sir, for interrupting you, but 
 that is not the purport of Mrs. Marshall's advices to me 
 — in fact, she did not mention that little circumstance. 
 Mrs. Marshall is very desirous of seeing you for certain 
 private reasons which she will explain to you personally. 
 At the date of the letter she was confined to her bed, 
 with severe injuries caused by an accident, and it was 
 doubtful if she would recover. She had learned with 
 much regret that you had left England ; and having 
 some reason for believing that you were in this city, 
 she sent me instructions to search for you, and to prevail 
 upon you to return to England without delay." 
 
 " That is impossible, sir," said Ben emphatically. 
 
 " How so, may I ask, Mr. Bruce? " 
 
 " In the first place, sir, I have a promise of permanent 
 employment in Melbourne, which I am not willing to 
 lose ; and there are other considerations of a domestic 
 nature which induce me to stay here. Besides, I have 
 not the means of paying my travelling expenses to 
 England if I wished to go." 
 
 " I have an authority from Mrs. Marshall to supply 
 you with necessary funds, Mr. l^rucc. In short, I may 
 as well tell you that I liavc a letter of credit on Messrs, 
 Coutts & Co.'s bank for ^500, which is at your service, 
 provided you agree to start for England at once." 
 
 ]5en opened his eyes very wide at that unexpected 
 announcement, and asked with unfeigned surprise, 
 "What ill the world can Mrs. Marsliall want me for, 
 sir?"
 
 A STARTLING PROPOSAL. 283 
 
 "That I cannot tell you," replied Mr. Blackstone, 
 with a kind fatherly smile. "But it is clear to me 
 that she is very anxious to see you. I think it is likely 
 she may wish to ask you some important questions 
 respecting her unfortunate son. Really, Mr. Bruce, I 
 must say I wonder that you should hesitate in going to 
 see a lady who is so very liberally inclined towards you." 
 
 " I hope you will forgive me for asking the question, 
 sir ; but do you think, from the character of Mrs. Mar- 
 shall's letter to you, that she is quite rational — or, that 
 is to say, is she in her right senses .-' " 
 
 " Undoubtedly, sir. No question of the fact. Sane 
 as I am. You are naturally enough excited at this dis- 
 closure ; but if you will allow me to offer you a little 
 calm advice, I would suggest that you start for England 
 by the overland route, a nice pleasant trip that I should 
 like to take myself. The mail steamer will leave this 
 port the day after to-morrow. Get ready to go in her, 
 sir. Anything that I can do for you in the meantime, I 
 will do it with pleasure." 
 
 " Oh, I cannot go so soon as that," said Ben, .and the 
 idea of leaving his beloved Annie seemed to rise up as 
 a positive barrier to his going at any time. " Will you 
 please to give mc a few hours to think over this im- 
 portant matter, Mr. Blackstone t I must consult some 
 of my friends before I can decide." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, Mr. Bruce. By all means consult your 
 friends. I don't wish you to act with undue precipitancy. 
 Suppose you call here again at three o'clock this after- 
 noon. Or I will wait on you at your home, if more 
 convenient to you." 
 
 " I should not like to trouble you to call on me, sir ; 
 I will be here again by the time you appoint," said Ben, 
 and he rose to go.
 
 284 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " Oh, by the way, Mr. Bruce, I was almost forgetting 
 to ask you — can you give me any particulars of your 
 parentage ? I mean, can you furnish me with a copy of 
 the baptismal register of your father or mother ? " 
 
 " No, I cannot, sir," replied Ben, somewhat haughtily. 
 " And I do not see what use such documents could be 
 to you or to Mrs. Marshall, even if I could supply them. 
 Excuse me for speaking plainly, sir." 
 
 " It was a mere precautionary measure on my part to 
 insure identity ; but perhaps it is unnecessary. I am 
 convinced that you are the gentleman I am instructed 
 to treat with. Yes, it is all right, Mr. Bruce. I shall 
 expect you at three o'clock this afternoon. Good-morn- 
 ing, sir." 
 
 Ben left the office in a state of nervous tumult. He 
 hired a cab and told the driver to take him to Carlton 
 as quickly as possible. But when about half-way there 
 he bade the man drive to the Plinders Street railway- 
 station. There he took the train for Sandridge, and 
 went directly on board the steamship London to consult 
 with his friend, Frank Shorter. It fortunately happened 
 that he was not busy, so he took Ben into a little cabin 
 on deck, and there listened with astonishment to his 
 exciting disclosure. 
 
 " This is a strange affair, Frank, and I cannot make 
 it out at all. The more I think over it the more 
 puzzled I get," remarked Ben, when he had given Frank 
 the particulars as far as he knew them himself 
 
 " It certainly is puzzling, looking at it in one way, 
 Ben, because we don't hear above once in a blue moon 
 of anybody being so generous as that dear old lady has 
 been to us two poor fellows. But it's plain enough to 
 me that she is very fond of you, and I dare say she is 
 going to give you something handsome for your services
 
 'TD BE OFF DOUBLE QUICK." 285 
 
 to her rattle-brained son. Maybe she is going to adopt 
 you. We have heard of such whims in rich old ladies 
 before now. Her butler told me that she has more 
 money than she knows what to do with, and no doubt 
 she means to ask you to spend some of it for her. What 
 are you going to do .'' " 
 
 " I can't make up my mind yet, Frank. I have come 
 down here on purpose to ask your advice. What do you 
 say ? " 
 
 " Why, go and see the old lady, to be sure. That's 
 your course as plain as any compass could show it. 
 The five hundred pounds she has sent out for you will 
 pay your expenses home and out again, and still leave 
 you twice as much as you could earn at box-making in 
 that time, even if she doesn't give you any more. I 
 wish 1 had such a chance, Ben ; I'd be off double quick, 
 like a runaway rogue." 
 
 "Mr. Blackstone wants me .to start by the mail steamer 
 on Sunday next." 
 
 •' Hi, hi ! he's in a rare flurry to get quit of you, and 
 that's puzzling to me; but there's no fathoming a lawyer's 
 depth. It looks almost as if you were a good-for-nothing 
 customer after all, or not worth keeping. But what will 
 Annie and her mother say to it, eh, mate? I guess 
 the poor girl won't wish to start you off in such a tre- 
 mendous hurry." 
 
 " That is what I am most concerned about, Heigho ! 
 I wish I could get married, and take Annie with me." 
 
 " Ah, that would be nice, wouldn't it ? You could 
 have honeymoon all the way home. We brought a 
 young married couple out with us in the London this 
 trip, and it was quite animating to all hands to notice 
 how the happy pair enjoyed the voyage, with nothing 
 to do but to love one another. Ha, ha ! They'll never
 
 2S6 IN' THE DEPTHS OP THE SEA. 
 
 have such a jolly time of it again, I'll warrant; for they 
 are going to one of the cannibal islands in the South 
 Sea as missionaries. But I say, Ben, it strikes me if 
 Annie knew as much as I do of that handsome damsel 
 at Newby Hall, she wouldn't like you to go home single 
 lest she should lose you altogether. You must take care 
 of your heart if you go alone, or it will be caught like 
 a bird on a limed cherry-tree." 
 
 " No fear of that, Frank. I am under an engagement 
 to Annie Blake, and that is almost as binding with 
 me as matrimony. Besides, Edith Marshall is ever so 
 many grades above my social level. I admire her, not 
 only for her beauty but for her kindly manners ; but I 
 would almost as soon hope of possessing the famous 
 Koh-i-noor diamond as think of ever calling Miss Mar- 
 shall my wife. I am not so ambitious as you suppose." 
 
 " You wouldn't be the first smart young fellow of 
 humble degree who married a grand lady. But don't 
 look so grim over it, mate, I was only a joking a bit. It 
 is right that an engagement between two lovers should 
 be sacredly kept, though it is often broken by fellows 
 who have no manly feeling. But I have no fear of you 
 doing anything that isn't above-board and straight- 
 forward. You'll have to go home again, Ben, so we 
 needn't argue any more on that score, and I don't sec 
 why you shouldn't go in this ship. She will sail in 
 about twelve days. We should have plenty of time to 
 talk together on the voyage. What do you say ^ " 
 
 "A capital idea, Frank. Nothing will please me 
 better, if Mr. Blackstonc is willing that I should wait 
 so long. This is a good ship, I suppose .-'" 
 
 "Yes, she is good enough for cabin passengers, and 
 you can afford to go first class now ; but she isn't a 
 comfortable ship for the hands forward, nor for passen-
 
 ANNIE AND BEN. 287 
 
 gers in the steerage. Too wet, Ben, that's the most 
 fault I find with her. She is a first-class ship and well 
 officered, though I say it myself." 
 
 A somewhat lengthy discussion ensued, which it is 
 unnecessary to report. When Ben left the ship he went 
 straightway to Mr. Blackstone's office, and told him that 
 he had almost decided to go to England in the London, 
 The lawyer used his best logic to induce Ben to go in 
 the mail steamer, but without effect, so he at length 
 acquiesced in the plan ; and then told Ben that he was 
 at liberty to draw the ;^500, or any part of it, whenever 
 he chose, upon signing an acknowledgment for the same. 
 
 That evening there was a tender scene between Ben 
 and Annie. The unexpected news of his speedy de- 
 parture from the colony was a shock to her, which 
 she did not strive to conceal. Her affection for him 
 had been of a modest, undemonstrative kind, though not 
 less deep ; but the prospect of so soon parting with him 
 was a test which proved to Ben the warmth of her 
 attachment. He tenderly proposed that she should 
 accompany him as his wife, but she gave such sensible 
 reasons why she could not do so that he ceased to press 
 it, and they again mutually exchanged vows of un- 
 swerving fidelity, and agreed to correspond by each 
 mail. 
 
 Mrs. Blake was also much concerned at Ben's con- 
 templated departure. She had heard a good deal from 
 Frank of Mrs. Marshall's kindness of disposition, and she 
 argued therefrom that she was desirous of showing her 
 gratitude to Ben for his attention to her misguided son. 
 " It is exactly what I should do myself," reasoned Mrs. 
 Blake ; " if I were rich, and any one who was poor had 
 shown kindness to a child of mine, I would reward him 
 liberally." Of course Mrs. Blake had seen more of the
 
 2 88 JN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 world than her daughter had, and she knew the dangerous 
 influence which money exerts on some minds ; and her 
 maternal fears suggested that if Ben got even moderately- 
 rich, he might look for a wife more accomplished and 
 of higher rank than her poor Annie. Those and other 
 natural fears disturbed her mind, but she did not even 
 whisper them to Annie, whose confidence in her lover 
 was as firm as her faith in her devoted mother's love. 
 
 A fortnight's holiday to a girl who has been for many 
 months closely engaged in a shop or workroom, is a boon 
 the bare prospect of which [might make a weary heart 
 bound with new hope and spirit. A lady, who lived in 
 a pleasant inland county of England, used to invite a 
 party of respectable girls, as many as she could nicely 
 accommodate — from London shops, to spend a few weeks 
 in the summer season at her comfortable home in the 
 country. She generously provided them with return 
 railway tickets, and paid all other incidental expenses of 
 their outing, and it was an outing in reality, for they did 
 not spend much of their time indoors, and they were all 
 as merry as singing birds. When their holiday term 
 expired the lady drove her young guests to the railway- 
 station, and slipped a sovereign into the hand of each 
 one as she bade her adieu. The girls usually left with 
 eyes overflowing with tears of mingled gratitude to 
 their kind hostess, and regret that their happy country 
 tour was over. That good lady was doubtless repaid 
 for her kindness, by the consciousness of having 
 ministered to the enjoyment of those hard-worked girls, 
 and they would ever remember her hospitality with 
 loving thankfulness. 
 
 Holiday vacations are perhaps not so rare to shop 
 girls in Australia as they are to the same class in Eng- 
 land, for in general girls in the former place earn higher
 
 A MEMORABLE FORTNIGH'l. 289 
 
 wages, and are thus better able to afford an occasional 
 outing ; besides, the public holidays are more frequent 
 in Melbourne and Sydney than they are in London. A 
 holiday was not so rare a treat to Annie Blake as it was 
 to many other shop-girls even in Melbourne, for her 
 mistress was more than commonly considerate for the 
 health of her young employees, and no doubt she found 
 that it was sound policy to give them an airing pretty 
 often, and thus keep them in working condition. If 
 that good feeling were general it would save a vast 
 amount of suffering. 
 
 But the holiday that Annie got for the fortnight prior 
 to Ben's departure from Victoria, was indeed an extra- 
 ordinary one to her, and it was an equally rare treat 
 for Ben. He had never had such a treat before in 
 his life's experience. To have a season of thorough 
 leisure with plenty of money to spend, and above all to 
 have as companion and sharer of his holiday pleasures 
 the girl of his heart, his darling Annie, was almost more 
 than he could have dared to dream of a few weeks before- 
 Each day they were out together. Sometimes they 
 were accompanied by Mrs. Blake, but oftener they went 
 by themselves, which was nicer. Their quiet rambles 
 in the Botanic Gardens, their boating trips on the charm- 
 ing Yarra Yarra, their visits to the Academy of Arts, 
 and other places of intellectual refreshment and health- 
 ful recreation, were all joys which were long remem- 
 bered with feelings of the tenderest kind. 
 
 I might fill a chapter or two with the loving ex- 
 periences of Ben and Annie for that memorable fort- 
 night ; but I think I may as well leave that part of my 
 story unwritten, for old readers might not enjoy it 
 much, and most of my young readers can imagine it all, 
 more tenderly and naturally than I could describe it. 
 
 U
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Homeward bound ! 
 
 Ben was leaning against the ensign-staff abaft the wheel 
 
 of the steamship London^ in Hobson's Bay, and was 
 
 intently watching a ferrj^-boat that was sailing towards 
 
 the landing stairs at Sandridge pier. Ever and anon a 
 
 white handkerchief fluttered from the stern sheets of the 
 
 boat, which love signal Ben often returned. The boat 
 
 contained Annie Blake and her mother, who had left 
 
 the ship after taking a last adieu of their departing 
 
 friends, Ben and Frank. All the crew of the London 
 
 were active, for it was a busy time ; the anchor was just 
 
 off the ground, and the order to " Turn ahead quite 
 
 slow,'^ had been signalled down to the engine-room. 
 
 Frank Shorter was at his post of duty on the forecastle ; 
 
 but he stole time enough to cast a glance now and then 
 
 at the retreating ferry-boat, and if he brushed a tear or 
 
 two from his eyelids, the act did not detract from his 
 
 efficiency as a seaman and an officer. Thousands of 
 
 brave sailors, and soldiers also, have dropped tears at 
 
 the sight of retreating boats, which carried beloved 
 
 wives, or sweethearts, or mothers on shore, after bidding 
 
 tender farewells. It is natural. 
 
 Though it was a secret to every one but himself, it 
 was nevertheless a fact that Frank loved Widow Blake, 
 lie would have told her the state of his heart before he 
 
 2(yO
 
 FRANK'S SECRET. 291 
 
 left the country, if his circumstances had been more 
 encouraging ; but he reasoned that if he, with merely a 
 second mate's pay, and not much of a reserv'e fund, were 
 to propose marriage to a woman with a comfortable 
 house of her own and other belongings, he might be 
 suspected of selfishly looking out for a nice warm berth 
 for himself, as skulking sailors often do. So Frank kept 
 the secret of his love in his own breast, and resolved that 
 he would try for a master's certificate on his arrival at 
 London, and if he got it he would return to Melbourne 
 as soon as possible, and look out for a master's berth 
 in the intercolonial trade, and then he would make Mrs . 
 Blake an offer of his hand and heart. She was the 
 kindest and best woman he had known since he left his 
 dear mother's arms, and it was the only time in his life 
 that he had ever seriously encouraged a hope that there 
 was a wife born for him — a thriftless tippling old sailor. 
 As Annie and her mother returned to Carlton, they 
 were each silently engaged with their own reflections. 
 Mrs. Blake could not overcome an anxiety she felt lest 
 Ben should in his improved circumstances forget or 
 ignore his humble friends in Melbourne ; and she would 
 rather that he had continued to be dependent on his 
 own handicraft for a livelihood than hear of his possess- 
 ing a fortune. Annie was sad at parting with her lover, 
 which was natural enough, but she was not troubled 
 with any misgivings about his fidelity to her. Of course 
 she did not know so much about the deceitfulness of 
 mankind in general as her mother did, nor did she want 
 to know it ; she believed that Ben's love for her was as 
 pure as the gem which sparkled in the ring that he had 
 placed on her finger, in token of their mutual engage- 
 ment and of his undying constancy. A little jealousy 
 of Miss Marshall did for a moment try to enter her
 
 292 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 mind, but she expelled it at once as dishonouring to the 
 man who had so passionately told her that his heart 
 was entirely her own, ]\Irs. Blake had a kind regard 
 for Frank, for rough as his exterior was, she could not 
 but observe that he had a depth of moral principle, and 
 a more than ordinary share of common-sense or prac- 
 tical wisdom ; but she had no idea that he cherished 
 matrimonial longings for her, he had never given her 
 any cause to suppose such a thing, and his manner to- 
 wards her had always been resj^ectfully reserved. She 
 returned to her cottage with her sad-hearted daughter, 
 and there I will leave them to their reflections and their 
 home duties, while I follow the course of Ben and 
 Frank. I have no idea of giving the monotonous 
 particulars of their voyage, but I must mention one 
 incident, which was too important an event in Ben's 
 history to be omitted in my story. 
 
 One night, when nearing the equator, the London was 
 sailing along with a fresh breeze. Ben had been walk- 
 ing the deck with Frank, talking pleasantly about past 
 events, and speculating a little on their future prospects. 
 The ship was under a press of canvas, and was speeding • 
 along faster than Ben had ever sailed before. When the 
 third officer relieved the watch at midnight, Frank told 
 him to keep a sharp look-out for squalls, for the wind 
 was veering a little, and the weather looked rather 
 threatening. Ben then retired to his cabin and turned 
 into his berth. At about four bells he was aroused by 
 the flapping of sails and shouts of the officer on deck, 
 and he soon found by the altered list of the ship that 
 she was taken aback in a hard squall. lie sprang out 
 of bed, for he was always ready on an emergency to lend 
 a helping hand on deck (although he was then a cabin 
 passenger), but before he had half dressed himself the
 
 IN DANGER. 293 
 
 ship was hove nearly on her beam ends, and the mov- 
 able articles in his cabin were tumbling and crashing 
 all around him. He seized the handle of his cabin- 
 door, but to his dismay he could not open it — owing to 
 the straining of the ship the door had become tightly 
 jammed. The roaring of the wind and rushing of water 
 down the main hatchway filled him with terror, for he 
 thought the ship was sinking. Again he tugged with 
 frantic energy at the cabin-door, but it was as fast as if 
 bolted and barred. . Death seemed to stare him in the 
 face more closely than it had ever done before, and 
 there seemed to be no possibility of escape. In distress 
 of mind, such as no one can describe, he fell on his 
 knees and prayed to God to save him. Many an infidel 
 scoffer, whose life has been one round of sinful folly, has 
 uttered an agonizing prayer to God for help, when the 
 prospect of sudden death has aroused his guilty fears. 
 A few minutes afterwards the shi23 partially righted, for 
 she was falling off before the wind. Ben again pulled 
 violently at his cabin-door, when it flew open and he 
 fell backwards and struck his head against his sea-chest. 
 He was stunned by the blow, and there he lay on the 
 deck until the state-room steward came and helped him 
 into his berth. Although not seriously hurt, he was 
 advised by the doctor to keep below all the next day. 
 
 But the impression made on his mind by the accident 
 was not so soon forgotten as the physical pain resulting 
 from it. In the quietude of his cabin (it was Sunday, 
 and a bright calm day), he reflected on the extreme 
 folly of living unprepared for the awful change which 
 death inevitably brings to a man, and he humbly 
 resolved — in reliance on Divine help — that he would 
 thenceforward live a life of faith in Christ, so that 
 should death again suddenly stare him in the face, it
 
 294 /^ THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 would not bring such overwhelming terrors as he felt at 
 that awful time, when he thought he was going down to 
 the depths of the sea shut up in his cabin, and that 
 in a few minutes he would be in the presence of an un- 
 reconciled God. That was the most important turning- 
 point in Ben's life. On that still sabbath night he and 
 his good friend Frank had a solemn religious service in 
 his cabin, and they gave thanks together to the " Father 
 of all mercies " for the comforting assurance they each 
 felt that their sins were all pardoned, and that if the 
 ship should go down under them before the morning 
 light, they would enter upon a glorious immortality in 
 the realm where " there shall be no more sea." In the 
 truest and happiest sense of the phrase, they were 
 " Iwmeward boinid."
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 " Some feelings are to mortals given, 
 ^Vith less of earth in them than heaven." 
 
 — Scott, 
 
 The London made a fair passage, and a little more than 
 two months after leaving Melbourne she was steaming 
 up the English Channel. Ben and Frank had ample 
 time on the voyage to discuss their plans, and to arrange 
 them with cool judgment. It was agreed that Ben 
 should go direct to Newby Hall when he landed, and 
 Frank should get on shore as soon as he could, and go 
 and tell Mrs. Bruce of her grandson's return, but not to 
 explain to her his motive for returning so suddenly. 
 Ben would fain have gone to see his grandmother before 
 he went elsewhere, but he dreaded a scene with some of 
 her neighbours, who might still be disposed to carry out 
 their threat to punish him in their spiteful way. Besides, 
 he had promised Mr. Blackstone that he would see Mrs. 
 Marshall as soon as possible, and he was naturally 
 enough impatient to know what her object was in send- 
 ing for him so urgently. It was late in the evening 
 when he left the ship, so he went in a cab to the Great 
 Northern Hotel, to be in readiness to start by the early 
 
 train for S . On his way to the hotel he posted a 
 
 letter to his grandmother, apprising her of his return to 
 England, and stating that business of an urgent character 
 would perhaps detain him in Durham for a few days ; 
 but he would return to London as soon as possible and
 
 296 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 see her. The next morning he started by the mail train 
 
 for S , without having met with any one in London 
 
 whom he knew. 
 
 On the evening of the second day Frank got leave 
 of absence from his ship for a few hours, and went to 
 Hackney for the purpose of seeing Mrs. Bruce, and 
 telling her all the cheering news he could about her 
 grandson ; but on his arrival at her house he found it 
 shut up. He learnt from one of the neighbours, that 
 Mrs. Bruce had closed her shop more than two months 
 ago, though she still lived in the house, when she was at 
 home. She was seen to leave home in a great hurry 
 that morning, soon after the postman had called on her, 
 but where she went nobody could guess ; she was such 
 a sly old woman, she never told any one her affairs. A 
 little group of women soon gathered around Frank, as 
 he was making his inquiry, and some of them wanted 
 to know more than he could tell them of Mrs. Bruce's 
 business. They also were anxious to know what had 
 become of her proud grandson ;- but they did not get 
 any satisfactory news from Frank. He soon returned 
 to his ship, cogitating over the cause of Widow Bruce's 
 retiring from her grocery business, and also over the 
 mystery of her sudden departure from her home that 
 morning. 
 
 When Ben arrived at S , he hired a cab at the 
 
 railway-station and drove direct to Newby Hall. He 
 purposely avoided going to the Red Lion or to any 
 other inn, for he feared he might be an object of curi- 
 osity, as he was before, and he had no desire for such 
 notoriety or for obsequious attention cither. He found 
 the external aspect of Newby Hall much the same as 
 when he was there before. The blinds were all drawn 
 down, and the same deathlike stillness and gloom
 
 BEN ASTOUNDED. 297 
 
 seemed to hang about the place, and he supposed Mrs. 
 Marshall's grief for her lost son was as poignant as ever. 
 The footn:ian, whom he had seen before, opened the 
 door and bowed very respectfully to him, and then 
 showed him into the same sombre parlour where the 
 family portraits were hanging to the wall. In less than 
 two minutes the footman opened the door again, and 
 Miss Marshall, clad in deepest mourning, entered the 
 room. Her manner was peculiarly excited, and Ben 
 thought he had never before seen such a dazzling 
 beauty ; but he had no time for admiring observation, 
 for she rushed toward him, flung herself into his arms, 
 and kissed him passionately. 
 
 " My darling, darling Ben ! " she exclaimed, and 
 clasped her arms about his neck with almost ecstatic 
 fondness, while tears rolled down her lovely face. " Oh 
 how glad I am that you are come, dear ! How anxiously 
 I have been expecting you, week after week ! The time 
 has seemed to drag along so heavily with me ! Oh I 
 am thankful you have arrived safely ! " 
 
 To say that Ben was surprised is too faint an expres- 
 sion — he was fairly astounded, spell-bound, as it were, 
 and he mutely yielded to her warm endearments as if 
 he were enchanted or mesmerised. " Is it a fascinating 
 dream, or a trance, or some magical illusion .? Is it 
 possible that I am awake .'' " Those were questions 
 which flashed into his brain for an instant, but his eyes 
 as promptly answered, " It is all real life, and no magic 
 about it, for there stands the old footman in his black 
 livery, looking as if he were gravely interested in the 
 loving scene." But more convincing than anything else, 
 there was the charming Edith herself, still clinging to 
 him, and sobbing out such expressions of tender endear- 
 ment as had never greeted his cars before — much more
 
 298 m THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 thrilling than the softest words of his late devoted 
 mother. The tumult of conflicting feelings that was 
 aroused in his breast no stoical reader can possibly 
 imagine nor any prosy old writer describe. There was 
 the glow of that pure veneration which he had first felt 
 for the young lady, as for a being of almost sublime 
 perfections, warring with a sense of the impropriety, 
 nay, the almost wantonness of her conduct, in embracing 
 a comparative stranger in that familiar way ; and there 
 was her powerful fascination struggling with his sense 
 of modesty and honour, and his sacred troth to virtuous 
 Annie Blake — a mortal conflict between passion and 
 principle ; but the latter was the victor. It was a hard 
 struggle, but principle triumphed. To tear himself from 
 her embrace was his immediate resolve — he dared not 
 risk that bewitching contiguity another moment. In a 
 state of excitement verging on bewilderment, he bore 
 the half-fainting girl to a couch, and bade the footman 
 sprinkle a little water over her face, and call her maid 
 servant. Ben then left the house by the hall door, and 
 was soon beyond the sounds of Miss Marshall's hysterical 
 sobbing. 
 
 He walked hurriedly to the arbour in the park, where 
 he had on his previous visit spent a pleasant half-hour. 
 There he flung himself into a rustic seat, and tried to 
 reflect on that most unlooked-for occurrence in his 
 strange career. As soon as his disturbed brain had 
 calmed down a little, it seemed clear to him that Miss 
 Marshall was madly in love with him ; that hers had 
 been a desperate case of love at first sight, and he sadly 
 feared that it had affected her intellect. He could sec 
 it all, as plainly as lovc-craziness was ever seen ; and 
 his being sent for over the sea in such a hurry was no 
 longer a puzzling mystery to him. He had quite un-
 
 BEN'S REFLECTIONS. 299 
 
 wittingly smitten Miss Marshall on his short visit a few 
 months before, and perhaps she had pined for him to 
 such an alarming extent that her indulgent grand- 
 mother had been persuaded to break through the estab- 
 lished etiquette, or rules of honest courtship, and had 
 sent for him to console the lovelorn maid. Yes, it was 
 now plain enough that the mysterious object Mrs. 
 Marshall had in wishing to see him, was to request him 
 to marry the maid. She had perhaps found out that he 
 was a poor young man, and she fancied that money 
 would buy his ready acquiescence to a marriage compact 
 with her grand-daughter, though she was silly. The cash 
 she had sent for him to Melbourne was a sort of golden 
 bait, and lawyer Blackstone knew all about it, for there 
 was a peculiarly cunning smirk on his face when he 
 said, " I have a bank draft for ;i6^5oo, which is at your 
 disposal, Mr. Bruce, if you will go to England immedi- 
 ately," All that was settled in Ben's mind, as decisively 
 as any right verdict was ever arrived at by a special 
 juryman ; and perhaps it was rather flattering to his 
 innate vanity. 
 
 Then Ben sat for a while, and tried to recall every 
 tittle of his strange emotion, when Miss Marshall first 
 threw her soft arms about his neck, and called him her 
 " darling, darling Ben ! " with such touching pathos, 
 while her beautiful, innocent looking eyes seemed to 
 speak of undying love. It was an enticing retrospect, 
 and he sat and yielded to fancies more romantic that 
 he had ever before indulged, or even dreamed of. He 
 had heard and read of ladies of high degree occasionally 
 becoming violently in love with men much below them 
 in rank ; so there was nothing actually new in his case 
 except perhaps his being sent for from the opposite side 
 of the world — he had never heard of that being done
 
 300 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 before, though he had heard of many curious expedients 
 which over-heated love had adopted. The most proper 
 young man alive might perhaps find it somewhat hard 
 to honestly condemn Ben for indulging in those fascin- 
 ating reflections for a few minutes, still his conscience 
 owned that it was not fair to his darling Annie. He 
 could not wholly persuade himself that it was disagree- 
 able to submit to the tenderly crazy caresses of poor 
 Miss Marshall ; still, as a man of honour, he must not 
 place himself in the way of her repeating the loving 
 process — nay, he dared not subject his moral principles 
 to so hazardous a test — to say nothing of the unman- 
 liness of toying or trifling with a weak-minded young 
 woman. He then determined that he would at once 
 seek an interview with Mrs. Marshall, and explain to 
 her his true position — unreservedly this time, and he 
 would incidentally inform her that he was under a sa-crcd 
 engagement to Annie Blake, and that statement would 
 perhaps stop her from making any appeal to him in 
 behalf of her unhappy grand-daughter. He could sec 
 now that it was unwise of him to come to England 
 before he knew what his errand was, but he did it for 
 the best, and it was useless to fret about it. One thing 
 he firmly decided upon, that he would resist all Mrs- 
 Marshall's importunities to marry Miss Marshall ; he 
 had promised his heart to his modest, humble Annie 
 and she should have it, even though a duchess were to 
 try to seduce him from his fealty. 
 
 With his mind fully made up to take an honest, manly 
 stand, Ikn left the arbour and walked with a firm step 
 towards the house. He took a circuitous route, in order 
 to give himself more time to recover his self-possession, 
 and on coming in sight of the lodge gates, he saw a fly 
 or cab just entering the drive.
 
 GRANDMOTHER BRUGES SUDDEN APPEARANCE. 301 
 
 "Visitors, I suppose," ejaculated Ben. "Perhaps 
 they will only make a short stay, so I had better wait 
 outside till they are gone." He then turned towards 
 the arbour again, but on casting a side glance at the 
 mansion, his surprise and consternation may be imagined 
 when he saw his grandmother get out of the fly, and 
 enter the hall doorway as unceremoniously as if she 
 were going into her own little shop, after coming from 
 market. 
 
 If Ben had been suspected of robbing the dear old 
 lady of all her little stock-in-trade, and she had come to 
 accuse him of his roguery, he could hardly have felt 
 more concerned — or, I may say, more staggered. He 
 again, somewhat pettishly, put the question to himself, 
 " Am I awake, or is this all a perplexing dream .^ " He 
 was soon, however, convinced that he was not asleep, 
 and he hastily returned to the arbour in the park, as 
 crestfallen as if he were going to the treadmill. There 
 he sat in the rustic chair, looking more wretched than 
 he had ever looked at sea, even in his most squeamish 
 hour. His first impulse was to jump over the park 
 fence, run across the fields to the railway-station, and 
 take the first train for London, and then take the first 
 ship for Melbourne ; but on half a minute's reflection, 
 he scouted that idea as unworthy of an honest head. 
 Other wild schemes and devices were also discarded as 
 impracticable. To run away, he thought, would only 
 be a temporary relief to his trouble, like swallowing a 
 narcotic pill or a sleeping draught ; besides, after all, 
 he was not a thief or a schemer. 
 
 " That one hasty, beggarly lie I told to Mrs. Marshall 
 to hide my unlucky birth, has been the cause of more 
 misery to me than any other wicked act I can remember 
 committing," he soliloquised. " Not that I feel any
 
 302 m THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 acute sorrow for the deception, I am ashamed to say, 
 but it is the fear of being found out in a mean subterfuge 
 that worries me. I have had infinitely more dread of 
 Mrs. Marshall detecting me in a shabby lie, than I have 
 felt for the wilful sin itself — more fear of Mrs. Marshall 
 than I have of my Almighty Judge. Oh dear ! I hope 
 this humiliation will be a caution to me for life, to 'keep 
 the door of my lips,' and never to expect any help from 
 lying expedients." 
 
 Ben sat a little while in quiet cogitation, and his 
 opinion of himself during that mental exercise was of 
 a most humbling character. Presently he started to his 
 feet again, and exclaimed emphatically, " That decep- 
 tion of mine shall not disturb my mind any longer ! I 
 will go and make a full confession to Mrs. Marshall, and 
 ask her to forgive me. I have not the least idea what 
 my grandmother has come here for, but as she is now 
 in the house, she shall hear my degrading explanation. 
 Come what may, I will make a clean breast of it before 
 them all. Pride instigated me to the sinful deceit, and 
 pride must suffer for it." 
 
 Ben then walked towards the mansion, with his heart 
 resolved to do what was right in the matter. He was 
 about to pull the handle of the bell at the hall door, 
 when his grandmother rushed from one of the French 
 windows in the parlour, and clasped him in her arms, 
 with a maternal embrace, quite as hearty as the fondling 
 he had received a short time before from Miss Marshall. 
 
 " Oh, my dear boy ! My precious boy ! how pleased 
 I am to see you again ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bruce, while 
 tears of joy attested the truth of her words. Ikn re- 
 turned her embrace with affectionate warmth, and then 
 he led her back into the parlour, and sat down beside 
 her on a couch.
 
 BEN'S PERPLEXITIES. 303 
 
 "Are you ill, my love?" asked his grandmother, 
 gazing at his troubled face with some degree of alarm. 
 " Do tell me what ails you ? " 
 
 " I am not ill, grandmother ; but— but— er— the fact 
 is, I am bewildered, as you can see. I shall be better 
 presently. Have patience with me and you shall hear 
 all about it. Yes, yes, of course I am glad to see you, 
 grandmother! But do pray tell me, in a word or two, 
 what has brought you to this house, and how you 
 knew that I was here ? " 
 
 "Why, when I got your letter early this morning, 
 telling me that your ship had arrived, I started off here 
 directly to meet you. I just caught the express train ; 
 and oh dear me ! what a terrible rate I have travelled 
 at! I shall never forget it as long as. I live. I have not 
 got over my flurry yet. When I got here, about an 
 hour ago, I found dear Edith in great distress. Poor 
 girl ! she was fretting herself half blind because she said 
 you were so cold to her, and she has been looking for 
 you day and night for ever so many weeks, as longingly 
 as I have. Poor dear ! she zuas anxious to see you, 
 sure enough ! " 
 
 " How > why } Gran " 
 
 " Stay a minute, Ben, I am going to tell you. So I 
 said to her, ' Edith, my love, it's only Ben's way. He 
 looks cold and cross with me sometimes, but he is as 
 loving a boy as the world ever saw — couldn't be kinder, 
 only he is naturally nervous, and a bit fidgety and-7- 
 Now do pray sit down again, Ben ! I really am dis- 
 tressed to see you so excited. I thought I should see 
 you jumping for joy, as the saying is, at your good 
 fortune." 
 
 " I have something disturbing my mind, grandmother ; 
 but I shall be better when I have explained it, and I
 
 304 /A THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 want you to hear it all. Where is Mrs. Marshall } I 
 must see her immediately." 
 
 The look of alarm on his grandmother's countenance 
 at that moment further perplexed him. " See Mrs. 
 Marshall, Ben ! " she said with trembling lips. " Oh 
 don't distress me by talking in that dreadfully wild way ! 
 It is really wicked of you to upset us all this morning." 
 
 " I tell you again, I must see her, grandmother. I 
 have something to explain to her, and my mind will 
 not be easy till I have done it." 
 
 " Why, mercy 'pon us, Ben ! don't you know that poor 
 Mrs. Marshall has been in her grave eleven weeks or 
 more .-* " 
 
 " Oh dear me ! is it possible ! " responded Ben, while 
 a shadow of sorrow passed over his face. " I didn't 
 know it. I had no idea of it, grandmother. This is 
 quite a shock to me." 
 
 ** Haven't you received our letters .'* — but no, no, I am 
 forgetting that it takes nearly two months to reach 
 Melbourne. You could not have received them." 
 
 " I have not heard any news from you since I left 
 England, grandmother." 
 
 " But hasn't Mr. Mead explained matters to you, my 
 dear 1 " 
 
 " I have not seen Mr. Mead, don't know the gentle- 
 man ; in fact, I have not spoken to a soul about Mrs. 
 Marshall since I landed. I came direct to the Hall in a 
 cab, and since then I've been in a complete maze." 
 
 "Surely Edith has disclosed something to you, Ben?" 
 
 "You mean Miss Marshall, I suppose, grandmother. 
 She has not explained anything to me ; I wish she had 
 done so, for I am quite " 
 
 " Oh, my dear boy, what a mistake we have all made ! 
 You really don't know anything about it, then?"
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. ■ 305 
 
 " Know about what, grandmother ? I am more per- 
 plexed than ever," said Ben sharply. " Do explain all 
 this mystery to me. I know no more than an idiot why 
 I was asked to return to England so hastily; but if you 
 know, pray tell me at once, for this suspense is racking 
 my mind, and I cannot bear much more of it." 
 
 " Goo.dness me ! has nobody told you that poor Mrs. 
 Marshall was your grandmother — your father's mother, 
 and that dear Edith is your sister } " 
 
 " My sister ! " exclaimed Ben, bursting into tears. 
 He could not say any more, for he was almost over- 
 powered by the thrilling surprise. Mrs. Bruce then rang 
 the bell, and Edith soon entered the room. The next 
 moment she was locked in Ben's arms ; and the newly 
 found brother and sister were relieving in tears and sobs 
 the feelings of their surcharged hearts, while Widow 
 Bruce, with uplifted hands, was reverently expressing 
 her joy and gratitude at being permitted to witness such 
 a happy family meeting on earth. 
 
 X
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 "Few sons attain the place 
 Of their great sires, and most their sires' disgrace." 
 
 —Pope. 
 
 That was the most surprisingly eventful day Ben had 
 ever experienced. His kind grandmother was fearful 
 lest so much excitement should upset his brain, and a 
 variety of sad contingencies presented themselves to her 
 anxious mind. She had persuaded Edith to go to bed 
 early, for the poor girl needed rest, though she would 
 fain have stayed up later with her brother ; and he was 
 very loth to part with her. Again and again Ben's 
 grandmother begged him to go to bed, but in vain. He 
 said he should not be able to sleep a wink until he had 
 learnt more of his family affairs, and of his own good 
 fortune ; so she was obliged to indulge his wish, and at 
 a late hour that night they were sitting in the library 
 together, and a very lively conference they had ; such a 
 one as they had never had before. 
 
 It appeared from Mrs. Brucc's statement, (which I 
 shall give in fewer words than she used,) that soon 
 after Ben's visit to Newby Hall, as before related, Mrs. 
 Marshall had a singular dream, the precise nature of 
 which she never would tell any one, for she was always 
 careful not to encourage superstitious fancies ; but it 
 was supposed that it had reference to Ben in some way, 
 
 and it evidently influenced her mind, for she was ex- 
 
 306
 
 MRS. MARSHALUS DISCOVERY. 307 
 
 ceedingly anxious to see him again. Intent on that 
 purpose she started for London, when she was thrown 
 out of her carriage at her own lodge gates, and was 
 severely injured. A few days afterwards she wrote a 
 letter to Ben, addressed as before, urging him to come 
 to Newby Hall as soon as possible, for she was very 
 wishful to see him again. The letter was opened by 
 Mrs. Bruce, who replied to it, stating that her grandson 
 Benjamin had suddenly left his home, and she supposed- 
 he had returned to Melbourne. Several letters then 
 passed between Mrs. Bruce and ]\Irs. Marshall, and 
 eventually the former was induced to go to Newby Hall, 
 when, to her great surprise, she discovered that Mrs. 
 ]\Iarshall was the mother of poor Sophy's betrayer, 
 whom she had only known by his second name of 
 Gordon. Mrs. Marshall was greatly concerned when she 
 learnt that Ben had left England, and she at once told 
 her solicitor to take steps to insure his speedy return. 
 Hence the instructions to Mr. Blackstone to search for 
 Ben. 
 
 For some weeks Mrs. Marshall seemed to be progress- 
 ing favourably, but unfortunately erysipelas set in, and 
 her physician at length told her that her life was in 
 danger. She received the news with calm resignation, 
 and immediately began to arrange all her temporal 
 affairs. She sent for Mrs. Bruce, and pressed her to 
 accept of a home with Edith at Newby Hall ; but she 
 firmly declined to leave her present home, because it 
 was the house that her poor daughter died in ; so Mrs. 
 Marshall bequeathed her an annuity, sufficient to main- 
 tain her in comfort. She at once shut up her shop, 
 much to the surprise of her old neighbours, not one of 
 whom could remember any one making a fortune in a 
 small grocery shop in that street before. Mrs. Marshall
 
 3oS IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 left all her real estate to Ben, and an. ample provision 
 was made for Edith out of her funded property. Mrs. 
 Bruce had often visited Edith since her grandmother's 
 death, and -they had grown much attached to each 
 other. They had each written a letter to Ben, but the 
 letters did not reach him, because he left Melbourne 
 just before the arrival of the English mail, so he did not 
 know anything of his good fortune, until the news burst 
 upon him in the overwhelming way I have tried to 
 describe. Edith had eagerly anticipated her dear Ben's 
 return, and she was delighted at the prospect of having 
 a good brother to love and protect her. She had never 
 seemed weary of asking questions, about his qualities 
 and characteristics, of his fond grandmother, who was 
 equally pleased to talk about him. When Ben arrived 
 at the Hall, Edith was overjoyed to meet him. She 
 supposed that he knew of his near relationship to her — 
 that he had received her letter, or that he had seen his 
 grandmother, and learned from her all the events that 
 had occurred during his absence ; so it is no wonder 
 that the tender-hearted girl was hurt at his non-appre- 
 ciation of her affectionate welcome — of his stony cold 
 manner towards her, so different to what she had fondly 
 anticipated. 
 
 " I can hardly yet believe it is actually true, grand- 
 mother, that this fine mansion and park, and all the 
 grand furniture and pictures and plate, and rich chattels 
 of all sorts, belong to your poor boy Ben ! " he said 
 excitedly, when his grandmother paused for breath in 
 her interesting recital. 
 
 " It is all yours, my dear, and a vast deal more that 
 you have not yet seen. But I expect Mr. Mead, the 
 steward, will be here to-morrow, and he will tell you 
 more than I can about your property. This I know
 
 BEN'S FORTUNE. 309 
 
 that everything the dear old lady had is fairly divided 
 between you and Edith, except some legacies to old pen- 
 sioners and public charities, and an annuity she was kind 
 enough to leave to me. She said it was the just portion 
 of yourself and your dear sister, and she had tried to 
 make your shares pretty equal in value, though she 
 wished you to have all her landed property." 
 
 "Grandmother, you never told me before that I had a 
 sister! " 
 
 " I did not know it any more than you did, my dear. 
 Edith is your father's daughter, but she is not closely 
 related to me." 
 
 *' Oh, I see, I see, grandmother. She is my half-sister. 
 Bless her ! She shall have a whole heartful of brother's 
 love. How I shall prize the dear girl ! I am so glad I 
 have a sister. Who was her mother ? do you know ? " 
 
 " I have felt a delicacy in asking questions about her, 
 Ben. All I can tell you is, that she died when Edith 
 was born ; and Mrs. Marshall took the infant and brought 
 her up in her own house, and educated her as a lady. 
 Ay, and she is a real lady, Ben, and so you will say when 
 you know her as well as I do." 
 
 "Yes, she is a charming maid, and I am proud of my 
 sister. What a dear, kind lady Mrs. Marshall must 
 have beeU; grandmother! How I do wish I. had seen 
 her again before she died ! " 
 
 " She was extremely anxious to see you, Ben. She 
 told me that when she first saw you, she was struck 
 with the great likeness you bore to your late father ; 
 and if she had not supposed that you were a native of 
 Australia, she should have discovered your relationship 
 to her there and then. . What a pity she made that 
 mistake, wasn't it, dear .'' " 
 
 Ben merely sighed in reply to that touching interro-
 
 3IO IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 gation, and his grandmother contniued : "She was indeed 
 a good lady, Ben, and she will be sorely missed in this 
 parish. She said to me, as she lay on her dying bed, 
 ' Oh, Mrs. Bruce ! I do wish I had known, years ago, 
 that you were struggling to bring up that dear boy ; 
 how gladly I would have helped you, and provided for 
 his proper education. But poor Mr. Marshall did not 
 tell me of our son's misconduct to your daughter until 
 just before his death. His motive, no doubt, was to 
 save me from anxiety, but it would have been far better 
 for us all if I had known it. I am thankful that I have 
 it still in my power to provide for the dear boy. If I 
 should not live to see his kind face again, give my fond- 
 est love to him, and tell him I hope, and I fervently pray, • 
 that he will strive to do good with the large fortune that 
 I shall leave him.' " 
 
 " I shall not forget her loving words and her dying 
 injunctions," said Ben with emotion. 
 
 " Indeed, I hope you won't, my dear ! She also said 
 to me, ' There arc many pensioners of mine among the 
 poor people in this neighbourhood, Mrs. Bruce, and I 
 especially commend them to the care and kindness 
 of my beloved, newly found grandson, Benjamin 
 Marshall.' " 
 
 " Did she call me Marshall, grandmother ? " 
 
 " She did, my dear. She said l^cnjamin Marshall ; 
 and she said a deal more to me which I will tell }'ou 
 to-morrow. You had better go to bed now, love ; you 
 have had too much excitement to-day." 
 
 " I shall not sleep if I go to bed, grandmother," said 
 Ben, starting up and beginning to pace the room wildly. 
 " Did you ever dream that you were eating custard 
 apples, or hot-house grapes at six shillings a pound ? " 
 
 "No, my dear, I never dreamt anything of the sort;
 
 BENJAMIN MARSHALL'S FANCLES. 311 
 
 I don't remember that I ever saw a custard apple. 
 Your poor grandfather had a hot-house, as I have often 
 told you, and he grew lovely grapes too, as big as plums. 
 They were for sale, you know, for we could not afford 
 to eat them, though we have given your dear mother a 
 few, now and then, for a treat. But what whimsical 
 questions you ask me, Ben ! Do be rational, there's a 
 dear boy ! " 
 
 " I can't be rational, grandmother. I have all sorts 
 of uncommon fancies in my brain, flighty as diamond 
 sparrows and skylarks. Ha, ha ! did you ever imagine 
 you were riding on an emu, faster than the * Flying 
 Scotchman ' express train, that you travelled by to-day ? " 
 
 " Oh dear me, Ben ! you quite alarm me ! Whatever 
 ails you, my love } I never heard you go on in this 
 strange way before." 
 
 " You never before saw me rolling in riches, or swim- 
 ming in Nabob sauce. Ha, ha ! What will my darling 
 Annie and her mother say to it, when the wonderfully 
 pleasing news gets to Carlton Cottage 1 Why don't 
 you laugh, grandmother } " 
 
 " I am too weary to laugh to-night, Ben, but I shall 
 soon cry if you don't getback to your right senses. Who 
 is your darling Annie, as you call her ? " 
 
 " Annie Blake. The most charming girl on the other 
 side of the world — indeed, I never saw a girl anywhere 
 that I thought was equal to her, except Edith. Ha, ha ! 
 How strangely romantic that my darling sister should be 
 the only exception ! Do you know, grandmother, I was 
 in love with Edith at first sight, months ago ! It is a 
 living fact. I thought she was superior to a mere clay 
 mortal, and I almost adored her. Of course I didn't 
 know that she was my sister. Won't it be fun to tell 
 her all about it ? Only think ! I can love Edith now
 
 312 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 as much as I like, without making my dear Annie 
 jealous ! What a glory it will be for me to walk the 
 streets with two handsome girls beside me ! how all the 
 young fellows will envy me! I must be off to Melbourne 
 again next week and marry Annie, and then bring her 
 home to see my charming sister. Hurrah ! I'll give new 
 hats and bonnets to all the beggars in Melbourne, on my 
 wedding-day ; and I'll bribe somebody to ring the big 
 fire bell in Collins Street ; and all the black fellows in 
 the land, dressed in red blankets, shall dance a grand 
 corroboree on the bank of the beautiful Yarra Yarra. 
 Ha, ha ! I wish they were at it just now ! " 
 
 " Oh Ben, my love ! do let me beg and entreat of you 
 to go to bed. You are over-excited at the good news 
 you have heard to-day, and I am sure it will injure your 
 brain if you are not careful. Do go to your room, there's 
 a dear boy. You'll wake up every one in the house it 
 you continue to make this noise. You shall laugh and 
 shout and dance as much as you like to-morrow, and I 
 won't say nay to it." 
 
 " I tell you again that I shall not sleep a wink to- 
 night, grandmother. But I don't want to keep you up 
 any longer, and I wish you to go to bed. I must write a 
 letter to Frank Shorter. Poor old fellow ! how joyful he 
 will be to hear of my rare good fortune ! I'll tell him 
 that the celebrated big Bcndigo gold nugget is a nutshell 
 compared with the heaps of nuggets that I have found, 
 already dug up for me, enough to ballast a little brig. 
 Ah, yes, you are right, grandmother, I ought to show 
 respect for dear old Mrs. Marshall, for giving me all 
 my wealth ; and she was my other grandmother too. It 
 would only be right to mourn for her, but I don't seem 
 to be able to do it to-night. Ha, ha ! It wouldn't be 
 natural to weep when I can't help laughing."
 
 ' ' / CAN' T HELP BEING JOLL K" 313 
 
 " I wish you could help laughhig, my dear, for it does 
 not sound at all like rational mirth. It is nervous ex- 
 citement, and I can see is doing you mischief. You 
 have been unnaturally excited all the evening." 
 
 " It is such a marvellous change for me all at once, 
 like the transformation scene in the pantomine that you 
 once took me to see, when the blind beggar was turned 
 into a king. Ha, ha ! Only fancy, granny dear ! Your 
 poor boy Ben, the jobbing hat-box maker, and after- 
 wards a greasy cook in an old schooner, suddenly be- 
 coming the owner of Newby Hall, and two coal mines, 
 and lots of other valuable property ; besides, perhaps, a 
 barrowful of ready money in the bank. Isn't all that 
 enough to excite any poor young fellow, who isn't daft .'' 
 Ha, ha ! I can't help being jolly. Now, grandmother, 
 do have a little more patience and sympathy. Sit down 
 again for a few minutes, and I'll sing you something 
 touchingly appropriate to my happy condition. I have 
 never heard it sung yet, and I don't think there is a 
 special tune made for it ; but never mind, I'll sing it to 
 your favourite old Scotch song, ' The Bonnets o' blue.' 
 Listen, granny ! — 
 
 " I am monarch of all I sun-cy ; 
 
 My right there is none to dispute ; 
 
 From the centre 
 
 " Stop ! stop, Ben ! For pity's sake, be quiet ! That 
 big footman will be running in here directly, without 
 his livery, to see what all this uproar is about ; and how 
 shocked he will be to see his new master behaving in 
 such a fantastic manner, when he ought to be mourn- 
 ins: for the loss of his late kind relative. We are almost 
 strangers to the servants, and I shouldn't like them to 
 think we are heathens."
 
 314 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 Those emphatic words had a subdunig influence on 
 Ben. He sat down, and for several minutes he was 
 mute, while his grandmother continued, with increased 
 seriousness, to express her mind to him. "Ben, my 
 love ! I tell you solemnly, you must pray for Divine 
 guidance in your present critical circumstances. It is 
 said, and I believe it is true, that sudden affluence is 
 sometimes harder to bear than sudden poverty. Excuse 
 me, my dear, for speaking so plainly, but I think you 
 have forgotten to apply to-day to the true source of 
 comfort, and the only sure way to calm the mind under 
 violent excitement of any kind. We always flee to God 
 to help us when we are in trouble ; but there is equal 
 need for us to seek Him when all around us seems 
 flourishing. Solomon said, ' In the day of adversity 
 consider ' — yes, and no one knew better than the wise 
 king himself that the time of prosperity was one of 
 danger. I too have proved that fact in my own humble 
 experience. When I was in my little shop at Hackney, 
 living from hand to mouth, as the saying is, and beset 
 by influences of a most depressing kind, I used to pray 
 earnestly for help and comfort. Every morning, on my 
 knees, I prayed, ' O Lord, give me strength for this day's 
 duties or its trials. Give me bread and peace, and a 
 contented heart. Teach me Thy way, and lead me in 
 a plain path,' And I used to try to stay my mind on 
 some of the sustaining promises in God's word — hun- 
 dreds of which I have stored in my memory. Often I 
 have gratefully exclaimed, * O Lord, in the multitude of 
 my thoughts within me, Thy comforts delight my soul.' 
 And truly I had sometimes a multitude of perplexing 
 thoughts in my poor heart, and I was surrounded by a 
 host of foes ; but I could say, ' The Lord is my defence, 
 and my God is the rock of my refuge.' That was some
 
 SERIOUS REFLECTIONS. ■ 315 
 
 of my daily experience in the time of my poverty. But 
 after the unexpected good turn in my fortune, — and dear 
 Mrs. Marshall kindly left me an annuity, as I have 
 already told you, Ben, more than sufficient for all my 
 wants, — I seemed for awhile to be, as it were, independent 
 of the God of my mercies. Yes, dear, with shame I 
 confess it, I was less earnest in my supplication for 
 Divine help, and I seemed to have more faith in my 
 fixed income to supply my wants, and in the influence 
 of my money and my newly found rich friends, to stop 
 unruly neighbours from molesting me, as they often 
 used to do when they knew that I was poor. But I am 
 thankful to say the deceitfulness of riches did not cause 
 my downfall. It was only a temporary declension, and I 
 hope I am now as humble as ever I was. The Lord has 
 dealt very bountifully with us, Ben ; but we must ever 
 remember that He has power to take away our riches. 
 I am thankful that you have listened to mc so patiently, 
 love." 
 
 "All that you say is quite true, grandmother," said 
 Ben tenderly. " I feel grieved that I have given way 
 to extravagant words and gestures, instead of showing 
 becoming humility and gratitude to the bountiful Giver 
 of all our mercies ; but my brain has been in such a 
 whirl all day, that I have hardly been master of my 
 actions. I thank you for your timely words of reproof, 
 and also of Christian counsel : they have done my heart 
 good, and I shall try to [remember them. Now you go 
 to bed, dear grandmother," he added, and he kissed her 
 affectionately. " I am sure you must be weary. I will 
 have a little quiet meditation and prayer by myself 
 before I retire." 
 
 Grandmother Bruce's experience of the deceitfulness 
 of riches was not a new one: it has been experienced by
 
 3i6 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 J 
 
 wealthy men and women in all ages. Ben being fore- 
 warned by the admonitory words of his anxious relative, 
 was doubtless saved from many extravagances which 
 would have been a trouble to him. Self-examination is 
 a profitable exercise for every man ; and Divine grace 
 is needful for guidance in every condition of life, but 
 especially so in such a peculiar position as Ben was 
 suddenly placed. When he retired to his bedroom, 
 about three hours afterwards, his mind was quite com- 
 posed, and he felt strengthened for the duties and re- 
 sponsibilities of his new station.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the best, 
 Welcome the coming, speed the going guest." 
 
 —Pope. 
 
 When Frank Shorter received Ben's letter apprising 
 him of his sudden change of fortune, he was not so much 
 astonished at it as might be supposed, for he had felt a 
 sort of presentiment that some uncommon good luck 
 was about to overtake his young shipmate. But he was 
 rather concerned at the- incoherent style of the letter, for 
 Ben wrote it overnight, before his mind had become 
 composed, and the kind old sailor muttered to himself 
 as he read it, " Poor Ben ! I can see that you have not 
 moral ballast enough on board for this sudden breeze of 
 fortune that has come up to you. I don't believe you 
 will capsize altogether, but you had better furl all your 
 light sails and mind how you steer, for you are in a 
 squally latitude just now, and may be you don't know it. 
 It is very kind of you to give me such a hearty invitation' 
 to your grand home, and I'll be off directly, for I know I 
 shall be welcome, and perhaps I may be a help to you." 
 Frank's application for leave of absence was granted, 
 
 and soon he was on the way to S , When he 
 
 arrived at Newby Hall, Ben was in busy conference with 
 
 Mr, Mead and the executors of Mrs. Marshall's will ; but 
 
 • Mrs. Bruce received him, and her greeting was as homely 
 
 as it was when she first shook hands with him across the 
 
 3»7
 
 3i8 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 counter of her little shop in London. Frank knew that 
 she was glad to see him. She first of all got him some 
 refreshment, which he needed after his long journey, and 
 then she gave him a full account of her grandson's 
 affairs, and was just finishing her glowing narration, 
 when Ben entered the room, and saluted his old friend 
 with a cordiality which touched his heart. He grasped 
 Ben's hand and said, " Bless you, my boy ! I see your 
 great lift up to fortune has not altered your bearing to- 
 wards your poor old messmate." 
 
 "If you had come here two days ago, Frank, you 
 might have fancied that my fortune was going to turn 
 my brain ; but I am thankful to say that it is now as 
 rational as ever it was, and I can bear my elevation 
 almost as composedly as you could sit on a topsail yard- 
 arm in a hard breeze of wind. I need not tell you the 
 means I used to get my mind quieted down, Frank. 
 You know that earnest prayer will calm down a ruffled 
 spirit like oil on breaking waves. Now I am sure my 
 good grandmother will excuse us leaving her for a while; 
 so come with me, Frank, I want to have a little confi- 
 dential chat with you. Wc shall see you again by-and- 
 by, grandmother. Frank will not go away for a few 
 days, I hope." 
 
 " Now sit down in that soft arm-chair and make your- 
 self at home, Frank," said Ben, when they entered the 
 library. " You see I have plenty of reading when I can 
 find time to sit down here quietly and enjoy myself" 
 
 " My word, you have a lot of books ! quite a cargo ! " 
 replied Frank, gazing around at the' thousands of well- 
 bound volumes which loaded the shelves ; and for a few 
 minutes he seemed to be struck dumb with wonder and 
 veneration. He had never seen so many books before, 
 except in the Melbourne Free Library.
 
 OLD MESSMATES. 319 
 
 " I am afraid something is ailing you," Ben presently- 
 remarked, with an anxious look at Frank's face. " Can 
 I get you anything in the shape of physic ? I have a 
 medicine chest big enough for an emigrant ship." 
 . " No, thank you, I don't want physic. I am hearty 
 enough. I am a little taken aback, or flurried, since I 
 came into this grand house, that's all ; and I hardly know 
 how to speak to the master of it. Perhaps I shall get 
 over these qualms presently." 
 
 " I understand a little how you feel, Frank ; and now 
 let me tell you that my sudden rise to fortune has not 
 altered my feelings towards you in the least degree," 
 said Ben, and he again shook hands with his old friend, 
 and bade him try to throw off his diffidence, which would 
 tend to make their intercourse embarrassing. " I am 
 Ben still, and you are my trusty friend, Frank. I am 
 really glad to see you, and I wish you to feel yourself at 
 home in my house." 
 
 "Ay, you are as staunch as ever, Ben, and it does my 
 heart good to see it. Wealth doesn't alter us in one way 
 — rich or poor, * a man's a man for a' that,' as the song 
 says. But wealth changes a man's position in the world, 
 there is no doubt about that ; and it is always right and 
 proper for him to keep his standing — in fact, he must do 
 so. The captain of a frigate wouldn't be much unlike 
 either of his crew if the ship were to go down and leave 
 all hands swimming for their lives ; there would be no 
 standing on his dignity then ; but while the ship is afloat, 
 the quarter-deck is the captain's post, and the forecastle 
 is the place for common sailors. You see Avhat I 
 mean .-* " 
 
 " Not exactly, Frank." 
 
 " Well, this is it, in plain words : you arc now a gentle- 
 man of fortune, and I am only a rough old seaman,
 
 320 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 though I have risen to a second mate's rank. When I 
 was here a few months ago, I messed with the servants 
 in their part of the house, and was on famiHar terms with 
 them, for they are a nice kindly lot. I shook hands 
 with them all when I arrived here this morning, and I 
 didn't object to it in the least — why should I t But after 
 that it wouldn't look well for them to see me hobnobbing 
 with you, and calling you Ben, or shipmate, as I have 
 been accustomed to do, for it would most likely lessen 
 their respect for you, and perhaps they might begin to 
 be too familiar, which would not be exactly the right 
 thing. You have a rare big ship to navigate now, my 
 friend, and you must keep up good discipline among 
 your crew, or you will soon have disorder and perhaps 
 mutiny on board. However familiarly you may please 
 to talk with me now we are down below, as it were, I 
 had better keep a respectful distance from you when we 
 are on deck, and all hands arc looking at us. I am sure 
 you can see the common-sense of my remarks, Ben. 
 You have been long enough on shipboard to know the 
 respect that is due to the captain." 
 
 " We will not argue out that knotty point to-day, " 
 Frank ; .we arc not on deck at present, so let us chat in 
 the old free and easy style, or it may confuse us both. 
 I want your advice on a very tender subject. I have just 
 had a long talk with my business men, and they say it is 
 impossible for me to leave England for several months 
 to come, as there arc many important matters relating 
 to the estate that need looking to, and I must be on the 
 spot. I own that they are quite right, but it is a sore 
 disappointment to me. I want to go to Melbourne to 
 marry my dear Annie, and fetch her home to keep my . 
 house ; but you see it is uncertain when I may be able 
 to go. What shall I do, Frank. ^ How shall I get the
 
 FA\-LYA'S COiMMISSIOiV. 321 
 
 dear girl here ? That's the question I want you to help 
 me to solve. You have often helped me with your 
 counsel, and I specially need it now." 
 
 Frank sat for a few minutes rubbing his beard in a 
 cogitating mood. Presently he said, "If you cannot go 
 for Miss Blake, I don't know who would go more will- 
 ingly than myself, and I am sure you can trust me on 
 the errand. Here I am at your service, Ben ; give the 
 word of command, and I'll start off as soon as you like. 
 I did mean to stay and try for a master's certificate, but 
 that's no odds ; I can wait for it till I come back ; and 
 perhaps I shall be a little wiser by that time, and have a 
 better chance of passing my examination. I am sure 
 Mrs. Blake would never let the girl come over the sea 
 alone, but I daresay she won't have any fear of trusting 
 her with me, if you write and explain everything; and I 
 shall be as proud of the commission as a young middy 
 who is just put in command of a prize sloop." 
 
 " Thank you, Frank. It is the very plan I was going 
 to propose to you, for I cannot see any other way of 
 managing the delicate business. Mrs. Blake has full con- 
 fidence in you, I know, and when she understands how I 
 am situated, I think she will not object to let Annie come 
 to England with you. When can you leave your ship ? " 
 
 "To-morrow, if I like. My time is up." 
 
 " Then I wish you to leave, Frank ; and consider that 
 you are in my service, if you don't object to serve me. 
 Now, please to stop a bit and hear what I have to say, 
 and don't be so independent all at once. I know very 
 well that you have no selfish motive in offering yourself; 
 you arc anxious to oblige me, and I am able and willing 
 to pay you. If I could not afford it, I might be glad of 
 your free services. I will pay your expenses, and give 
 you five hundred pounds besides." 
 
 Y
 
 322 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " Oh ! that's too much altogether, Ben. My old head 
 would perhaps be upset if I had such a lot of money 
 without working for it." 
 
 " No fear of that, Frank. You know as well as I do 
 the way to keep your mind steadily balanced in pros- 
 perity as well as in adversity. As to the sum I offer you, 
 it is a mere trifle to me. I have more ready money now 
 in the bank than I could spend on myself in seven years. 
 Besides, it is only fair that I should pay you liberally, 
 for haven't you helped me to get my fortune .-* Yes, yes, 
 you have, Frank, and I don't forget it — it would be 
 shabby if I did. You know that my happiness is con- 
 cerned in your bringing dear Annie home to me as 
 speedily as possible." 
 
 " You may depend I won't waste much time. Your 
 dear old grandmother is expecting me to stay here a few 
 days, and it would be a real treat to me to take some 
 quiet rambles over your fine park and the woods be- 
 yond ; but * duty first and pleasure afterwards ' shall be 
 my motto from this day forward. How had I better go 
 to Melbourne, do you think, Ben ? " 
 
 " Go in the fastest steamer you can find, and go as a 
 first-class passenger, of course. Remember that I shall 
 cheerfully pay every shilling of your outlay. You will 
 not waste money, I know, but you need not be over 
 sparing ; and don't be afraid to dip your hand into 
 your pocket on my account, whenever you come across 
 a case of real distress, either at sea or on shore." 
 
 After an hour or two of further discussion on the 
 details of the important mission Frank was about to 
 undertake, it was decided that he should go to Mel- 
 bourne by the next Suez mail steamer. Mrs. Bruce was 
 exceedingly pressing that he should stay a few days 
 at the Hall; but without explaining to her his private
 
 FRANK DEPARTS TO MELBOURNE. 323 
 
 business, Frank said he could not spare the time at pre- 
 sent, for he had to get ready for sea. 
 
 "What, going to sea again so soon, Mr. Shorter.^" 
 asked grandmother, with some little show of vexation 
 that he should seem to slight an invitation to stay for a 
 while in her grandson's fine mansion ; besides, she had 
 such a lot of news that she was longing to pour into the 
 ears of some confidential friend. 
 
 " Yes, I must go afloat again, ma'am, much as I would 
 like to stay in this beautiful new home of yours." 
 
 " Well, well, sailors have strange fancies, certainly," 
 continued Mrs. Bruce, in a softened tone. " I just now 
 remember a poor little woman who, long ago, was a 
 regular customer at my shop in Back Street ; her hus- 
 band was a ship carpenter, and he had been voyaging in 
 one ship to India for more than twelve years, so you see 
 she did not have much of his company. But he was a 
 good, steady man for all that ; and she always drew half 
 of his wages while he was at sea, and when he came back 
 again he usually took the other half home to her, which 
 was quite right and honest of him." 
 
 "Pray excuse me for interrupting you, dear grand- 
 mother, but Frank is rather pressed for time ; he wants 
 to catch the next express train for London," gently 
 suggested Ben, who was afraid his grandmother was 
 beginning one of her long stories, and he knew that 
 Frank was rather impatient. 
 
 " I will not detain Mr. Shorter, my dear, if he wishes 
 to go ; but what I was going to say about the whimsical 
 ship carpenter is simply this : whenever his vessel lay in 
 the London docks, unloading or loading, he used to sleep 
 on board, in his ' old bunk,' as he called it, though he 
 had a nice comfortable little home on shore, and a kind, 
 tidy wife. I believed he loved his wife too ; but he used
 
 324 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 to say that he could not sleep nicely out of his bunk, 
 although I was told it was a poky sort of coffin affair, 
 not much more than five feet long, and he was a big 
 boned man, taller than you, Ben." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! every man to his fancy ! " laughed Frank. 
 " But I'll promise you, grandmother, that if I ever have 
 the luck to get a snug crib of my own on shore — wife or 
 no wife — I'll sleep in it, and let any simple fellow who 
 likes have my bunk on shipboard." 
 
 About three days afterwards, Frank started for Mel- 
 bourne, taking with him many handsome presents and 
 love letters for Annie, and an affectionate letter from Ben 
 to Mrs. Blake, offering her a home at Newby Hall as 
 long as she lived, or if she preferred it, a separate home 
 in the neighbourhood, if she would return to England 
 with her daughter.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 " Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue, . 
 But, like a shadow, prove the substance true." 
 
 —Pope. 
 
 Although Ben possessed more wealth than he had 
 yet found time to calculate, and was surrounded by 
 luxuries of all sorts, he was not wholly free from 
 petty cares and anxiety ; not the least of which was 
 the trouble he had to induce his grandmother to show a 
 little more becoming dignity of manner than she used 
 to show when in her shop at Hackney. She could not 
 be persuaded to keep out of the servants' quarters at the 
 Hall, indeed, she liked that part of the house better than 
 any other. In her free intercourse with the domestics 
 she heard all the stirring news of the neighbourhood, 
 including a good deal of scurrilous gossip about her 
 grandson, which she felt it was her duty to tell him, 
 in order, as she said, that he might instruct his lawyer 
 to put a stop to it immediately. The honest old lady 
 had a much higher estimate of the powers of lawyers 
 than some of the learned gentlemen have of themselves ; 
 and she thought that Ben's wealth ought to be a sort of 
 impenetrable hedge around his reputation, to shelter him 
 from the attacks of vulgar tongues. His past experience 
 had been confined to the humbler walks of civilized life, 
 and he met with harassing opposition there, as I have 
 cursorily shown ; but he had yet to learn that envy and 
 
 325
 
 326 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 uncharitableness are active in the ranks of the rich as 
 well as among the poor. 
 
 Ben adopted the name of Marshall, as it was his late 
 grandmother's expressed wish that he should do so, and 
 that caused much surprise amongst the neighbours. His 
 pedigree was investigated, and his personal qualities were 
 discussed, and opinions formed thereon as unfavourable 
 to him as if he were a returned convict from some penal 
 settlement, or a real London black-leg. Reports also, as 
 false as they were cruel, respecting his future designs 
 for managing his estate, got into circulation and caused 
 quite a panic among his tenantry. Ben had been re- 
 ported, by some mischief-maker, to be intent on raising 
 the rents of his farms, and that he would decrease or 
 wholly discontinue the allowance to several old villagers, 
 who had for years been pensioners on the bounty of the 
 late Mrs. Marshall ; and he had the mortification of 
 observing wherever he went that he was an object of 
 distrust or aversion to the farmers and the labouring 
 people, while the gentry around treated him with a 
 coolness which almost reached contempt. He was not 
 sorry that the fashionable folks kept aloof from him, he 
 had hardly expected any familiar notice from them, but 
 he was grieved to see that he was so much misunder- 
 stood by his tenants and others, whom he was desirous 
 of benefiting in every way he could. For a while his 
 mind was constantly exercised in forming plans for 
 making everybody understand his true character, but 
 he had to give that up as a hopeless task. As well 
 might he have tried to make every one appreciate pure 
 air and cleanliness, or any other great social virtue. 
 
 The Rector of the parish was an excellent old gentle- 
 man, who had known the Marshall family for fifty years 
 or more. He called at the Hall the day after Ben ar-
 
 THE RECTOR. 327 
 
 rived, and had a long conversation with him, and seemed 
 pleased to find that his new parishioner was a Christian 
 gentleman, although he had not much fashionable polish 
 about him. The Rector had promised the late Mrs. Mar- 
 shall that he would visit her grandson, Mr. Marshall, as 
 often as practicable, and would help him with his counsel 
 whenever he needed it. The subsequent visits of his 
 reverence to Newby Hall were frequent ; and although 
 he did not obtrude his opinions at any time, he showed 
 a willingness to advise Ben upon anything that he pro- 
 posed, either secular or spiritual. He soon gained Ben's 
 confidence and affection, and he often opened his mind 
 freely to his kind pastor. 
 
 "Fret not thyself in any wise to do evil," said the 
 peace-loving Rector, in his usual calm way, when Ben 
 one day peevishly expressed his determination to take 
 legal proceedings against some of his most active detrac- 
 tors. "All the appliances of the law cannot wholly 
 restrain the tongue of slander, and every one is liable 
 to be assailed by it, from our gracious Queen on the 
 throne to her humblest subject. Bear it patiently, my 
 dear young friend ! That is the safest way, because it 
 accords with the precept and example of Him whom 
 you profess to love and serve — Jesus, the Prince ot 
 peace. I can sympathise with you. I am sure it must 
 be hard for you to bear the ill-natured reports of the 
 villagers, and the cutting philippics of some of the 
 neighbouring gentry, who certainly ought to have more 
 sense and good feeling ; but to live it all down is your 
 best policy. You will be more respected as you become 
 better known." 
 
 " I can assure you, sir, most of the reports against me 
 are quite untrue." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it, Mr. IMarshall ; but that is so
 
 328 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 much the better for you, and there is really less reason 
 for you to fret about them. You might well be grieved 
 if you were conscious that the reports were true. Your 
 slanderers may declare that you are dishonourable or 
 what not, but they cannot make you so if you resolve to 
 be otherwise. In the course of my long experience of 
 the world, I have never yet met with a man or woman 
 in any walk of life who has wholly escaped the stings of 
 envy and slander ; and, perhaps, the higher their rank 
 or station, the more vehemently they are assailed. His- 
 tory in all times confirms my statement. Some of the 
 holiest living divines — men who are 'burning and shin- 
 ing lights' of the age, have been, and perhaps are still, 
 vilely abused and misrepresented ; and it is not to be 
 marvelled at, for ' if they have called the ]\Iaster of the 
 house Beelzebub, how much more shall they call them 
 of His household.'" Great literary men, too, rarely es- 
 cape censure. Some, whose writings are certainly not 
 of a polemical character — Sir Walter Scott, for example 
 (than whom few authors have contributed more to the 
 popular amusement) — suffered at times from very sharp 
 criticism. I daresay you have in your fine collection of 
 books that beautiful poem, ' The Lady of the Lake,' 
 and if you will at your leisure look at Sir Walter's pre- 
 face to it, you may be amused at some of his pungent 
 remarks to his detractors. I rather wonder that he 
 troubled himself even thus far to notice them," added 
 the Rector, smiling ; " but I have alluded to the subject 
 merely to show you that, exalted as he was, and useful 
 as he undoubtedly was, he had his enemies as well as 
 you have, but he lived down all their opposition, and he 
 has left a name that will, perhaps, be honoured as long 
 as the world stands. Again, then, I would kindly say 
 to you, Mr. Marshall, have patience with your envious
 
 BEN'S TRIBULATIONS. 329 
 
 foes, and you may in time make friends of them ; but if 
 not, be assured that their malice cannot harm you any 
 more than the shadow of a passing coach could knock 
 you down." 
 
 Ben was much comforted by his esteemed pastor's 
 gentle counsel, and he resolved to follow it At another 
 visit of the Rector, Ben consulted him on the course of 
 study to pursue in order to improve his limited educa- 
 tion. " Mr. Mead is willing to continue the management 
 of the estate for a while," continued Ben, "and I think 
 it is very desirable that he should do so until I get more 
 experience, and understand my tenants better than I 
 do at present. In the meanwhile I will endeavour to 
 qualify myself for my improved position, and for in- 
 creased usefulness in the world." Ben further explained 
 that he had begun a course of self-education on ship- 
 board, but he thought it, perhaps, was not a course 
 that was the most advisable for him under his altered 
 circumstances. He wished to make the best use of 
 his time. 
 
 The Rector commended him for his good judgment, 
 and said he knew of many useful books, that he had 
 often recommended to young men who were desirous 
 of improving their minds — a list of which he would 
 carefully write out ; but he thought that as money 
 was not an object with Ben, and he had ample leisure, 
 he had better engage a qualified tutor. " I am glad 
 you have asked my advice on this important subject, 
 Mr. Marshall," added the Rector, " as it gives mc an 
 opportunity for speaking a few words in behalf of a 
 worthy young friend of mine, who has just been obliged 
 to give up a curacy in one of our eastern counties on 
 account of a temporary indisposition, caused, no doubt, 
 by over-work. He has been advised by his doctor to
 
 330 /.V THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 try a change for a time to a higher locality, and this 
 place would suit him admirably. I think he would be 
 willing to direct your studies in return for a quiet home 
 at the Hall — but I need not say anything about terms, 
 you will act fairly, I know. You have rooms to spare, 
 and you will find my friend, Mr. Mosely, an acquisition 
 to your home circle. I shall be pleased, indeed, to have 
 him for a neighbour." 
 
 Ben's glad looks showed how much he approved of 
 the suggestion. After some discussion on the subject, 
 the Rector kindly offered to write to his friend and 
 ascertain if he was willing to make the desired ar- 
 rangement. 
 
 " I think, sir, I had perhaps better consult my sister 
 before I decide. Edith is my housekeeper ; and she 
 may possibly object to take a young gentleman — a 
 stranger — into our family circle." 
 
 "True, true, Mr. Marshall; I admire your brotherly 
 consideration. I had forgotten that preliminary part of 
 the negotiations. Your dear sister is worthy of all the 
 consideration and affection you can show her. I have 
 known her from her infancy, and to know her is to love 
 her. She has a very refined mind, and is highly accom- 
 plished and clever, as you must know ; but above all she 
 is a devoted and consistent Christian. I would advise 
 you to make her your confidante in all your affairs. 
 Consult her in this matter of the choice of a tutor ; and 
 when you have arrived at a decision you can come and 
 tell me. I may just say — and you can tell Edith — that 
 I know Mr. Mosely intimately, and his late father was 
 one of my most valued friends at college. If you should 
 receive him as an inmate at the Hall, you will find that 
 he is intelligent, though unobtrusive ; in short, he is a 
 Christian gentleman, and an earnest, hard-working
 
 THE RECTOR'S SUGGESTION. 331 
 
 minister of the gospel. He is also a scholar, and 
 well qualified as a tutor," 
 
 After the good Rector had departed, Ben told Edith 
 all the particulars of their interview ; and he was not a 
 little amused at her surprised look when he explained 
 his wish to engage the Rev. Mr. Mosely as his private 
 tutor. She sat for some time in thoughtful silence, and 
 then she said, " I am sure our dear Rector would not 
 recommend any one to our home who was not worthy of 
 our confidence and hospitality. We don't know what 
 the young curate is like : he may be an oddity ; but 
 never mind, Ben dear, for your sake I will do all in 
 my power to make his stay at the Hall pleasant, so 
 you may send for his reverence as soon as you please ; 
 and I hope that under his tutorage you will turn out a 
 creditable pupil. I daresay grandma will take care that 
 he does not cane you too much." 
 
 "I thought you would favour my wishes and plans, 
 you little unselfish jewel!" said Ben, kissing Edith 
 fondly. "For your dear sake I will make the very 
 best use of my time with my tutor. I cannot but feel 
 my lack of good training, especially when I am with 
 you, and I shall try to remedy my defects in that way 
 as much as possible. I may never be as clever as you 
 are, Edie, but I will do my utmost to spare that loving 
 heart of yours from being pained by any gross exhibi- 
 tion of ignorance or boorishness on the part of your 
 newly-found brother." 
 
 " Pray don't talk in that way, Ben. You arc a gentle- 
 man, and I am very proud of you. Poor dear grandma 
 and I were struck with your nice deportment the first 
 time we saw you. Your deficiency in early tuition is to 
 be regretted certainly, but you arc wisely trying to im- 
 prove yourself, and I mean to help you in every way I
 
 332 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 can, so be of good courage. With two tutors you will 
 surely make fair progress towards perfection." 
 
 " Thank you, darling ! Your words are very encourag- 
 ing. I shall ask you for your help occasionally with my 
 lessons, I have often called to mind a sermon that I 
 heard from an honest lay preacher when I was staying 
 at the peaceful little town on the Hunter River that you 
 have heard me speak of, where the bush birds are always 
 singing, and many of the streets are covered with green 
 sward. His text was, 'Whatsoever a man soweth that 
 shall he also reap.' The preacher was a plain speaking 
 man, without any college training, and I daresay any one 
 who was listening for the mere sake of criticising might 
 have detected some slight flaws in his style ; but I was 
 too much interested in the discourse to notice unimpor- 
 tant trifles. He was a farmer, and he seemed to take 
 his hearers all over his ploughed fields and his flower 
 garden, and over his bush paddocks, too, for apt illustra- 
 tions and metaphors, of which he had no lack. One of 
 his concluding sentences I specially remember. He said, 
 with impressive earnestness, ' Oh that every man would 
 pause for a few minutes and ask himself the solemn 
 questions. Where shall I be a few years hence? And 
 what am I now doing that will )aeld an influence for 
 good in the world after I have left it?' Those simple 
 words made a lasting impression on me. I often think 
 of them. In my quiet hours on ship-board I have some- 
 times pondered over the widespread mischief some men 
 are causing in the world with their money and their 
 influence, and how little good, apparently, they ^re 
 seeking to effect with it ; and then I have half-drowsily 
 defined many philanthropic schemes that I would carry 
 out if I had riches. Of course I then had no idea that a 
 large fortune was almost within my grasp. I5ut now
 
 PLANS AND PROJECTS. m 
 
 that it is a reality — that I am wealthy — I mean to prac- 
 tically work out some of the plans that I concocted when 
 I thought I was merely building castles in the air. What 
 do you say to my plans and projects, sister? Give me 
 your valuable opinion." 
 
 Edith put her arms lovingly round his neck, and with 
 tears of joy in her beautiful eyes, she said, " My dear 
 Ben ! I am glad to hear you talk in this Christian-like, 
 sensible way. I shall be proud to help you carry out 
 your benevolent designs with all my heart — yes, and 
 with all my money, too ; you know, I am almost as rich 
 as you are, though I don't deserve half as much." 
 
 The good Rector lost no time in communicating with 
 Mr. Mosely, apprising him of the rare opportunity that 
 offered for his getting the change that his health so 
 much needed, and urging him to come to Nevvby Hall 
 forthwith. But the curate was evidently of a cautious 
 turn, and he did not fancy taking a long journey before 
 knowing what he was going for — which was quite right. 
 A correspondence, extending over a fortnight, ensued 
 between Ben and him before he fully decided to move. 
 He afterwards explained that a drsinclination to leave 
 his loving, rustic flock at Bardlcy was the cause of his 
 tardiness. Many of his parishioners, he said, were agri- 
 cultural labourers — perhaps the poorest class of toilers 
 in England — yet there were some amongst them who 
 were Nature's noblemen, and he loved them for their 
 real honesty of heart and life. 
 
 " Let not ambition mock their useful toil, 
 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 
 Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 
 The short and simple annals of the poor."
 
 334 ^^ THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 At length the wished-for arrangement was made, and 
 the day came when Mr. Mosely was expected to arrive 
 at Newby Hall. Ben had gone in his carriage to meet 
 him at the railway-station, and Edith was waiting be- 
 hind one of the drawing-room blinds, with a very 
 natural womanish curiosity to see what sort of a look- 
 ing man their new guest was. She had not dared to 
 ask the Rector any questions about him — whether he 
 was tall and thin, or short and stout, bearded or shaven ; 
 whether he was talkative or taciturn, lively or demure. 
 Of course she could not think of asking such questions, 
 though she would like to know. She had pictured him 
 in a variety of phases ; and it's not at all to be wondered 
 at if she felt a little anxious about his general bearing 
 or disposition, considering that he was to be a perma- 
 nent inmate of the house — a member of the family circle. 
 Her mind was much relieved when, from her peeping- 
 place, she saw, after the carriage door was opened, a tall, 
 clerically dressed gentleman alight, closely followed by 
 her brother; and as the two stood side by side for a 
 moment, she thought that as far as their figures were 
 concerned they might readily be taken for cousins, if 
 not for brothers. Ben had, perhaps, the best looking 
 face, because it was a more healthy colour, but the curate 
 had the longest beard, and it Avas of a darker shade of 
 brown than Ben's. Altogether he was a striking looking 
 young gentleman, and not at all like some of the odd 
 figures her fancy had conjured up. She was pleased. 
 
 When introduced by Ben to Edith, Mr. Mosely was 
 modestly polite. At luncheon, which was just ready, he 
 showed the easy deportment of a gentleman who was 
 accustomed to refined society ; he was affable and mod- 
 erately cheerful, but not over-talkative — as some young 
 men are, who seem anxious to tell all they know in an
 
 A NEW ARRIVAL. 335 
 
 hour or two. After lunch Ben showed his guest the 
 suite of rooms that had been prepared for him in the 
 south-western wing of the mansion, at which he seemed 
 highly pleased. Doubtless he estimated the gladdening 
 contrast between his present palatial home and his late 
 lodging place in an isolated old farmhouse (which had 
 the fame of being haunted), and with a ploughman's 
 wife for his sole attendant. But Ben's library seemed 
 to be the most attractive place to his reverence ; and his 
 dark eyes flashed along the numerous well-packed book- 
 shelves with as much interest as a Fijian chief would 
 display when gazing at the heaps of golden coin in the 
 treasure vaults of the Bank of England, or the Royal 
 Mint. Mr. Mosely was almost a bibliomaniac. 
 
 The next day Ben began to devote himself in earnest 
 to the course of study which his tutor proposed for him. 
 It seemed as formidable as his first effort at climbing to 
 the main-skysail yard on board the Bluejacket, but he 
 manfully resolved that mount up he would.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 '■' And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, 
 The maiden herself will steal after it soon." 
 
 — Moore. 
 
 When Frank returned to London he got his discharge 
 from his ship without any delay, and then he began to 
 get ready to start on the mission he had undertaken for 
 his friend Ben, Foremost of his preparations, he went 
 to a respectable tailor, and for the first time in his life 
 he submitted to be measured with a tape-line. He had 
 heretofore worn slop clothing, as careless sailors usually 
 do ; but as his circumstances had so much improved, 
 and he was entrusted by his wealthy friend with so impor- 
 tant an errand, he thought he should only be showing 
 due respect to all persons concerned, by appearing in 
 a becoming garb. He had another reason for making 
 himself look as smart as possible, though it was a secret 
 only known to himself. It had occurred to him in one 
 of his ruminating seasons, that he might happily induce 
 Widow Blake to return to England with her daughter, 
 not as a widow, but as his wife. The idea was en- 
 couraging to his latent vanity, and prompted him to 
 doff his re ugh nautical attire, for garments of cut and 
 quality, which showed his manly figure to the best 
 advantage ; and when he appeared on board the mail 
 steamer, he was almost as genteelly dressed as the 
 
 proudest Indian civilian on the passenger list. The 
 
 336
 
 RIGGED OUT AFRESH. 337 
 
 marked respect his new clothes gahied for him was 
 amusing ; and he muttered- to himself one day, as he 
 was having a quiet walk on the main deck : " Sailors 
 often laugh at tailors as if they were mere dummies in 
 the world ; but that is a mistake, which I can see more 
 plainly than I ever saw before. They may not be so 
 handy on a topsail-yard as they are with a yard stick, 
 but for all that, tailors are mighty men in their way, 
 and their influence on society in general is often 
 greater ihan parsons, or statesmen, or learned doctors. 
 It is as clear as moonlight to me, that if I had not been 
 rigged out by a first-rate tailor, that proud-looking 
 planter from Ceylon would no more have chatted with 
 me at tiffin to-day, about growing coffee and nutmegs, 
 than he Vv'ould condescend to smoke a pipe with the 
 cook in his galley yonder. Ha, ha ! what a telling 
 difference there is to the wearer, between a superfine cut 
 surtout coat, and a slop-made monkey jacket, although 
 they may both have been spun from wool grown on the 
 same sheep station, and perhaps sent to market in the 
 same ship." 
 
 When Frank landed in Melbourne, dressed in his 
 smart clothes and a glossy silk hat, and with gloves on 
 his hands, his old shipmates would not have known him ; 
 but he was not sorry on that account. Owing to his 
 reformed habits of strict sobriety, his complexion had 
 wonderfully improved, and he had lost the puffy rubi- 
 cund look, which is one of the inevitable signs of hard 
 drinking. His face, though bronzed by exposure to the 
 weather, had a healthy hue, and his eyes were bright 
 and seemed always wide awake. His beard and whiskers 
 were trimmed with careful taste, and his erst shaggy 
 locks were closely clipped in modern style. Altogether 
 he was a smart-looking man, and wherf Mrs. Blake
 
 338 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 opened her door at his modest rat-tat, she was really 
 delighted to see him. Annie was glad, though her 
 heart secretly fluttered with anxiety, lest he should be 
 the bearer of some ill-tidings from her lover. 
 
 When the first warm greetings were over and a few 
 home subjects had been talked of very briefly, Frank 
 began to explain the special object he had in returning 
 to Melbourne so speedily. He had carefully studied his 
 task beforehand, so he set about it as deliberately as a 
 popular barrister opens his brief He knew it would 
 not be very easy to persuade Mrs, Blake to part with 
 her daughter, so he did not rashly say all he wished to 
 say in a few excited sentences. He was negotiating for 
 something more precious than the richest merchandise, 
 so he acted with becoming circumspection. He told 
 them of Ben's extraordinary good fortune, and inci- 
 dentally described his grand mansion, and the park and 
 gardens and other charming surroundings, and at the 
 same time he was watching the eftect of his report on 
 his attentive hearers, Mrs. Blake's frequent sighs were 
 as eloquent as words, in showing what she thought of all 
 the grandeur, and Annie looked almost as serious as if 
 she had heard that Ben was confined in a debtor's prison ; 
 they were both afraid that Ben's exaltation would be a 
 barrier to their continued friendship with him, and Annie 
 almost gave him up as lost to her for ever. 
 
 Without waiting to hear their opinions, Frank then 
 explained to them the reason why Ben v/as unable to 
 leave home for awhile; and how that he had com- 
 missioned him (Frank), to go to Melbourne by the most 
 direct route, and express to Annie his earnest wish that 
 she should go to England, with all possible speed, to 
 share his good fortune and to make him happy for life. 
 
 " Here is a letter for each of )ou," added Frank, in-
 
 ERRANDS OF CHARITY. 339 
 
 terrupting the hasty objections which he thought they 
 were going to offer. " I dare say you will find that Ben 
 has written his wishes and hopes in a softer way than I 
 have told them to you. Please to read what he says, 
 and let me tell you that you may believe every word of 
 it ; for though he is now rolling in riches, as the saying 
 is, he is still the same kind faithful friend as ever, and 
 true as a weather-glass. If I knew that he wasn't so, 
 you wouldn't see me here on this errand, I'll warrant, 
 for I have too much respect for you both to help any 
 one to trifle with you or mislead you." 
 
 Frank thought it would be well to give the ladies 
 time to read their letters, and to discuss the contents of 
 them together quietly, so he soon excused himself for 
 going away for awhile, but he accepted their pressing 
 invitation to take tea with them in the evening. He 
 had instructions from Ben to pay donations to several 
 charitable and religious institutions in the cplony, and 
 he thought the sooner he paid the money the better, so 
 he set about the pleasing duty forthwith. 
 
 First of all, he went to drop something into the money 
 box at the door of the Seamen's Mission Church, at 
 Sandridge, in kindly remembrance of the spiritual help 
 and comfort. Ben and he had received there, under the 
 ministration of its zealous chaplain. Rev. Kerr Johnson.. 
 Thousands of sailors have had religious teaching and 
 counsel in that little Bethel, and it would be well if all 
 of them would follow Ben's good example, and send a 
 little of their spare money occasionally, in aid of the 
 funds of that useful institution ; and also send some-. 
 thing to help on the comfortable Seamen's Home. The 
 writer has known Melbourne and Sydney long before 
 Seamen's Churches or Seamen's Homes were estab- 
 lished ; and he can remember the sadly neglected
 
 40 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 condition of the majority of sailors who visited those 
 ports, many of whom, alas ! never sailed out of a port 
 again. Now the men are well cared for, and it is purely 
 their own fault if they neglect the freely offered help 
 and advice of the seamen's missionaries, and allow 
 themselves to be beguiled and perhaps plundered by the 
 merciless horde of crimps and other land sharks, that 
 live and flourish in those busy seaports, and who are 
 morally accountable for tine wreck and^ ruin of many 
 a promising young sailor-lad, and for the broken hearts 
 of fathers and mothers afar off. 
 
 The Mariners' Church in Sydney is a fine stone 
 building, in a commanding situation ; and the Ikthel 
 flag can be seen waving from its lofty staff, from many 
 parts of Sydney harbour. The religious services there 
 are pretty well attended. For many years it had for 
 its chaplain the Rev. Thomas Gainford, a gentleman 
 who was admirably qualified for his duties by his genial 
 manner, as well as from his long practical acquaintance 
 with seafnen and their peculiarities. He was a constant 
 worker, often to be seen about the quays of Sydney, 
 ' and there were not many ships in port that he did not 
 visit. • His memory will long be cherished in the hearts 
 of seamen and others who have, through his faithful 
 teaching, forsaken their old vicious habits, and resolved 
 to live godly, righteous, and sober li\'cs. About a year 
 ago that excellent pastor died, greatly lamented. He 
 was not much beyond life's meridian. A memoir ot 
 him and of his useful labours is now being written by 
 his son ; and it will be published in a volume, perhaps 
 before this brief notice of him is in print. It will be 
 interesting reading. There is a Home for Seamen in 
 Sydney, a large brick building, erected about a hundred 
 yards from the Mariners' Church.
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 341 
 
 At the usual hour for tea, which Frank well remem- 
 bered, he returned to Mrs. Blake's cottage and was 
 again warmly received. As he had anticipated, Mrs, 
 Blake was firm in her objection to let her daughter go 
 to England alone ; and she feared she could not accom- 
 pany her, without making too great a sacrifice of the 
 little property which her late husband had toiled hard 
 to accumulate. There was no way that she could then 
 see to accede to Ben's kind wishes ; but she promised to 
 consider the matter carefully over again, and to give 
 her decision as soon as she could. Frank listened to the 
 widow's sensible arguments in thoughtful silence, while 
 Annie sat by looking pensive, but evidently prepared to 
 yield dutiful obedience to her mother's wishes. It was 
 far from being a merry evening to either of thern, and it 
 was drawing near to bedtime, without any definite plan 
 having been arranged. 
 
 Frank was a thorough seaman, as I have before 
 shown. He could steer a ship in a gale of wind with 
 steady nerves, or he could at one time have stood at his 
 gun in a sea fight, with the fearless determination which 
 is so characteristic of all true British tars. But in the 
 more tender operation of love-making he felt almost as 
 incompetent as he was to play on a French horn or a 
 church organ. Still he felt bound to make an attempt 
 in that way. The Great Britain steamship was then 
 lying in Hobson's Bay, and was advertised to sail for 
 London ten days hence, and his earnest wish was to return 
 by that ship, taking Mrs. Blake and Annie with him, 
 the one as his wife and the other as his step-daughter. 
 It seemed a hard duty to accomplish, but Frank was 
 hopeful. He had given the subject many hours of 
 happy cogitation when on his voyage to Melbourne, 
 and had resolved, that when a favourable time came he
 
 342 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 would open his heart to Mrs. Blake, in a modest, 
 straightforward way, without any tacking. " Widows 
 have more sense than young maidens," reasoned Frank 
 to himself, "and Mrs. Blake will understand what I 
 mean, without much palaver or waste of logic. I never 
 yet made love to a woman, and I don't know the ' rules 
 of the road ' on that line, but I suppose my own natural 
 gumption will help me when I begin to pop the question ; 
 and after all I may find it is as simple as firing off a 
 great gun." 
 
 While Mrs. Blake was giving her opinion of Ben's 
 proposition, in more words than I have just recorded, 
 Frank was trying to make up his mind to speak up for 
 himself — to tell his tale of love. He wished Annie was 
 away, but he knew that she would not retire to rest 
 before her mother went ; so he at length resolved to say 
 what he had to say in her presence, for he had nothing 
 to propose that he need be ashamed of. So he coughed 
 away a little huskiness of voice, and then stood up and 
 said with tender boldness : — 
 
 "Mrs. Blake, I have a few words to say on my own 
 behalf. I hope you won't be offended with me ; but if 
 you should think well of my proposal, we can all go to 
 England together, as happy as three birds in a basket. 
 I think you have known me long enough, ma'am, to 
 believe that I mean what I say ; and if I can't put my 
 meaning into fine words, it is not the less honest and 
 true. Through the generosity of my friend Ben, or 
 Mr. IMarshall I ought to call him now, I have enough 
 money to buy a small vessel, by which 1 hope to earn 
 the means of making a comfortable home on shore. If 
 you will agree to share that home with me, I shall be 
 prouder than if I were to receive the appointment of 
 harbour master of Port Philip. I offer you my hand
 
 A SHORT COURTSHIP. 343 
 
 and heart, Mrs. Blake, and I promise to do all that a 
 true man can do to make you happy and comfortable. 
 We can moor ourselves for life in our native land ; but 
 if you prefer it we will return to this colony, after seeing 
 Annie carefully settled, for no place comes amiss to a 
 sailor. Please to tell me what you think of my rough- 
 spun proposal ; but whatever you say to it, I hope you . 
 won't be offended with me," 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Shorter ! you surprise me ! " exclaimed the 
 widow, in a tone which did not indicate displeasure : " I 
 am astonished at what you say." 
 
 " Ay, I have no doubt of it, ma'am. I am astonished 
 myself that I have been able to say as much, but I mean 
 every word of it. I don't want you to give me an 
 answer to-night : think over it, ma'am, and let me know 
 to-morrow." Frank then said " good-night," and retired 
 to his bedroom, leaving the widow and her daughter 
 almost overpowered by feelings of the softest kind. 
 
 I have before endeavoured to show that Mrs. Blake 
 was a sensible woman, so the reader has anticipated her 
 reply to Frank's manly proposal. The next morning 
 she gave him a favourable answer, to the rejoicing of 
 his heart. Their courtship was necessarily a short one, 
 but no doubt it was an interesting time to them both, 
 as it usually is in honest love suits. The preparation 
 for their marriage was made in quiet order ; and in less 
 than a week from the date of Frank's arrival in Victoria 
 they were married at the Seamen's Mission Church. It 
 was the wish of both the bride and bridegroom that the 
 ceremony should be a quiet one, so there were not more 
 than six of Mrs. Blake's most intimate friends at the 
 wedding feast. Some of Frank's waggish shipmates 
 had, however, heard of his match with his former land- 
 lady, and were resolved to honour him, in their peculiar
 
 344 ^^V THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 way ; so on his wedding night, they gathered a large 
 company of serenadcrs (comprising nearly all the sober 
 sailors in the port), in front of the cottage of Carlton, 
 and lustily sang the sailors' song, " Hey O, cheerily 
 man ! " while the bridal pair inside laughed as merrily 
 as if they were not half as old as their grey hairs pro- 
 claimed them to be. 
 
 It cost Mrs. Shorter many a sigh to consent to a 
 summary disposal of her household goods and chattels. 
 She fain would have taken a large p^ortion of them with 
 her, but her husband gently persuaded her that it was 
 impracticable. She at length yielded to his wishes, and 
 a broker was called in, who made an easy bargain of the 
 whole in one lot. A neighbour, whom Mrs. Shorter had 
 known many years, agreed to lease the cottage for a 
 term, so that matter was satisfactorily arranged. Three 
 days after their marriage, Frank and his wife and Annie 
 went on board the Great Britain steamer, and the next 
 morning she steamed away from her' moorings, bound 
 for Liverpool. As the stately vessel made her first bows 
 to the ocean swell, in passing through the " rip " at Port 
 Philip heads, Mrs. Shorter was overcome by various 
 emotions, uppermost of which were gratitude and 
 wonder, that her dear old mother's predictions were 
 likely to be realized ; namely, that before she died, she 
 should see her beloved daughter and grand-daughter 
 again in old England. 
 
 It had been previously arranged that Frank should 
 send a telegram via Galle, briefly stating the result of 
 his errand to Melbourne [direct telegraphic communi- 
 cation between England and Australia was not then 
 established]. Ben was awaiting the message which so 
 deeply affected his happiness, with feelings which only 
 ardent young lovers can understand. One morning, as
 
 A BRIEF MESSAGE, ■ 34S 
 
 he was sitting in the Hbrary with his tutor, and was 
 puzzh'ng over a problem in the first book of Euclid, a 
 servant handed him a letter, which had just arrived at 
 the Hall." He hastily opened the envelope, and found 
 that it was a telegram from Melbourne. 
 
 When considering how he should word his important 
 message, Frank had remarked to his wife, " I never sent 
 news off before in this way, and it is precious dear. 
 Each word sent along this wonderful deep sea cable 
 costs the price of a new hat, so I must be careful — at 
 any rate, I won't be extravagant." 
 
 Frank could hardly have been more economical, for 
 his message comprised only one word, "Coming"; 
 but that word was as good as a folio to Ben, for he 
 knew what it meant. He handed the paper to his 
 tutor, who might have been as much puzzled over its 
 meaning as his pupil had been over the mathematical 
 problem, a few minutes before, only that he knew a few 
 of Ben's love secrets. 
 
 " Hurrah ! I am the proudest man in the land ! " Ben 
 exclaimed, as he started up from his desk. " Pray 
 forgive my hilarity, Mr. ]\Iosely. You may have similar 
 cause for jubilant excitement some day, and I hope you 
 will be as lucky as I am in your choice of a sweetheart 
 Now will you be kind enough to release me from any 
 more lessons to-day, sir? I must go and see my sister, 
 and tell her all my "good news, which is just put into 
 one word of six letters," 
 
 Of course Mr. Mosely could not refuse Ben's polite 
 request, so away he ran into the drawing-room, where 
 Edith was practising a piece of new music, for she was 
 an accomplished pianist. 
 
 "Annie is coming!" he shouted in an ecstasy of 
 delight. "Annie is coming to make me the happiest
 
 346 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 man alive, and help me to love my kind sister more 
 fondly. ]\Iy precious darling is homeward bound ! I 
 hope she will have fair winds and fine weather all 
 through the voyage, and then have happiness with me all 
 the days of her life ! Ha, ha ! I am gushing over with 
 joy, Edith ; and how strange it is that I should feel 
 inclined to weep when my heart is so full of gladness." 
 
 " I feel ready to cry too, dear," said Edith, while her 
 beautiful face was beaming with happy smiles. " Oh, I 
 must cry, Ben ! " she added, as she threw her arms about 
 his neck. For several minutes they were both shedding 
 tears ; but it was a sort of joyous weeping, that ordinary 
 writers had better not meddle with, for they cannot 
 explain the psychological anomaly. 
 
 The general stir at Newby Hall for several weeks 
 ensuing was unprecedented in the experience of " the 
 oldest inhabitant." There were workers indoors and 
 out of doors — painters and decorators and masons and 
 artisans of other grades. It was a busy season indeed, 
 quite a harvest time for the tradesmen around, for Ben 
 considerately determined on employing all the people 
 in the neighbourhood who were able to do the work he 
 required to be done, before he sent elsewhere for work- 
 men. Edith was busy in directing indoor decorations, 
 where her refined taste was brought into useful exercise. 
 Ben was busy in overlooking the external renovation of 
 the mansion and out-buildings, or in suggesting various 
 improvements to a promising young architect (a son of 
 the village miller), whom Ben had specially engaged as 
 superintendent of works. There were no drones in that 
 human hive, everybody was busy ; and when their work 
 was completed, it was unanimously confessed that the 
 old Hall and its surroundings had never before looked 
 so grand or imposing. Ben was an agreeable master to
 
 EXTENSIVE PREPARATIONS. 347 
 
 work for, because he was so considerate to his employes, 
 and he always seemed pleased with their work. He 
 knew that he had good reason to be satisfied and 
 pleased, for every one was doing his or her part towards 
 making the homestead look extra stylish before the 
 young bride arrived ; and Ben's heart swelled with happy 
 emotions as he thought how. his precious Annie's bright 
 eyes- would sparkle with rapture, when she saw the 
 beautiful home that she was to call her own. 
 
 Grandmother Bruce was not invited to Newby Hall 
 till nearly all the alterations were effected. She was a 
 little ruffled that she had not been sent for earlier; 
 however, she soon got over it, and seemed to be deter- 
 mined to make up for lost time and opportunity by 
 extra efforts. Few of the helpers showed more activity 
 than she did with her hands, and her tongue was not 
 often silent. All Ben's soft admonitions could not 
 much affect her inclination for fraternising with the 
 servants, so he at length ceased to trouble himself in the 
 matter. 
 
 " Yes, Ben, dear ! " said grandmother when he was 
 reasoning with her one morning, " I admit that some- 
 times, ' Familiarity breeds contempt' ; but kindness will 
 often cure contempt, and other ill-feelings. I have 
 found that out long ago."
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 " Be wakeful, be vigilant, danger may be 
 At an hour when all seemeth securest to thee." 
 
 — Mrs. Southey. 
 
 The Great Britain steamship sped on her homeward 
 way under the double propulsion of machinery and 
 canvas, past the rocky " snares " off the south-east cape 
 of New Zealand, and past many more dangerous snares 
 in the form of drifting icebergs in her track over the 
 wide Pacific Ocean. Onward sped the stately ship past 
 the blustering Horn, where the south polar winds hold 
 their weird carnival all the year round, playing wreck 
 with unsound ships, and freezing the bones and marrow 
 of poor sailors who have neglected to buy themselves 
 warm outfits for that icy region, and leaving them per- 
 petual remembrances in the twinges of rheumatic pains. 
 Onward rolled the stanch old ship under the guidance 
 of her popular commander, and at length she reached 
 the much longed for region of sunshine and genial trade- 
 winds, unscathed by the gales and foaming waves 
 through which she had ploughed her rapid way. 
 
 Just now memory recalls an incident in my wander- 
 ings which I venture to print, and I am sure that by 
 many readers the digression will be pardoned. 
 
 One morning in mid-winter, years ago, I was waiting 
 at the Sandridge railway-station for the ten o'clock 
 train to Melbourne. The weather was bleak, and the 
 
 348
 
 CAPTAIN GRAY. 349 
 
 station was draughty, so I felt the comfort of my over- 
 coat and woollen muffler. Presently a tall handsome 
 man walked on to the platform, after landing from a 
 boat at the railway jetty. From his gait and his ruddy 
 complexion, I judged that he was a sailor, though he 
 was- dressed in genteel landsman's style. He had no 
 overcoat on, and he did not seem to mind cold winds 
 any more than a penguin or a stormy petrel does. As 
 I scanned his powerful-looking frame, I eavied him his 
 strength, for I had not quite so much as I wished for on 
 that morning. When the train came up, the sailor 
 gentleman got into a saloon carriage, and I soon dis- 
 covered that he was Captain Gray, of the Great Britain 
 steamship, which had arrived- from Liverpool on the 
 previous day with her usual complement of five hundred 
 passengers. He seemed to be well known to many of 
 the other gentlemen in the carriage, who shook hands 
 with him, and congratulated him on his having made 
 another speedy voyage to Port Philip, and numerous 
 inquiries were made concerning friends whom the cap- 
 tain had taken t-o England on his last voyage. I was 
 pleased at the cordiality with which he replied to the 
 various questions, and the kindly interest he seemed to 
 take in his old passengers, as if they -w'ere all nearly 
 related to him. When we got out of the carriage at 
 Melbourne, I witnessed another example of the genial 
 disposition of the captain. A young woman, apparently 
 a domestic servant, who was on the platform, curtseyed 
 respectfully to him. He seemed at once to recognise 
 her as one of his passengers on a previous voyage, for 
 he stopped and shook hands with her, and said in a 
 kind fatherly tone, "Well, Bridget, I am glad to see 
 you again, my girl. I hope you are still in a good 
 situation, and are getting on comfortably." Of course I
 
 3SO IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 did not stop to overhear the conversation that followed, 
 but I felt a sort of loving regard for the good-natured 
 captain who, popular as he was, did not object to stop 
 arid give a few words of cheering counsel to a poor 
 servant-girl. Perhaps I felt more interest in him from 
 the fact that several valued friends of mine voyaged 
 from England in his ship, and I had heard them speak 
 in grateful terms of his gentlemanly kindness, and his 
 watchful seamanship. As I slowly walked away from 
 the railway-station, I fancied that if I had just then the 
 option of exchanging my life-lot with any other man 
 in Australia, it certainly should be with Captain Gray, 
 though he might get the worst of the bargain, for he 
 looked the very picture of health, and a tower of 
 strength, and apparently of robust intellect also — just 
 the sort of man to enjoy life thoroughly. Moreover he 
 was commander of the finest ship that then traded to 
 the colony ; and the testimonials that he received each 
 voyage from his passengers, showed how much he was 
 appreciated for his nautical skill as well as for his 
 urbanity of manner ; in short, I thought he was the 
 most fortunate man I had seen for a long time, a 
 more popular man than the Premier, or even than the 
 noble Governor of Victoria. 
 
 A {q.\n months afterwards, I was shocked at rcading*a 
 telegram in my morning newspaper, of the mysterious 
 death of Captain Gray. He went overboard somewhere 
 off Cape Horn, on his return voyage to Liverpool. 
 While I with peculiarly mournful feelings read the brief 
 report of his untimely end, I recalled to mind my reflec- 
 tions concerning him on that bleak mid-winter morning 
 in Melbourne, when I envied him his physical strength 
 and his apparent enjoyment of life. 
 
 The remains of poor Captain Gray are lying in tiic
 
 A CHANGE OF WEATHER. 351 
 
 depths of the sea, but recollections of his gentlemanly 
 kindness, and of his professional skill and watchfulness, 
 are cherished by many warm hearts to-day in Australia 
 and elsewhere. Though I was only in his company for 
 the short time I have mentioned, I do not forget his 
 pleasant-looking face, or the genial tones of his voice, 
 and I lament his awfully sad fate. 
 
 " To live in hearts we leave behind 
 Is not to die." 
 
 Annie Blake was as gladsome as a bird in spring, when 
 she could throw aside her furs and her wool-lined boots, 
 and appear on deck unburdened by a necessary weight 
 of clothing ; and her mother was equally glad of the 
 change of weather. ]\Iany cheerless, stormy days and 
 nights had been passed, but there they were at length, 
 speeding along with a smooth sea and sunshine all 
 around them, and with their hearts full of gratitude for 
 Divine protection and guidance thus far on their way 
 homeward. Well was it for them too that they had an 
 experience'd guardian in Frank, His forethought saved 
 them from many a cold shiver in the high latitudes, 
 where the sun has not much more heat than the moon, 
 and where everything is damp and clammy, and inclined 
 to mouldiness. He had told them beforehand that it 
 was nipping cold in 60° south latitude, and they had 
 better provide themselves with plenty of thick wrappers 
 as well as sundry warm things to wear under their 
 wraps/ and especially to get some thick soled boots and 
 woollen gloves. " Don't trust to india-rubber goloshes, 
 or your feet will always be as cold as snowballs," sug- 
 gested Frank. " If those things keep the damp out in 
 bad weather, which I think is doubtful, they don't keep 
 out cold.; lean tell you that from experience. Take
 
 352 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA, 
 
 some stout cloth boots with cork soles inside them, and 
 mind you get them big enough to allow of your wearing 
 two pairs of thick lambswool stockings. That's my 
 advice to you both." They took his advice, and they 
 were afterwards grateful for it, especially so when they 
 saw some of their fellow-passengers, who had been less 
 careful of their outfit, suffering severely with cold feet 
 and hands. 
 
 No one but Annie Blake herself knew how variously 
 her love-laden heart was affected each day at noon, 
 when she heard the result of the day's work for the last 
 twenty-four hours ; and how impatient she was -to get 
 to the end of the voyage. " Heigho ! only 150 miles 
 yesterday ! " she would secretly ejaculate, when, a foul 
 wind had retarded the ship's progress ; but when they 
 logged 300 miles or more, as a day's run, how cheerily 
 Annie renewed her calculations in her little private log- 
 book, as to how much farther the ship had to go before 
 she reached her moorings. Annie knew the exact dis- 
 tance to a furlong, for Frank had worked it out for her. 
 Sometimes she felt an impetuous wish that the screw 
 would revolve faster, and she fancied that the stokers 
 were not so active as they should be, or the engineers 
 did not put oil enough on the engines ; and she Avas 
 always a ' little dissatisfied if she heard the captain 
 cautiously give the order to haul down or clew up any 
 of the light sails, for she feared the speed of the ship 
 would be decreased. All those peculiar emotions and 
 longings of her loving heart were natural enough, and 
 they have been experienced by many other honest 
 young damsels when voyaging either homeward or out- 
 ward on a similar tender errand. They are always 
 impatient. 
 
 On the sixty-third day from Melbourne the Great
 
 A JOYOUS WELCOME. 353 
 
 Britain entered the Mersey ; and in less than an hour 
 after the cables had rattled through the hawse-holes a 
 message from Frank was flashing along the telegraph 
 wires to apprise Ben of the happy fact that Annie and 
 her mother had arrived in England safe and sound. 
 How Ben's heart did bound with joy when that glad 
 news arrived ! And there were many other hearts outside 
 of his household that soon rejoiced also, for in his over- 
 flowing gladness that his best loved earthly treasure 
 was so near to him, he ordered his gardener to send a 
 cartload of fruit to each of the schools in the adjacent 
 village, and ordered his butler to supply every poor 
 cottager in the parish with a pound's worth of groceries 
 and a joint of beef. 
 
 As soon as they could get their luggage on shore, 
 Frank and his wife and Annie set off for Sussex, and 
 arrived next morning at Willow Farmhouse, where 
 Mrs, Shorter was born and reared. There they were 
 cordially welcomed by many waiting friends. Mrs. 
 Shorter's mother, though long past threescore years and 
 ten, was a hale old woman ; and her delight at receiving 
 her long absent daughter and grand-daughter, and her 
 new son-in-law, far overran the bounds of moderation. 
 The dear old lady laughed and cried in alternate parox- 
 ysms for an hour or more ; but it was all the outpouring 
 of joy which had filled her heart too full. A score of 
 the prettiest children in the village, all clad in their 
 Sunday attire, came, in the afternoon, to present Annie 
 with their gatherings of field flowers, and while she was 
 accepting their rustic offerings, the bells of old Hoplcy 
 Church rang out a merry peal, which made Mrs. Shorter 
 run into her bedroom " to have a good cry," for they put 
 her in mind of the happy day long ago when she was 
 crowned " Queen of the May " on Hopley Green. 
 
 A A
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 " Let nothing but a face of joy appear : 
 The man who frowns this day shall lose his head." 
 
 — Fielding. 
 
 Ben did not spend any time unnecessarily in preparing 
 to start for Sussex after he received Frank's telegram, 
 announcing his arrival in England with his precious 
 charge. Swiftly as express train could carry him, he 
 sped on his way to Willow Farm. But even fifty miles 
 an hour was too slow travelling for him ; so impatient 
 was his love, he fain would have gone faster than ever 
 railway wheels had run before ; nor was he oppressed 
 with nervous dread of the train running off the rails and 
 spoiling him for a merry bridegroom ; he was so mucli 
 occupied in thinking of dear Annie, that he could not 
 think of himself By a rather interesting coincidence, 
 he was passing Ilopley Chiirch in a cab as the ringers 
 were pealing out their merriest changes as a welcome 
 home to Annie and her mother ; and when he drove up 
 to the old farmhouse, his darling was in the front garden 
 trymg on a coronet of wild flowers, which the village 
 children had just presented to her. Ben thought he had 
 never before seen a human being look so fascinating. 
 He leaped from the cab as if he were electrified, and 
 almost before the enraptured maid could cry ' Oh ! ' she 
 was clasped in the arms of her faithful lover. 
 
 354
 
 ' ' NEXT MONDA Y WEEK. " 355 
 
 Such a delectable meeting should be described in more 
 ambrosial phrases than I am able to coin, for I am not 
 a poet, neither have I carefully studied the popular style 
 of expressing the raptures of ardent young lovers. But 
 I can naturally imagine how pleased they both felt, and 
 perhaps I had better leave my readers to picture for 
 themselves the happy scene, which was as tender a 
 demonstration of real affection as ever was known in 
 human experience. Ben spent three days at Willow 
 Farm — days of rural felicity such as he never before 
 enjoyed. I should like to have been there with him and 
 his rustic friends, for I love the simple homeliness of 
 village life in old England. Before leaving Willow Farm 
 to complete his preparations for the coming event, Ben 
 pressed his darhng Annie to name an early day for their 
 espousals ; and after a little natural diffidence, which 
 all modest maidens exhibit, she blushingly whispered, 
 " Next Monday week ! " 
 
 It would take a long time to tell of all the joyous 
 demonstrations of the villagers during the ensuing week. 
 Their exuberant feelings took many fanciful shapes ; but 
 an extreme willingness to help in some way showed itself 
 above all their eccentricities. Frank was a sort of com- 
 mander-in-chief in all the out-of-door preparations, and 
 he had an able crew of workers. He soon grew very 
 popular with the honest rustics, and seemed as much at 
 home amongst them as if he had been born and bred in 
 Hopley parish. " A merry old soul was he ! " with a 
 heart full of love for everybody, and a head pretty well 
 stored with practical knowledge, and wisdom to guide it 
 and make it useful to all around him. He was a favourite 
 with both old and young, for he would play with the 
 little children as briskly as a boy, or he would cheer their 
 fathers and mothers and grandmothers by his happy,
 
 356 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 genial humour or by his timely Christian counsel. He 
 was always welcome to their humble dwellings. 
 
 One afternoon a party of merry village girls, em- 
 boldened by the presence of Mrs. Shorter and Annie, 
 and perhaps prompted by them, lured Frank into a hop 
 garden, and before he was aware of their playful object, 
 they tossed him into a large hop bin, and rolled him over 
 and over in the new hops till he sneezed like a young 
 snuff-taker. Nor would the girls let him get out until 
 he agreed to tell them one of his funny sea stories. He 
 had entertained some of the young children the day 
 before with a few amusing incidents of his experience 
 abroad, and they spread his fame as a story-teller 
 through their respective circles of influence. After get- 
 ting his clothes properly dusted, Frank sat down under 
 the clustering hop-poles, and the girls gathered around 
 him to hear his story ; so he gave them some useful 
 advice in the form of a nautical allegory, making it simple 
 enough to be intelligible to them all. I cannot give his 
 address exactly, for there was no reporter present ; but 
 I may boldly say that it was infinitely more worthy of 
 being reported than many speeches of public men which 
 I have seen in print of late years — speeches full of 
 infidelity, sedition, and all uncharitablencss. Happy 
 would it be for old England and her colonies if all her 
 influential men had as much real wisdom and honesty of 
 purpose as that rough-spun British sailor. 
 
 Frank told the listening maidens how they should 
 ballast their minds with useful knowledge, and keep their 
 standing rigging well set up, and all their running gear 
 in good order, and keep a taut leech on their sails ; and 
 he made them understand the meaning of his nautical 
 figures. He told them they were to keep a constant 
 look-out for the rocks and shoals of sin, which thickly
 
 A NAUTICAL SERMON. 357 
 
 Stud the sea ot life ; and for the squalls of temptation 
 and the tempests of passion. He also warned them 
 against piratical cruisers ; and graphically described 
 some of the deceitful rogues who, he said, would steal 
 their innocent hearts away and then break them as 
 coolly as a jack monkey would steal a peach or crack a 
 nut. He specially advised his young listeners to study 
 the Bible (which he called the universal chart) with 
 diligence, and always to keep their eyes on their com- 
 pass card (faith) while steering their bark on life's 
 dangerous voyage ; and above all to take Christ for 
 their pilot, and He would surely guide them at last into 
 the smooth haven of eternal rest. 
 
 Some of the girls were moved to tears at Frank's 
 address, and they all seemed to be more or less influenced 
 by it ; for though it was rather humorous in some parts, 
 it was full of wholesome meaning, and they all enjoyed 
 it ; perhaps no one more so than Mrs. Shorter, who 
 afterwards told Frank that she thought it was almost as 
 good as a sermon. 
 
 Never since the days when Willow Farm was a wild 
 wood, full of free and naked Britons, was heard such a 
 buzz of jocund voices in its vicinity, and never were there 
 such active movements about the homestead, as took 
 place for the few days prior to the wedding. Nearly all 
 the cottagers around seemed to think it was a personal 
 honour that a farmer's grand-daughter, born in their 
 parish, should be going to be married to a very rich 
 gentleman, and to live in a fine house three times bigger 
 than the rectory. Frank had received general instruc- 
 tions from Ben, and acting upon them, he set to work 
 immediately after his friend's departure. In the first 
 place, he saw the church ringers, and told them that he 
 had sent to London for a coil of new manilla rope, as he
 
 358 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 had noticed on his visit to the belfry that most of the 
 bell ropes were stranded, so they were not to be trusted 
 to ring out a merry marriage peal. He also said he had 
 ordered a new union-jack, to be hoisted on the flag-pole 
 of the church tower on the wedding-day, if the Vicar 
 kindly permitted it. Frank was too consistent to give 
 to others what he dared not use himself, so instead of 
 providing grog for the ringers, he promised each man a 
 suit of new clothes. He next enlisted all the able lads 
 of the village to help him rig up several triumphal arches, 
 between the church and Willow Farmhouse, and to 
 each lad he promised a new holiday suit, a pocket-knife, 
 and a brass jew's-harp. 
 
 Mrs. Shorter was also busy in directing the operations 
 of the girls of the village in floral decorations of the 
 homestead ; and to each lass she presented a new white 
 frock, a new hat smartly trimmed, and a handsome waist 
 ribbon. All the poor old men in the parish were sup- 
 plied with new smock-frocks or coats, whichever they 
 preferred, and new hats; and all the women with print 
 dresses and straw bonnets. All the children were also 
 supplied with something new ; and in order that every 
 villager should partake of the festivities of the day, 
 arrangements were made for furnishing each needy 
 household with a joint of beef and materials for a plum- 
 pudding ; also a pound of tea and a proportionate 
 allowance of sugar. 
 
 " I am afraid we shall spend too much money, dear, 
 and Mr. Marshall will be dissatisfied with us," remarked 
 Mrs. Shorter to her husband, one evening, when they 
 had roughly calculated the cost of their liberal disburse- 
 ment up to that period. " I had no idea we had spent so 
 much." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! didn't I tell you I knew how to make
 
 A GLORIOUS ENGAGEMENT. 359 
 
 money fly ? " said Frank merrily. " But don't be afraid, 
 lovey ! Ben told me to try to make everybody happy 
 on his wedding-day, and if it costs five times as much as 
 we calculate, he won't grumble. Not he, indeed ! he is 
 too generous for that. He has oceans of money, and 
 what is better still, a kind, unselfish heart, and a dispo- 
 sition to do all the good he can with his riches. Long 
 life to the dear fellow ! Ha, ha ! fire away with your 
 sovereigns, Kitty ! I have some shot in the locker yet, 
 and when it runs out I can write to ]\Ir. Mead for more. 
 Those were my orders, and I'll obey them as rigidly as 
 if they were issued by a commodore. Hurrah 1 I should 
 like to be in such a glorious engagement as this till I am 
 a hundred years old ! Wouldn't I scare a lot of want 
 and misery out of the world ! There shouldn't be a sad 
 heart, or a poverty-stricken home, within hail of me if I 
 could help it." 
 
 " Can it be possible that my wedding-day is come at 
 last } Is it true that the hours of my dreary bachelor- 
 hood are numbered, and that I am to begin a new life of 
 wedded bliss 1 I can scarcely realize the happy fact, 
 which I have dreamt of so often." 
 
 Those were Ben's first ejaculations when he opened his 
 eyes at peep of day on the auspicious morning which he 
 had so long and fondly anticipated. He had arrived at 
 Willow Farm on the previous night, with his grand- 
 mother and his sister. But if his doubts about his happy 
 position were real, they were soon dispelled, for just as 
 the first tinges of the rising sun peered through the ivy 
 into his bedroom window, he heard the shrieks of a fiddle 
 in the agonies of tuning. He sprang from his bed, and 
 on looking out on to the grassy lawn in front, he saw 
 about thirty lads and lasses, headed by old Mr. Rosinby,
 
 36o IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA, 
 
 the leader of the church choir and village poet. After a 
 little preliminary arrangement, the company struck up 
 an original song, composed by their leader, the two first 
 lines of which were : — 
 
 " Ye lovers true, be blithe and gay, because it is your wedding-day ! 
 Get up and see the sun arise ; there's not a cloud upon the skies." 
 
 The second line of the song would not have come in 
 well if the morning had turned out wet ; but Mr. Rosinby 
 made his verses in hopes of fine weather, and he was not 
 disappointed. When the song was ended, Ben opened 
 his casement window and acknowledged the compliment 
 by a few brief remarks, which he emphasized by throw- 
 ing down a purse with ten sovereigns in it. The proud 
 poet took up the purse as a reward of merit, and then 
 marched off with his fiddle under his arm, followed by 
 his more humble associates, to whom, however, he gave 
 a reasonable share of the prize money, but the praise 
 was all his own. 
 
 I should like to furnish, with becoming accuracy, a 
 report of all the proceedings on the eventful day ; but 
 as that is impracticable, I merely state the bare fact 
 that the happy pair were united at Hoplcy Church by 
 the venerable pastor who had married Annie's parents 
 and baptized her in her infancy. As the bridal party 
 left the sacred edifice, the ringers manned their new 
 bell-ropes and pealed out such a stunning triple bob- 
 major that Mr. Pewsey, the churchwarden, trembled lest 
 they should shake down the old tower and damage the 
 church roof. 
 
 The pathway from the church to Willow Farmhouse 
 was strewn with roses and other bright flowers by the 
 school-children, who had been granted a holiday. There 
 was a goodly assemblage of the relatives and intimate
 
 AFTER THE WEDDING. 361 
 
 friends of the bride, and a few of Ben's friends — includ- 
 ing grandmother, of course. The Vicar of the parish was 
 also present at the breakfast, and a real festive gathering 
 it was. Frank's happy face looked as beaming as a har- 
 vest moon, and his merry humour kept everybody in 
 good spirits. His speech, too, was considered the best 
 of all — not excepting the Vicar's ; at any rate, it was 
 more applauded, for there was plenty of honest fun in it, 
 and that is usually more acceptable than solemn talk 
 on festive occasions. After the breakfast was over, the 
 company retired to the great parlour, where the harm- 
 less merriment was continued. Some of the frolicsome 
 young bridesmaids tried to coax Frank to make another 
 speech, but failing in that, they insisted on his singing ; 
 so he sang that fine old song, " Over many lands I've 
 been, many changes I have seen." An encore being 
 loudly demanded, he sang " The death of Nelson." Mrs. 
 Shorter seemed quite pleased at her husband's vocal 
 efforts. 
 
 At four o'clock the bridal pair got into a carriage and 
 drove off for Ramsgate, amid the loud hurrahs of the 
 assembled villagers, all of whom heartily wished long 
 life and prosperity to " the young squire and his wife." 
 Soon afterwards the party in the parlour broke up, when 
 Frank and his wife, and Mr. Mosely and Edith, with 
 the Vicar and other friends, walked to Hoplcy Green, to 
 see the children of the parish enjoying the treat which 
 had been liberally provided for them. The two rejoicing 
 grandmothers remained indoors, to talk of the virtues of 
 their respective children and grandchildren, and also to 
 tell each other all the particulars of their own wedding- 
 days, when they were girls — long, long ago. 
 
 The wedding presents were tastefully arranged in a 
 little room off the breakfast parlour. If not so varied as
 
 362 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 such displays are sometimes, most of the presents were 
 useful, and one, which I shall describe presently, was of 
 a very extraordinary design. I read the following 
 humorous paragraph in the London Daily Telegraph 
 some time ago, and I think I need not scruple to make 
 use of it here : — 
 
 " Among the wedding gifts recently offered to a fair 
 young New York bride, was one fraught with strange and 
 significant purpose. It was an ordinary sweeping broom, 
 provided with a long, stout handle, to which was tied 
 with a strip of white satin ribbon a visiting card, bearing 
 the name and address of the donor (a married lady and 
 intimate friend of the Jia?icc^e's family), as well as the 
 following instructive memorandum : 'Accept this trifling 
 present, and permit me to offer you a suggestion, the 
 fruit of my. own matrimonial experiences, as to how you 
 may utilise it to the greatest advantage. So long as the 
 heaven of your wedded life shall remain calm and cloud- 
 less, sweep your carpets with the lower end of my gift. 
 Thus they shall be kept spotless and you healthily 
 employed. But on the first symptom of domestic rough 
 weather, reverse the broom and make use of its upper 
 end with unflinching vigour. Thus shall you avert the 
 threatening storm, and re-establish conjugal tranquillity 
 upon a firm and enduring basis.' " 
 
 If the witty American lady's gift was not suggestive of 
 a strikingly new use for a broom, as a domestic tool, the 
 article itself certainly was a novel addition to a young 
 bride's collection of wedding presents. It has suggested 
 to me that I might briefly notice Frank Shorter's very 
 novel gift to Annie, and which figured prominently 
 among her other bridal treasures. It was of Frank's 
 own designing, though not entirely his own handiwork, 
 for he had help from a clever young mechanic in the
 
 AN INGENIOUS PRESENT. 3^3 
 
 village. It comprised the model of a ship's capstan,* 
 cut out of a block of cedar, and cleverly carved on the 
 top. Around the barrel of the capstan was wound a 
 silken cord (a miniature hawser or towing rope), with 
 a golden clasp at the end of it. The capstan bars or 
 levers were of polished oak, and on each bar the word 
 LOVE was written in gilt letters. It was explained, in a 
 few graphic sentences of Frank's own writing and com- 
 position, that the whole affair was meant to be 
 emblematical of the softly drawing power of a wife's 
 influence. The machine was to be set up in the main 
 porch of Newby Hall, and love was to be the figurative 
 lever which turned it and wound the silken cord with the 
 golden clasp, which would at any time draw wandering 
 Ben back to his home. There certainly was original 
 poetry in Frank's conception, although he omitted to 
 suggest a practical use for the oaken capstan bars, after 
 the American lady's idea of reversing the broom ; his 
 poetic fancy could not stretch so far as that. 
 
 Few of the invited guests to a wedding banquet think 
 much about the toil and skill that was expended in the 
 preparation of the menu, and perhaps fewer still bestow 
 a thought on the less pleasing labour of clearing away 
 the debris of the feast ; yet that work has to be done. 
 Grandmother Bruce was a volunteer in the clearing-up 
 task, but she did not seem to enjoy it at all. She was 
 uncommonly quiet, and her face occasionally looked as 
 woeful as if she were raking up the cinders from the 
 burning ruins of her old treasured home. Her depres- 
 sion was a mystery even to herself, for she could not 
 doubt that her dear Ben had made a happy match. 
 
 * A capstan is a vertical windlass, usually erected on the main 
 decks of large ships.
 
 364 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 Perhaps her extra rich diet was to blame — goose and 
 wedding-cake do make folks moody sometimes. 
 
 Triumphal arches are never so substantial as railway 
 bridges, though they may look ever so much more 
 picturesque or gaudy. They are creatures of a day — 
 their glories are as ephemeral as fireworks. Frank had 
 obtained permission from the village authorities to erect 
 sundry triumphal arches in the main thoroughfares, on 
 the condition that he removed them the day after the 
 wedding. It was urged that country horses were not 
 used to seeing such grand things, and they would natur- 
 ally try to run away from them, to the risk of life and 
 limb. Accordingly Frank summoned again his staff of 
 young village lads at daybreak, and began the work 
 of demolition. Before dinner time the much admired 
 arches were wholly removed, and there was nothing to 
 be seen along the roadway from Willow Farmhouse to 
 the church door, to mark the recent auspicious event, 
 save here and there a foot-trodden rose, which was too 
 much crushed and begrimed to be picked up by any of 
 the young village maidens and treasured as a soiivenir or 
 memento of the most popular wedding that had ever 
 taken place in Hopley parish. 
 
 Three days afterwards, Grandmother Bruce and Edith 
 and Mr. Mosely returned to Newby Hall. Frank and 
 his wife stayed at Willow Farm.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 " She was his life, 
 The ocean to the river of his thoughts, 
 Which terminated all." 
 
 — Byroti. 
 
 After a most agreeable stay of three weeks at Rams- 
 gate, Ben and his wife returned to their home, and met 
 with a pleasing reception. Annie was delighted with 
 Newby Hall and its surroundings, which were more 
 beautiful even than her fervid imagination had pictured ; 
 and for a while she could hardly realize that it was 
 indeed her own home. She felt a peculiar diffidence in 
 taking her position as mistress over a necessarily large 
 domestic staff; but by degrees she gained more con- 
 fidence. Most of the servants had been in the family 
 for years, and were well trained by the late Mrs 
 Marshall, so they knew their duties, and Annie had 
 comparatively little trouble with them. From the 
 inkling I have given of her gentle disposition^ it may 
 be supposed that she did not assume any consequential 
 airs which would have been offensive to the servants ; 
 on the contrary, her demeanour was marked by a 
 modest dignity, and a kindly consideration for all her 
 household. Servants of the right sort know how to 
 appreciate such treatment from a mistress or a master, 
 and they seldom abuse real kindness by unbecoming 
 
 freedom. 
 
 363
 
 366 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 The Rev, Mr. Moscly continued to live at the Hall, 
 and was much respected by the whole household ; 
 indeed, grandmother's esteem almost amounted to 
 extreme veneration. She thought that he had been 
 providentially sent just at the right time, like a mes- 
 senger of love, to comfort them all. He seemed to take 
 a kindly interest in all their affairs, and was a sort of 
 counsellor-general. He had a cultured mind, and a nice 
 entertaining way of imparting his stores of knowledge 
 to others, without assuming that he knew more than 
 they did. He was usually cheerful, and sometimes ex- 
 uberantly merry. Grandmother declared one day to 
 Edith, that to hear dear Ben and the curate laughing 
 together, like happy twin-brothers, touched her heart 
 more affcctingly than the strains of the grand organ 
 in the Crystal Palace had ever done. He had a fine 
 musical taste, and played the piano moderately well. 
 He was popular as a preacher and a lecturer ; and when 
 he took a service in the parish church, at the request of 
 his friend the Rector, there was usually a full congrega- 
 tion. He was also fond of athletic sports of a harmless 
 kind, and was the patron of a cricket club, formed by 
 some of the youths of the parish. He excelled as an 
 archer, and also as a skater ; but horse riding was his 
 favourite exercise. He taught Edith to ride. Ben 
 made fair progress under the tuition of Mr. Moscly, but 
 he found the first six months a season of hard drudgery; 
 and but for the encouraging counsel of his tutor, he 
 would have thrown up his duties, as impatiently as a 
 young colt kicks off a pack-saddle. He was afterwards 
 glad that he had manfully persevered with them, for 
 they became easier by degrees. 
 
 While the curate was attending assiduously to the 
 mental training of his adult pupil, he was quietly pur-
 
 THE CURATE'S COURTSHIP. 367 
 
 suing the study of a most popular branch of natural 
 philosophy, on his own private account. I daresay the 
 astute reader has anticipated as much. It would be 
 almost as unnatural for a young lady and gentleman, 
 so alike in tastes and refined manners as Edith and the 
 curate, to live in a house together for a year or more 
 without becoming fondly attached, as it would be for a 
 lot of schoolboys to sit in a cherry orchard with their 
 hands in their pockets. To tell, in a tender way, all 
 about the budding and blossoming and ripening of their 
 mutual affection, would be as interesting and soothing 
 to my mental senses, as softly gliding in a sedan-chair 
 through a beautiful flower garden, or a grand picture 
 exhibition ; but it would be necessarily a lengthy report, 
 and I cannot afford space for it. I will simply say, in 
 ancient prose — they loved one another. After the usual 
 experience of heart-flutterings between hopes and fears 
 and indecision, which most young men know some- 
 thing of, Mr. Mosely declared his love, in becoming 
 style, and was accepted as the affianced suitor of Edith, 
 with the cordial assent of the whole family. When that 
 compact was settled, Mr. IMosely's name was familiarised 
 to Fred, and he became a recognised member of the 
 inner social circle, with all its privileges. 
 
 It is generally admitted that courting-time is a very 
 joyous one, and yet how often we see young lovers 
 impatient for those halcyon days to end ! Curious 
 anomaly ! Possibly Edith and Fred might have shown 
 unusual patience in that way if they had been fairly 
 tried; but it so happened that the Rector became unable 
 to attend to his sacred duties through infirmity, so Fred 
 was chosen to officiate for \\\m,pro tcui. It soon, how- 
 ever, led to his being offered the living and the parson- 
 age house, with the hearty sanction of the Rector. Such
 
 368 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 an opening for usefulness was not to be slighted, and 
 Fred accepted it joyfully. Of course, he could not be 
 expected to live in a parsonage all alone, like a hermit ; 
 so Edith, with characteristic charity, agreed to go and 
 keep him company — to be his travelling companion for 
 the journey of life. Their wedding festivities were on 
 a quiet scale ; but were perhaps not less enjoyable to 
 them than if all their parishioners had been present. 
 After a few weeks' delightful sojourn in Edinburgh, and 
 in some of the environs of that beautiful city, they 
 returned to their parsonage, which was one of the most 
 picturesque retreats in rural England, Grandmother 
 playfully remarked to Ben, after her first visit to the 
 bride and bridegroom, that they looked as chirpy and 
 cosy as two young linnets in a sweetbriar bush. 
 
 The marriage of Edith with the clergyman of the 
 parish had a softening influence on the feelings of the 
 gentry around, in favour of her brother and his wife, 
 and overtures of friendship were more numerous than 
 Ben found it expedient to encourage ; for a quiet life 
 was more to his taste than fashionable gaiety. Some 
 very useful designs of a philanthropic character were 
 engaging his leisure hours, though he continued to 
 persevere in his educational studies, in which he re- 
 ceived occasional help from his good brother-in-law. 
 Several minor posts of honour were offered to Ben in 
 the county, but he considered that it would be wiser 
 economy of his time to perfect his education, as far as 
 practicable, and thus better fit himself to fill any public 
 office that he might, by-and-by, see it his bounden duty 
 to accept. He rightly acknowledged that wealth and 
 position have their responsibilities and imperative ob- 
 ligations which no man can honourably evade. 
 
 After Ben's wedding, Mr, and Mrs. Shorter made a
 
 FRANK EXPLAINS HIS PLANS. 369 
 
 reasonably long stay at Willow Farm ; they then went 
 to Newby Hall to spend a few weeks, prior to going 
 to London to begin housekeeping on their own account. 
 During the quieter intervals of his holiday time, Frank 
 had been turning over certain plans and projects in his 
 mind for his future operations. He resolved, first of all, 
 to go up for his examination as master mariner ; and 
 then to buy a small vessel for the Mediterranean trade, 
 and sail her himself. One evening, soon after his arrival 
 at the Hall, Ben and he were sitting in the library 
 together, and he was explaining all his plans to his 
 good friend, who listened with genuine interest. He 
 argued that, although he and his wife might manage 
 to live well enough in a humble way on their means, it 
 was not right or safe for a man who had strength to 
 work to remain inactive ; and it was reasonable to 
 expect a man to get on most prosperously with the sort 
 of work that he understood best. " Every man- to his 
 calling," as the ship's butcher said when they asked him 
 to lend a hand to furl the flying-jib. " Depend on it, 
 Ben, the devil has ten times a better chance to get to 
 windward of an idle fellow than he has of one who is 
 actively employed." 
 
 "Yes, that is a well-established fact, Frank. Poet 
 Cowper says : 
 
 " ' An idler's like a watch that has no hands, 
 As useless when it goes as when it stands.' 
 
 But there is no danger of you getting lazy and useless. 
 You have explained your plans to me, and I think they 
 are very feasible ; but even good plans, it is said, should 
 be made to give way to better ones. I have been think- 
 ing of your affairs for months past, and have designed 
 some profitable work for you on shore."
 
 370 IN 7 HE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! I should be about as handy on shore as a 
 working bullock would be on a ship's deck," said Frank. 
 " What useful landsman's work could I turn my hand 
 to, I'd like to know ?" 
 
 " I am just going to tell you, so listen patiently. But 
 first of all let me explain, that my solicitor has bought 
 an annuity of ;i6^300, on. the joint lives of yourself and 
 your dear wife. That will be enough to keep you com- 
 fortably on shore. Stay, Frank ! don't interrupt me 
 again till you have heard what I have to say. It is no 
 use for you to say yoa won't accept it, for the contract 
 is made, so neither of us can alter it now. I consider 
 it is the least I can do for you after all the help you 
 have aftbrdcd me, in various ways. Come, don't be 
 obstinate, there's a good fellow ! Hearken, while I 
 suggest some useful employment for you, that I have 
 been thinking of very carefully. You say you want to 
 be at work, and you will surely find plenty to do if you 
 agree to my proposal, which is that yoii should go out 
 as a missionary to " 
 
 "A missionary!" interposed Frank, in amazement. 
 
 " Yes, a missionary to the sailors about the docks and 
 back streets of London. .No man knows better than 
 you do the perilous temptations which specially beset 
 poor seamen, so you can sympathise and advise with 
 them, perhaps more effectively than a clergyman could." 
 
 "Are you really in earnest, Mr. Marshall .■'" 
 
 " Thoroughly so, Frank. The idea suggested itself 
 to me after hearing of some of the happy effects of 
 your simple discourse to those young village girls in 
 the hop-grounds. You remember it. It has occurred 
 to me that if you had a sort of roving commission to go 
 about doing good, you may find many persons willing 
 to listen to you who would perhaps sheer off if a
 
 FRANK'S NEW MISSION. 371 
 
 minister were to hail them. If you should be the means 
 of rescuing even one poor mortal from the downward 
 road to ruin, it will be a more profitable use of your 
 time than if you were to go to sea and earn money 
 enough to build a small fleet of ships of your own. But 
 I believe you may benefit hundreds, perhaps thousands, 
 who are now staggering their way to the grave, ignorant 
 and heedless of what will befal them in the life beyond. 
 I should like you also to carry a little money in your 
 pocket to lay out for me, whenever you meet with cases 
 of real distress in your daily rambles. Briefly, that is- 
 the life-work I propose for you, Frank. Are you willing 
 to go at it.?" 
 
 "Ay, ay, Ben ; I'm willing to do anything that you 
 may cut out for me, on sea or on shore, in all weathers ; 
 but am I able for this missionary work } that's the 
 point." 
 
 " Of yourself you can do nothing. You have often 
 admitted that to me ; but you know whom to apply to 
 for help and wisdom and guidance," said Ben reverently. 
 
 "That's true, I was forgetting my sheet anchor for a 
 minute. Paul said, * I can do all things through Christ 
 who strengtheneth me ' ; and in reliance on the same 
 almighty strength and help, I can do wonders. I am 
 ready to go to work as soon as you like ; and I shall 
 never be weary of telling what the Lord has done for 
 me. Yo ho ! shipmates ahoy ! " added Frank, in his 
 quarter-deck tones, as he started to his feet, " Shipmates 
 ahoy ! haul in your weather main-braces, and heave to ! 
 I am coming on board to pilot you all into the smooth 
 waters of salvation ! Oh, Ben ! I feel as happy as a 
 man-o'-war commander who has just released hundreds 
 of poor negroes from the hold of a slave ship. Give mc 
 your hand ! I accept your plan with all my heart."
 
 37^ 
 
 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 A long discussion on ways and means ensued. Ben 
 sueeested that Frank should offer his services to the com- 
 mittee of the "Missions to Seamen", {see Appendix), 
 which is doing such a noble work in London and else- 
 where ; but Frank would not consent to that. He said 
 it would be presumptuous for him to volunteer for work 
 of which he had no experience, and he might only be 
 getting in the way of a better man. An old soldier 
 might as well apply for a berth as captain of a mail 
 steamer. He would rather go about the docks and 
 streets on his own account, as a sort of gleaner in the 
 ereat harvest-field. He would be careful not to interfere 
 with the work of the regularly appointed missionaries, 
 but no doubt he would find a few needy fellows, now 
 and then, whom he could help with a few cheering 
 words or a shilling or two. 
 
 Two days afterwards Frank went to London, and 
 began his work of benevolence, and his good wife en- 
 couraged him in every way in her power. He kept a 
 diary — or log, as he called it — which he occasionally sent 
 to his good friend Ben, at Ncwby Hall, who continued 
 to take a lively interest in Frank's work. Though the 
 diary was written with modest brevity, it. showed that 
 its owner had been pretty constantly employed, and 
 that his heart was in his work. Frank soon became as 
 well known about some of the docks in London as the 
 late Rev. Nathaniel Pidgcon, or the late Mr. Stephen 
 Robens, were known a few years ago about " The 
 Rocks," in Sydney. I\Iany poor wandering sailors and 
 others have had good cause to be grateful for the Chris- 
 tian counsel and material help they received from honest 
 Frank Shorter. When he died there were many real 
 mourners at his funeral from the waifs and strays of the 
 streets. In accordance with his dying wish, his wife,
 
 TV/DO IF BRUCE'S ''LUCKY BAG.' 37 
 
 0/ J 
 
 with unvarying punctuality and Christian zeal, con- 
 tinued, as long as she lived, to carry on a gratuitous 
 Sunday breakfast for the poor, which her beloved 
 husband had initiated, and which she had always 
 helped him to manage. She was a help-mate indeed ! 
 
 Widow Bruce continued to live in her old house for 
 several years; and, as she had no shop to mind, she 
 used to employ herself in visiting the sick and afflicted 
 in the neighbourhood. Ben kept her liberally supplied 
 with pocket money, so she was able to dispense material 
 comforts, as well as religious consolation and instruction, 
 to many poor families, and she became quite influential 
 and popular, especially with the children, who used among 
 themselves to call her reticule " the lucky bag." No 
 reasoning could induce her to give up her old home in 
 Back Street, though she used to visit Newby Hall every 
 year and stay a few weeks. She died in the same room 
 that her dear lamented daughter died in, and she was 
 buried beside her daughter's grave. The dear old lady 
 was well prepared for death, so there can be no doubt 
 that she has joined her lost ones in heaven. 
 
 During his grandmother's illness which preceded her 
 death, Ben often visited her at her home. The inhabi- 
 tants of Back Street did not show any desire to molest 
 him in any way ; on the contrary, they treated him with 
 marked respect or deference. Perhaps some of the old 
 grumblers whispered together, as he passed down the 
 street, that they knew him when he was not worth a 
 shilling, for that is the way of the world, but as their 
 gossip did not reach his ears, he was not affected by it. 
 Some of the needy ones had good cause to be grateful 
 for his kindly help ; and he also placed many poor boys 
 and girls into positions for making their way up in life. 
 He also amply provided for Joey Finch. As Mrs.
 
 374 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 Bruce's funeral cortege passed down Back Street on 
 the way to Hackney Churchyard, there were many 
 weeping eyes looknig at it ; and one old man, from his 
 doorway, remarked to his next neighbour, " There goes 
 the remains of an honest woman," I had almost omitted 
 to state, that Frank Shorter did not forget the kindness 
 of his good friend Captain Harden ; and through Ben's 
 help, he made a comfortable provision for the captain 
 and his wife as long as they lived. 
 
 It was some months before Ben ventured to look at 
 the mysterious manuscript, so often alluded to, but at 
 length he did muster courage to glance through it. It 
 was a sort of autobiography of his late father, and was 
 evidently written with the hope of softening his parents 
 towards him. While he confessed to many wrong do- 
 ings, which were too patent to be denied, he strove to 
 palliate them ; and finally he expressed a determination 
 to reform his life, if he could be assured of the forgiveness 
 of his parents, and be favoured with a little pecuniary 
 help from them. It was a sad history of a wasted life. 
 Alas ! there are many such sad histories to be read 
 almost every day in the police courts or in the criminal 
 assize reports. 
 
 I shall not attempt the sombre task of explaining the 
 whole of the manuscript. The tin box contained foreign 
 bonds to the value of nine thousand pounds, which 
 young Marshall had stolen from his father. In order 
 to negotiate them it was necessary to add forgery to 
 theft. He had done so to some extent, but dreading 
 detection, he buried 'the box containing the remainder 
 of the bonds in Fitzroy Gardens. From a private source 
 ]?cn subsequently learnt more particulars of his un- 
 happy father's career than his own writing divulged. It 
 appeared that after leaving California, he, under an
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MANUSCRIPT. 375 
 
 assumed name, visited several of the gold-diggings in 
 Victoria ; but his occupation was gambling rather than 
 digging for honest gold, and his life was one of reckless 
 dissipation. In his manuscript he confessed to having 
 sadly . misbehaved himself at Ballarat in a season of 
 weakness. What that particular misbehaviour was need 
 not be specified ; but the law called it by a harsher 
 name, and detective officers were set on the track of the 
 felon, who, if found, would probably have been hanged. 
 To escape them Marshall tramped overland to Sydney, 
 and endured many privations and trials by the way, 
 which he graphically described. In his earlier manhood 
 he had kept a fine yacht at Southampton, so he knew 
 enough of seamanship to hire as ordinary seaman on 
 board the Wolf. The rest of his miserable history is 
 known to the reader. "The way of transgressors is 
 hard." 
 
 One day Ben and his sister were gazing fondly on the 
 portrait of their late lamented grandmother, in the pic- 
 ture gallery at Newby Hall, and talking, as they often 
 did, of her amiable qualities. They did not often look 
 at the next portrait, which was that of their father, and 
 had been hung there at his mother's request. But on 
 that day Edith happened to glance at it, and she re- 
 marked to Ben, in a subdued tone, " I never observed 
 that peculiar writing before, did you, dear } " 
 
 Ben looked attentively at a scrawly sentence at the 
 foot of the picture, and then he said : " I never noticed 
 it before, love. Perhaps Fred wrote it ; but it docs not 
 look like his writing. I'll go and ask him ; he is in the 
 library." 
 
 Mr. Mosely said he had not written anything on the 
 picture, nor had he seen the writing before. The ser-
 
 376 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 vants were closely questioned on the subject, but each 
 one denied all knowledge of it. Who the writer was 
 remained thereafter a mystery, but there was the in- 
 scription in black letters, dimly legible, " BURIED IN 
 THE Sea." 
 
 The End. 
 
 ^U <
 
 APPENDIX. 
 " Missions to Seamen." 
 
 Some time ago, I received by post a small book, en- 
 titled " Lay work in the Merchant Navy." It is 
 published by the committee of the " Missions to Sea- 
 men," Buckingham Street, Strand, London. It com- 
 prises an excellent essay (written by Captain F. B, 
 Hopkins, of the S.S. Emnore), to which the Brassey 
 prize of twenty-five pounds was worthily awarded. The 
 book also comprises another excellent essay (written by 
 Mrs. Ferguson, of the ship Sultana). On the page of 
 the latter essay is printed, " The adjudicators of the 
 Brassey prize held this essay to be so admirable, that 
 the Earl of Aberdeen presented the writer with a 
 travelling clock, and the committee of the "Missions to 
 Seamen " decided to publish this paper also, for the 
 information of the officers of the mercantile marine." 
 
 I believe I am indebted to an old Australian friend 
 (the captain of a ship) for the little volume, the perusal 
 of which has interested me very much. I can hardly 
 decide which essay I like best until I read them again, 
 but I can most heartily recommend each of them. I 
 hope they will be extensively read, and that they will 
 induce an increased practical sympathy with the good 
 cause of Seamen's Missions. 
 
 As I stood for a few minutes lately on the paved 
 space in front of the Royal Exchange, London, my 
 memory recalled the frosty morning, in the days of my 
 youth, forty-seven years ago, when I stood somewhere 
 about the same spot and gazed at the smoking ruins of 
 
 377
 
 378 IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA. 
 
 the old Exchange buildnig, which had been destroyed 
 by fire on the previous night. My mind seemed to 
 roll back through the intervening years, and over 
 more than a hundred thousand miles of ocean that I 
 had traversed, and I reflected how very much I was 
 indebted to the skill and bravery of seamen, that I stood 
 there a living man, reading, with reverential pride, the 
 motto or sacred text which the merchants of the great 
 city of London have inscribed on the fagade of their 
 Exchange building, " The earth is the Lord's, and the 
 fulness thereof." I wished it were practicable for me 
 to say a few kindly words, which would reach the hearts 
 of the shipowners and underwriters, who do business 
 beneath that roof all the year round — to tell them some 
 of my varied experiences of life on shipboard, or 
 express merely a few of my practical ideas on the 
 general interests of seamen. I do believe that my words 
 would in some degree be helpful to " Poor Jack," in 
 inducing more care for his social comforts and for his 
 religious privileges when at sea. • 
 
 I am very thankful to be able to testify, from personal 
 knowledge, that there arc many good captains afloat, 
 who are as earnest for the religious and social welfare of 
 their men as the writer of essay Number One, and some 
 good women afloat too, as kindly zealous for seamen's 
 best interests as the writer of essay Number Two. May 
 their numbers increase ! Oh, that every ship sailing out 
 of our English ports, all the world over, had men or 
 women on board who by their lives confess that " The 
 earth is. the Lord's," and who gladly show the " side- 
 lights " of Christianity wherever they go ! Then the 
 glorious, promised time would soon dawn, when "The 
 earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the 
 waters cover the sea." 
 
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