Chapter 8

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_ CHAPTER EIGHT.

The "Ione" had been upwards of three years on the station, and of late the sick list had been greatly increased, still the commander persevered in his efforts to capture slavers; but the Arabs, grown cautious, managed to avoid him, and for some time not a single dhow had been taken.

One morning, as the ship lay becalmed on the shining ocean, with the sun's rays beaming down as from a furnace on the heads of the crew, the smoke of a steamer was seen coming from the southward. She rapidly approached, and coming nearer, made her number. She was a man-of-war. Had she came out to relieve the "Ione"? Every eye on board watched her eagerly. Stopping her way a boat was lowered; her commander came on board. No sooner were the contents of the despatch he brought known than cheers rose from fore and aft, joined in by the poor fellows in their hammocks. The "Ione" was to return home immediately. Before long a breeze sprang up, the two ships parted, and the corvette, under all sail, steered for the Cape.

"The only thing I regret is going home without nearing of young Garth," observed the commander, as he walked the deck with his first lieutenant; "I would have given much to find him, but I fear that when he fell into their hands, the rascally Arabs killed him."

"I am inclined to your notion, sir," answered Mr Hanson; "but I still have a lingering hope that by some means or other he may have escaped, although, as, notwithstanding all our inquiries and the rewards offered, no tidings of him had reached Zanzibar when we left the island, it is, I confess, very faint indeed."

Charley Meadows was the only person in the midshipmen's berth who would not abandon all expectation of again seeing his friend, and who would very gladly have remained another year on the station with the chance of hearing of Ned. He dreaded also the melancholy duty which might fall to his lot of informing Lieutenant Pack and Miss Sarah and sweet Mary of Ned's fate.

As the ship drew near England he thought over and over again of what he should say; no one had written, as the commander had been unwilling to alarm the boy's friends while any uncertainty existed. They would, therefore, on seeing the announcement in the papers of the "Ione's" return, be looking out eagerly for him. The corvette had a rapid passage, and on reaching Portsmouth was at once paid off. Charley Meadows had written to his father, who was still commander of the coast-guard station at Longview, giving an account of what had occurred, and begging him to break the intelligence to Lieutenant Pack. As soon as he was at liberty he hurried home. One of the first questions he put on his arrival was, "Have you told them, father, about poor Ned?"

"No; for I only received your letter yesterday, and have been unable to get over and see our friends. It will be sad news to them. Whenever I have called on Pack and his sister, their nephew was always the subject of their conversation."

Charley thus found that, after all, he must be the first to carry the sad intelligence to his friends. He, however, possessed the most valuable description of courage; he was morally, as well as physically, brave. The duty had to be performed, and he resolved to do it forthwith. As his father could not go, he set out by himself. Now and then he stopped to consider what he should say, and then hurried on, wishing to say it at once. Just before he reached Triton Cottage, he saw Mr Pack coming along the road; the old lieutenant stopped and looked at Charley as he approached, putting out his hand.

"Glad to welcome you, my lad. I saw that the 'Ione' had arrived and was to be paid off, so was looking out for you; but where is Ned? I thought you would have come down together."

Now came the moment Charley had dreaded.

"I will tell you how it happened, sir, directly, but Ned is not with us. I don't believe he is lost, and no one saw him dead; but the Arabs got hold of him, and he has not since turned up."

"What! hasn't he come home with you?" exclaimed the lieutenant. "You don't mean to say that our Ned is dead?"

"No, sir; but he's lost, and we don't know what has become of him," and Charley then gave a full account of all that had occurred.

The old lieutenant listened attentively. "Poor Sally! poor Mary!" he murmured, as, leaning on Charley's shoulder, he walked back to the house. "It will well-nigh break their hearts to hear that he is dead, but I for one won't believe it; I tell you, Meadows, I can't believe it," his voice growing more husky as he spoke. "I expect to see Ned a commander before I die; he is sure to get on in the service. Sally won't believe it either; she's got too much good sense for that. Come along, however, you shall tell her and Mary about it, for I have not taken in all the particulars."

The lieutenant stumped on, but Charley felt the hand which rested on his shoulder press more and more heavily. They together entered the parlour, where Miss Sarah and Mary were seated.

"Ned, Ned!" cried Miss Sally, mistaking him for her nephew; but she quickly saw her mistake, while Mary knew him at once.

"Where is Ned?" they both inquired, after they had shaken hands, Mary looking up into his face with an inquiring glance.

"He hasn't come home with us," said Charley, "and Mr Pack will tell you what I have told him."

The lieutenant was glad of this opportunity to give his own version of the story, for he was afraid Charley would alarm his sister and Mary.

"You see Ned's not come home in the 'Ione,' and that's a disappointment, I'll own. That he is all right I have no doubt, somewhere out in Africa among some Arabs who got hold of him while performing his duty--you may be sure Ned would be always doing that--and he hasn't yet been able to make his way down to the coast, or at all events to get on board an English ship. He'll do so by-and-by though. You two must not fret about him in the meantime. I know what Ned's made of; he has a fine constitution, and is not likely to succumb to the climate; and as to the Arabs, except in the matter of slavery, they are not a bad set of fellows."

Thus the lieutenant ran on, until Miss Sarah, turning to Charley, asked him to give a more particular account. This he did, omitting no circumstance which might support the idea that Ned had escaped.

Miss Sarah every now and then interrupted him with an ejaculation or a question, but poor Mary sat looking very pale and anxious, with her eyes fixed upon his countenance all the time and not uttering a word. Tom Baraka had seen Charley arrive with the lieutenant, and guessing that he had belonged to the "Ione," and had brought news of Ned, waited outside, hoping to learn from him why Ned had not come home. At length, however, unable to endure the suspense, he took the privilege of a favoured servant and came into the room.

"You come from de 'Ione,' massa?" he said, looking at Charley. "Pray tell me why Massa Ned not come back. Hab him gone in nudder ship?"

Charley, who remembered Tom, briefly told him the particulars of Ned's disappearance.

"Den I go an' look for him!" exclaimed Tom. "He go search for my boy, what I do better dan go look for him?"

"O do, do!" cried Mary, springing up. "I would go too if I could be of any use."

"You do not know the character of the country, Miss Mary," said Charley; "but if Tom would go, if he escapes being caught by the Arabs, he would have a better chance of finding him than any one else. How to get there would be the difficulty, unless he could obtain a passage on board a man-of-war going out to the coast."

"Yes, yes, I go!" cried Tom; "I find a way, nebber fear."

"We must think the matter over, and consider what can be done," said the lieutenant. "Ask your father, Charley, to come here and give me the benefit of his advice, and I will write to Hanson, they'll have his address at the Admiralty, and he will come down here and tell us what he thinks best, or I'll go up to London myself and see their lordships. They would not wish a promising young officer to be lost without taking all possible steps for his recovery."

Charley's spirits rose as he found his friends even more sanguine than himself as to the finding of Ned. They talked on and on without any material alteration in their proposed plan. The lieutenant said that he would write to Mr Farrance, as in duty bound, to tell him of Ned's disappearance, and to ask his advice. "He has the means of helping us, and judging from the generous way in which he has acted towards Ned, I feel sure that we can rely on him," he observed.

Charley went back with a message to his father, who came over that evening, and the subject was again discussed in all its bearings, indeed the old lieutenant could think and talk of nothing else. He had, in the meantime, despatched his letters to Mr Farrance and the late first lieutenant of the "Ione," and determined, by the advice of Mr Meadows, to take no steps until he heard from them.

The next day Charley again came over, and greatly interested Mary and her aunt by the account he gave of their adventures in the Indian Ocean. He inspired Mary with a strong wish to see the horrible traffic in slaves put an end to.

"If I had a fortune I would devote it to that object," she exclaimed enthusiastically. "What sufferings the poor little children have to endure; and then the agony of their parents as they are dragged off from their homes to die on their way to the sea, or on board those horrible dhows, or to be carried into slavery, which must be worse than death."

Her remarks had greater influence on Charley than even the miserable state of the slaves on board the dhows had produced. "I will do all I can to try and get back to the coast as soon as possible, or if an expedition is formed to go up the country to look for Ned I'll get my father to allow me to join it; I am pretty well seasoned to the climate by this time--never had an hour's illness while I was away."

By return of post a letter was received from Mr Farrance. He sympathised with the lieutenant and his sister in their anxiety about their nephew; said that he would be glad to defray the expenses should any plan be formed for discovering him, and begged to see Mr Pack in town as soon as possible.

The old lieutenant accordingly at once made preparations for his journey. Fortunately, before he started, he received a letter from Mr Hanson, saying that in the course of three or four days he would come down.

"I shall be in time to stop him," observed the lieutenant, "and to talk the matter over with him before I see Mr Farrance, who will, of course, want all the information I can give him. I'll take Tom with me; he knows his own country, and his woolly pate contains as much good sense as many a white man's skull."

Tom could scarcely restrain the delight he felt on hearing of his master's decision.

"But who take care ob de house, de pigs, and de garden, and de poultry?" he exclaimed of a sudden, as if the idea had just struck him.

"The ladies and Jane will attend to them, and no one will think of robbing the house during our absence," was the answer.

The lieutenant and his black attendant set off the following morning and reached London in safety, arriving just in time to stop Mr Hanson from going down to Triton Cottage.

He doubted whether the Admiralty would consider themselves justified in sending out any special expedition, and they had already given directions to the vessels on the coast to make all inquiries in their power, but he thought that a private expedition such as his friend suggested might possibly succeed, although he was not very sanguine on the subject. Young Garth might possibly be alive, and until they had received proof positive of his death hope ought not to be abandoned. He was expecting his own promotion, but should he not obtain it, he should be ready to go out in command of a properly organised expedition. Trustworthy natives might be found, they were not all so black as generally described. A private vessel, which would remain on the coast while the expedition pushed inland, would entail considerable cost. Where were the funds to come from?

When the old lieutenant related Mr Farrance's offer to defray all expenses, his friend's countenance brightened.

"That alters the case; we will see him without delay, and if he has the means we are right to take advantage of his liberality," said Mr Hanson.

The two officers, therefore, accompanied by Tom Baraka, proceeded to the address of Mr Farrance in one of the fashionable parts of London. The old lieutenant was somewhat taken aback, as he expressed it, on finding himself in a handsome mansion, such as he had never before in his life entered; it appeared to him a perfect palace. He and his companion were at once ushered into a large study, where they found Mr Farrance, who, rising from his seat, welcomed them cordially. He expressed his sincere regret at hearing of the disappearance of his young friend, from whose commander, he said, he had received excellent accounts. "We must find him if he is to be found. What object the Arabs can have for keeping him in captivity, when a reward has been offered for his liberation, it is difficult to say. However, I am very glad to have the means of assisting to recover him."

Mr Farrance, after putting numerous questions to the two officers and Tom, observed, "We will consider the matter settled. I have two objects in view; besides the recovery of our young friend, I am sure the more the natives are brought into intercourse with white men who show that they come for the purpose of benefiting them, the sooner will the slave trade be put a stop to and the Arabs driven out of the country. Not until then will the negroes be able to enjoy the blessings of peace, and the possibility of advancing in civilisation and embracing the truths of Christianity. As you, Lieutenant Pack, know those seas and are willing to take charge of a vessel, I shall be glad to obtain for you the command of one suited for the purpose; and I conclude, as you would find it inconvenient to travel--indeed you should not make the attempt--you would remain on board while the rest of the party penetrate into the interior. You, I dare say, Mr Hanson, can get some trustworthy men among your late crew to accompany you; but we must rely chiefly on the natives for furnishing a sufficient force."

Mr Hanson was delighted with the readiness shown by Mr Farrance to forward their object, and he and his brother officer at once promised to under take the arrangement of an expedition.

"No time then must be lost," replied Mr Farrance. "I give you and Lieutenant Pack authority to obtain such a vessel as you consider fit for the purpose, and to engage a crew for her, and companions for your land journey. You will, I conclude, select a small craft which can keep close in with the coast or run up rivers, as every mile you can go by water will save you so much, or probably a still greater distance of land journey."

Further arrangements having been made, the two officers and Tom Baraka took their departure, promising to report progress.

Mr Hanson was not a man to let the grass grow under his feet, and the old lieutenant was even more eager than his friend to get under weigh.

Within three days they paid another visit to Mr Farrance. They had purchased a schooner of about 150 tons, which had once been a yacht--a fast craft. Hands had been engaged, chiefly from the crew of the "Ione"; three men from Cowes accustomed to fore and aft vessels, one of whom was to act as mate. The fitting out of the schooner would be an easy matter, but the preparations for the land journey required more time and consideration. The only two people who had as yet undertaken to go were Charley Meadows and Tom Baraka. Two stout Africans who had lately arrived in England on board a ship from India, and who stated that when boys they had been captured on the east coast, but had escaped from Madagascar, to which island they had been carried, to an English merchantman, appeared well suited for the undertaking. Mr Hanson was only waiting until he could hear more about them.

Being satisfied with their testimonials he engaged them, and the next day, as he was prosecuting his search in the neighbourhood of the docks, he met with an Arab and three Lascars, of whom, on inquiry of the masters of the ships who brought them home, he obtained a favourable report. The Lascars were brave and useful fellows, while the Arab spoke English fairly, and he had already penetrated some way into the interior of Africa.

Both officers, assisted by Charley Meadows, who had been sent for, were engaged from morning until night in superintending the preparations. The old lieutenant when he quitted home had expected to return, but as the "Hope" was ready for sea, he changed his purpose and wrote to his sister explaining his reasons.

"I don't want to go through another parting, Sally," he said. "You know I love you and Mary with all my heart, but that heart is not so tough as it ought to be perhaps, and I could not bear saying 'good-bye' again, when I have said it already, although I didn't think it was for long. If Ned is found, and I make no doubt about the matter, we shall have, I pray God, a happy meeting, and I expect to find Mary grown at least an inch taller, tell her. Don't either of you fret; whatever happens all will be for the best--of that you may be sure. Should it please Him who governs all things to call me away--and I do not shut my eyes to the possibility--you will find my will in my desk. I have provided, as far as I can, for you and Mary."

This letter was received the very morning the "Hope" was to sail. It caused considerable disappointment to Aunt Sally and Mary, but they could not help confessing that after all it was for the best.

"My good brother always acts wisely," said Aunt Sally. "It would have cost us a good deal to say 'good-bye,' when we knew he was going away to that terrible country Africa!"

"Perhaps the 'Hope' will come off here," observed Mary; "we shall then see uncle and Tom Baraka, and perhaps Mr Hanson and Charley, and be able to send messages by them to Ned. As they sailed this morning, they may be off here in a couple of days."

Mary, as may be supposed, kept a constant look-out through the lieutenant's telescope, but time went by and no schooner appeared. Some days afterwards a letter, which had been landed by a pilot vessel, brought information that the "Hope" was already in the chops of the channel and all well. Aunt Sally and Mary at first felt a great blank in their existence. The lieutenant's cheery voice was no longer heard, and his chair stood vacant at their daily meals, while, instead of the master, Miss Sally led the morning and evening prayer to the diminished household. Tom Baraka's merry laugh was also missed, for in spite of his one absorbing thought, he was merry when he gave way to his natural disposition.

Aunt Sally and Mary did not, however, neglect their usual avocations. They had plenty of work now that Jane had not time to assist them.

The garden had to be attended to, and they persevered in their visits to the neighbouring poor. Mary very frequently went to see Mr Shank. The old man received her with more apparent gratitude than he used before to exhibit, and willingly listened when she read to him. He was evidently deeply interested in the account she gave him of the expedition in search of Ned, as also when she repeated the information she had received from Charley Meadows about Africa and the slave trade.

"Terrible, terrible," he muttered, "that men should sell each other for gold and produce all this suffering, and yet--" he was silent and seemed lost in thought. Mary did not for some minutes again speak. She then continued--

"It is the duty of all who have the means to try and put a stop to this fearful state of things, and to assist in sending missionaries of the Gospel and artisans to teach Christianity to the poor blacks, and to instruct them in the useful arts of civilised life."

"The Government should do that," said Mr Shank. "We pay them taxes."

"The Government do their part by sending out ships-of-war to stop the dhows and the Arabs who steal the slaves, making the trade so difficult and dangerous a one that many will be compelled to give it up--so uncle says--and what more than that can the Government do? Private people must carry on the rest of the work, and a more noble and glorious one I am sure cannot be found. If I had ever so much money, I should like to spend it in that way."

"But you would get no interest, you would see no result," said the old man.

Mary pointed to the Bible she had brought, and from which she had previously been reading. "There is a verse there which tells us that we are to lay up riches in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through and steal," she answered in an unaffected tone. "I should not expect interest, and I am very sure that I should be satisfied with the result."

The old man again mused, this time far longer than before. "And so you want to make Christians and civilised men of those black Africans of whom you spoke?" he observed.

"Yes; it is the only way to make them become happy here and happy hereafter," she said, energetically. "I am sure of it. If all the money that is hoarded up or spent uselessly were devoted to such a work, how soon might the condition of the unfortunate negroes be changed for the better."

"Then do you blame those who hoard up money?" asked the old man.

"Yes, indeed I do. I think they are wicked, very wicked, and are not making a good use of the talents committed to them. They are just as wicked as those who throw it away or spend it badly."

"You are a severe censor, Miss Mary," said the old man. "But you are right, very right." He placed his hand on his brow.

Mary took her leave, feeling more drawn towards Mr Shank than she had ever before been, he seemed so softened and so sad, and very much weaker than he had before appeared.

Mary told her aunt.

"He suffers from want of food," observed Miss Sally. "You shall go again to-morrow and take him another pudding, and say that I will send one for him, if he wishes it, every day."

Mary reached Mr Shank's door. She heard him feebly approaching to withdraw the bolts; as soon as he had done so, he tottered back, panting, to his seat.

"I am glad you have come, Mary, or I might have been found stiff and cold on my bed. I am very ill, I fear, for I have never felt before as I do now," he said, in so low and trembling a voice that Mary had to draw closer to hear him.

She begged him to eat the food she had brought, hoping that it might restore his strength. He followed her advice, lifting the spoon slowly to his mouth.

After he had finished the food he appeared somewhat stronger.

"Thank you, Mary," he said. "I owe you a great deal more than I can now tell you, for I have something else to say. I want you to bring me a lawyer, an honest man, if such is to be found, and his clerk must come to witness my signature. I'll try to keep alive until he arrives, for, Mary, do you know I think that I am dying."

"O no, I hope not, Mr Shank. You are only weak from want of food," exclaimed Mary, who, however, was much alarmed. "I will go on to where Mr Thorpe lives, I know the way perfectly, and have heard uncle say that he is a good and honest man, and is trusted by all the people round."

"Go then, Mary, go!" said the old man. "Don't allow any one to stop you; and if Mr Thorpe is out, write a message requesting him to come on here immediately."

Mary, promising Mr Shank that she would obey his wishes, hastened away. She observed that he did not close the door behind her as usual. She found Mr Thorpe at home and gave her message.

"What! old Shank the miser? I suspect that he has something worth leaving behind," observed the lawyer. "I'll be with him immediately, depend on that. But how are you going to get back, young lady?"

"Oh, I can walk perfectly well," said Mary.

"No; let me drive you as far as old Shank's, and if you like to remain I will take you on to Triton Cottage. Miss Sally will not know what has become of you."

Mary was glad to accept this offer, and the lawyer's gig being brought round, she took her seat between him and his clerk.

"I will wait outside," she said when they reached Mr Shank's door. "I can look after your horse and see it doesn't run away, for Mr Shank may have something particular to tell you which he might not wish me to hear."

The lawyer, appreciating Mary's delicacy, agreed, though he did not give her the charge of his horse, as the animal was well accustomed to stand with its head fastened to a paling while he visited his clients. Mary waited and waited, sometimes walking about, at others standing beside the gig, or sitting on the hillside, on the very spot which had often been occupied by Ned. Her thoughts naturally flew away to him. Where could he be all this time? Would Mr Hanson and Charley discover him, or would they return without tidings of his fate?

The lawyer at last appeared, and, directing his clerk to return home with some papers he held in his hand, he begged Mary to get into the gig.

"I must run in to see old Mr Shank first," she said, "and learn if there is anything aunt or I can do for him."

"You will find him more easy in his mind than he was when I arrived; but in regard to assistance, he doesn't require it as much as you suppose. He has consented to let me send a doctor, and a respectable woman to attend on him. He is not in a fit state to be left by himself."

Mary was surprised at these remarks. Not wishing to delay the lawyer she hurried in. Mr Shank, who was still seated in his arm-chair, put out his shrivelled hand and clasped hers.

"Thank you, Mary, thank you!" he said. "You deserve to be happy, and Heaven will bless your kindness to a forlorn old man. I may live to see you again, but my days are numbered, whatever the lawyer may say to the contrary."

Mary explained that Mr Thorpe was waiting for her, and saying that she was glad to hear he was to have some one to attend on him, bade him good-bye.

During the drive to Triton Cottage the lawyer did not further allude to Mr Shank, and Mary very naturally forbore to question him.

Aunt Sally, who had become somewhat anxious at her long absence, was greatly surprised at seeing Mr Thorpe, and not being influenced by the same motive as Mary, inquired what the old man could possibly have desired to see him about.

"To make his will, Miss Sally," answered the lawyer; "it has been signed, sealed, and delivered in the presence of myself and John Brown, my clerk, and its contents are to remain locked in our respective breasts and my strong box until the due time arrives for its administration. That he has made a will argues that he has, as you may suppose, some property to leave, and that the people in our neighbourhood were not so far wrong in calling him a miser; but he has hoarded to some purpose, and I wish that all misers would leave their gold in as satisfactory a manner as he has done."

In vain Miss Sally endeavoured to elicit further information; the lawyer laughed and rubbed his hands, but not a word more could she get out of him than he chose to say. Then turning the subject, he steadily declined again entering on it, though he made himself agreeable by conversing in a cheerful tone on various others.

Mary's anxiety prompted her to visit Mr Shank the next day, and her aunt not objecting she set off by herself. A respectable-looking woman opened the door, and courtesied to her as she did so.

"How is Mr Shank?" asked Mary.

"He is not worse than he was yesterday; he has been asking for you ever so many times, miss, and has made me go to the door to see if you were coming. He'll be main glad to see you. I have been working hard to make the house look a little tidy, but it is in a sad mess; it is a wonder the whole of it didn't come down and crush the old man before this--"

The woman would have continued to run on in the same strain had not Mary begged to be allowed to enter. She found Mr Shank seated in his arm-chair, looking, as she thought, very pale and weak. He thanked her, much in his usual way, for again coming to see him, and for bringing him another of Miss Sally's puddings, but Mary remarked that he no longer spoke of his poverty.

"I wanted very much to see you, my dear," he said, in a gentle tone, which contrasted greatly with that in which he used formally to speak; "but I don't want listeners, Mrs Mason, I will request you to retire and busy yourself at the further end of the house, or out of doors."

The old woman looked somewhat astonished, but obeyed without replying.

Mary could not fail to be surprised at the tone of authority in which he spoke, as if he had been accustomed all his life to give directions to an attendant.

"Mary," he said, as he sat with his hands clasped, leaning back in his chair, and glancing half aside at her fair countenance, as if a feeling of shame oppressed him, "you have been my good angel. I owe you much, more than I can ever repay. Had it not been for you, I should have gone down to my grave a miserable, wretched being, with no one to care for me; but you awoke me to a sense of better things. I have not always been as I am now, but care and disappointment came upon me, and those I loved were lost through my fault, by my hard treatment. I see it now, but I thought then they were alone to blame. I once had wealth, but it was dissipated almost, not all, and I feared lest the remainder would be lost; then I became what you have known me, a wretched, grovelling miser. I had a daughter, she was young and fair, and as bright as you are, but she desired to live as she had been accustomed to, not aware of my losses, and I stinted her of everything except the bare necessaries of life. She had many admirers: one of them was wealthy, but Fanny regarded him with dislike; the other, a fine youth, was, I thought, penniless. She returned his affection, and I ordered him never again to enter my doors. My child bore my treatment meekly, but one day she came into my presence, and in a calm but firm voice said she would no longer be a burden to me; that she was ready to toil for my support were it requisite, but that she was well aware that I was possessed of ample means to obtain the comforts as well as the necessaries of life. Enraged, I ordered her, with a curse, to quit my house, declaring that I would never see her again. She obeyed me too faithfully, and became the young man's wife, and she and her husband left England. I heard shortly afterwards that the ship in which they sailed had been wrecked. That such was the case I had every reason to believe as from that day I lost all trace of them. Hardhearted as I was, I believed that my child had met her just doom for the disobedience into which I myself had driven her, and having no one to care for, I sank into the wretched object you found me. You will think of me, Mary, with pity rather than scorn when I am gone?"

"Do not speak so, Mr Shank; I have long, long pitied you," said Mary, soothingly. "You are not what you were; you mourn your past life, and you know the way by which you can be reconciled to a merciful God."

The old man gazed at her fair countenance. "No other human being could have moved me but you," he said; "you reminded me from the first of my lost child, and I listened to you as I would have listened to no one else. Bless you! bless you!"

Mary had already spent a longer time than she had intended listening to the old man's history. She rose to go away. He kept her small hand in his shrivelled palms.

"I should wish my last gaze on earth to be on your face, Mary; I should die more easily, and yet I do not fear death as I once did when I strove to put away all thoughts of it. I know it must come before long; it may be days, or weeks, and you will then know how my poor wretched heart has loved you."

Mary, not understanding him, answered--

"You have shown me that already, Mr Shank, and I hope you may be spared to find something worth living for."

"Yes, if I had health and strength I should wish to assist in benefiting those poor Africans of whom you have so often told me, and putting an end to the fearful slave trade; but I cannot recall my wasted days, and I must leave it to you, Mary. If you have the means to try and help them, you will do so, I know, far better than I can."

"I shall be thankful if I can ever benefit the poor Africans," said Mary, smiling at what appeared to her so very unlikely. "But I must stop no longer, or Aunt Sally will fancy that some harm has befallen me."

Mary wished him good-bye, summoning Mrs Mason as she went out.

On Mary's return to Triton Cottage she found Lieutenant Meadows, who had come to wish her and her aunt good-bye, his turn of service on the coast-guard having expired.

He inquired whether they had received any news of the "Hope."

"She must have been round the Cape long ago. Hanson and his people should by this time have landed, so that you would get letters from the Cape, or perhaps even from Zanzibar, in the course of a week or two. You will write to me and say what news you receive in case Charley's letters should miscarry." Miss Sally promised, without fail, to write as Mr Meadows requested, and he gave her his address. When he was gone, Miss Sally and Mary had no one to talk to on the subject nearest their hearts. They discussed it over and over again by themselves, in spite of Aunt Sally's declaration that it was of no use, and that they had better not speak about the matter; yet she was generally the first to begin, and Mary would bring out the map, and they both would pore over it, the elder lady through her spectacles, as if they could there discover by some magical power where Ned was, and the point the "Hope" had reached. They were cheerful and happy, though nothing occurred to vary the monotony of their everyday life, until the post one morning brought a letter addressed to Miss Sarah Pack.

"Whom can it be from?" she exclaimed, adjusting her spectacles. "It is not from my brother; it bears only the English post mark. Give me my scissors, Mary." And she deliberately cut it open, though not the less eager to know its contents.

Mary watched her as she read, holding the letter up to the light, and murmuring, "Astonishing!"

"Very strange!"

"I cannot understand it!"

"And yet not impossible!"

"I don't know whether I ought to tell you the contents of this," she said, after she had read it twice over; "it may agitate you, my dear Mary, and raise expectations only to be disappointed. It is from Mr Farrance, and a very singular story he gives me."

These remarks could not fail to arouse Mary's curiosity.

"Is it about Ned? Has he been found? Is he coming back?" she exclaimed, her hand trembling in an unusual manner as she was about to pour out a cup of tea for her aunt.

"No, he does not give us any news of Ned. The letter has reference to you. I ought not to wish that anything to your advantage should not happen, but yet I almost dread lest Mr Farrance's expectations should be realised."

"Oh, do tell me, aunt, what Mr Farrance says!" exclaimed Mary. "I will nerve myself for whatever it may be; but I cannot even guess."

"Have you no suspicion on the subject?" asked Miss Sally, after a few moments' silence.

"None whatever," answered Mary.

Miss Sally looked at her earnestly with eyes full of affection, and then said, speaking very slowly--

"You know, my dear Mary, how my brother found you and Tom Baraka floating on a piece of wreck in the Indian Ocean, and how neither you nor Tom were able to give any account of yourselves--he not understanding English, and you being too young to remember what had occurred. From the day my brother brought you home we have ever loved you dearly, and supposing that your parents perished, we believed that no one would appear to take you away from us."

"Yes, indeed, dear aunt, and I have never wished to leave you," said Mary, in a gentle tone. "If Mr Farrance wishes me to do so, pray tell him that it is impossible."

"There may be one who has a greater right to claim you than we have, and should he prove his claim, we should be unable to hold you from him."

"But how can any one have a claim upon me? I don't understand, aunt," said Mary, completely puzzled. "Pray tell me what Mr Farrance does say."

"You shall hear his letter, and then judge for yourself, my dear child," said Miss Sally, and again holding the letter before her spectacles, she read--

"My Dear Miss Pack,--I lose no time in informing you during your good brother's absence of a circumstance which may possibly greatly affect your young charge Mary. I must tell you that I had a brother who, at an early age, having married imprudently, left England, and that I and the rest of his family long supposed him dead. Two days ago a gentleman, who said that he had just returned to this country after having resided for many years in one of the Dutch East India settlements, called upon me. After some conversation he inquired whether I suspected who he was, and, greatly to my astonishment, he announced himself as my long-lost brother. He was so changed by time and a pestiferous climate, and sorrow and trials of all sorts, that I had a great difficulty in recognising him, though I was at length satisfied that he was my brother, and as such welcomed him home. While he was yesterday evening narrating the events of his life, he mentioned having sent his wife, whose health required a change of climate, and their only child, a little girl, on board a ship bound for the Cape of Good Hope, where a correspondent of his house had promised to receive them, but that the ship was lost and that all on board, it was believed, had perished. On hearing this it at once struck me as possible, and remember I say barely possible, that the child picked up by Lieutenant Pack might be my brother's daughter. On comparing dates I found, as nearly as I can calculate, that they agree. Of course I do not forget that there might have been several children of the same ago on board the ship. Even should the wreck Mr Pack fell in with have been a portion of the ill-fated ship, yet some other child instead of my brother's might have been saved. It would be difficult, but not impossible, to identify her. My brother is more sanguine than I am on the subject, and is anxious to come down with me as soon as his health will allow, if you will give us permission, to see your young charge. You may possibly have preserved the clothes she had on and any ornaments about her which might assist in her identification. Although my brother might not be able to recognise them, he tells me that a black girl, who was a nurse in his family and much attached to the child, is still alive, and he proposes to send for her immediately. He has married again and has a large family. Though Mary may be pleased to find that she has a number of brothers and sisters, her position as to fortune will not be greatly altered; however on that point she will not concern herself as much as you and others, her elders, may possibly do, and we will take care that she is not the loser should the hopes we entertain be realised.

"I have written this, my dear madam, as you ought to receive the earliest information on the subject, and because you may think fit to prepare your young charge for what may otherwise prove so startling to her; but I leave that to your judgment, and hoping in the course of a few days to see you,

"I remain,

"Yours faithfully,

"J. Farrance."

Mary sat for some minutes, her hands clasped and apparently lost in thought, then she burst into tears, exclaiming, "My poor, poor mother! I cannot help picturing her on the deck of the sinking ship, while the fierce waves were foaming around her until she was carried away and lost."

It was strange she did not think so much of her supposed father and the new brothers and sisters she might find. Miss Sally endeavoured to calm her.

"My dear, dear Mary, I ought not to have read this letter to you," she exclaimed, "you must try to forget it; but I am afraid that you will not do that, and we must endeavour to wait patiently until Mr Farrance and his brother appear. They may find that they are mistaken, and then you will still be my little niece, and as much loved as ever."

Mary soon grew calm, and tried to follow Miss Sally's advice by waiting patiently for the appearance of their expected visitors. We, in the meantime, must go to a far off part of the world. _

Read next: Chapter 9

Read previous: Chapter 7

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