Rivers of Ice. Robert Michael Ballantyne

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      Lawrence shook his head sadly and said she was no better, and that he feared she had little chance of getting better while her dissipated son dwelt under the same roof with her. “It is breaking her heart,” he added, “and, besides that, the nature of her disease is such that recovery is impossible unless she is fed on the most generous diet. This of course she cannot have, because she has no means of her own. Her son gambles away nearly all his small salary, and she refuses to go to an hospital lest her absence should be the removal of the last restraining link between him and destruction. It is a very sad case—very.”

      Captain Wopper was struck with this reference to gambling coming so soon after his recent conversation on that subject, and asked if there were no charitable societies or charitable people in London who would help in a case so miserable.

      Yes, there were plenty of charitable institutions, Lawrence told him, but he feared that this woman had no special claim on any of them, and her refusal to go to an hospital would tell against her. There were also, he said, plenty of charitable people, but all of those he happened to be acquainted with had been appealed to by him so often that he felt ashamed to try them again. He had already given away as much of his own slender means as he could well spare, so that he saw no way out of the difficulty; but he had faith in Providential supervision of human affairs, and he believed that a way would yet be opened up.

      “You’re right, sir—right,” said Captain Wopper, with emphasis, while he looked earnestly into the face of the young doctor. “This world wasn’t made to be kicked about like a foot-ball by chance, or circumstances, or anything of the sort. Look ’ee here, sir; it has bin putt into my heart to feel charitable leanings, and a good bit o’ cash has bin putt into my pocket, so that, bein’ a lone sort o’ man, I don’t have much use for it. That’s on the one hand. On the other hand, here are you, sir, the son of a friend o’ my chum Willum Stout, with great need of aid from charitable people, an’ here we two are met together—both ready for action. Now, I call that a Providential arrangement, so please putt me down as one of your charitable friends. It’s little I can boast of in that way as yet but it’s not too late to begin. I’ve long arrears to pull up, so I’ll give you that to begin with. It’ll help to relieve Mrs Leven in the meantime.”

      As he spoke, the Captain drew a black pocketbook from his breast pocket and, taking a piece of paper therefrom, placed it in the doctor’s hands.

      “This is a fifty-pound note!” said Lawrence, in surprise.

      “Well, what then?” returned the Captain. “You didn’t expect a thousand-pound note, did you?”

      “Not quite that,” replied Lawrence, laughing, “but I thought that perhaps you had made a mistake.”

      “Ah! you judged from appearances, young man. Don’t you git into the way of doin’ that, else you’ll be for ever sailin’ on the wrong tack. Take my advice, an’ never look as if you thought a man gave you more than he could afford. Nobody never does that.”

      “Far be it from me,” returned Lawrence, “to throw cold water on generous impulses. I accept your gift with thanks, and will gladly put you on my list. If you should find hereafter that I pump you rather hard, please to remember that you gave me encouragement to do so.”

      “Pump away, sir. When you’ve pumped dry, I’ll tell you!”

      “Well,” said Lawrence, rising, “I’ll go at once and bring your liberality into play; and, since you have done me so good a turn, remember that you may command my services, if they can ever be of any use to you.”

      The Captain cast a glance at the trap-door and the chest.

      “Well,” said he, “I can scarcely ask you to do it professionally, but if you’d lend a hand to get this Noah’s ark o’ mine on to the upper deck, I’d—”

      “Come along,” cried Lawrence, jumping up with a laugh, and seizing one end of the “ark.”

      Captain Wopper grasped the other end, and, between them, with much puffing, pushing, and squeezing, they thrust the box through the trap to the upper regions, whither the Captain followed it by means of the same gymnastic feat that he performed on his first ascent. Thrusting his head down, he invited the doctor to “come aloft,” which the doctor did in the same undignified fashion, for his gentle manner and spirit had not debarred him from the practice and enjoyment of manly exercises.

      “It’s a snug berth, you see,” said the Captain, stumbling among the dusty lumber, and knocking his head against the beams, “wants cleaning up, tho’, and puttin’ to rights a bit, but I’ll soon manage that; and when I git the dirt and cobwebs cleared away, glass putt in the port-holes, and a whitewash on the roof and walls, it’ll be a cabin fit for an admiral. See what a splendid view of the river! Just suited to a seafarin’ man.”

      “Capital!” cried Lawrence, going down on his knees to obtain the view referred to. “Rather low in the roof, however, don’t you think?”

      “Low? not at all!” exclaimed the Captain. “It’s nothin’ to what I’ve been used to on the coastin’ trade off Californy. Why, I’ve had to live in cabins so small that a tall man couldn’t keep his back straight when he was sittin’ on the lockers; but we didn’t sit much in ’em; we was chiefly used to go into ’em to lie down. This is a palace to such cabins.”

      The doctor expressed satisfaction at finding that his new “charitable contributor” took such enlarged views of a pigeon-hole, and, promising to pay him another visit when the “cabin” should have been put to rights, said good-bye, and went to relieve the wants of the sick woman.

      As the captain accompanied him along the passage, they heard the voice and step of poor Mrs Leven’s dissipated son, as he came stumbling and singing up the stair.

      He was a stout good-looking youth, and cast a half impudent half supercilious look at Captain Wopper on approaching. He also bestowed a nod of careless recognition on Dr Lawrence.

      Thinking it better to be out of the way, the Captain said good-bye again to his friend, and returned to the cabin, where he expressed to Mrs Roby the opinion that, “that young feller Leven was goin’ to the dogs at railway speed.”

      Thereafter he went “aloft,” and, as he expressed it, “rigged himself out,” in a spruce blue coat with brass buttons; blue vest and trousers to match; a white dicky with a collar attached and imitation carbuncle studs down the front. To these he added a black silk neckerchief tied in a true sailor’s knot but with the ends separated and carefully tucked away under his vest to prevent their interfering with the effulgence of the carbuncle studs; a pair of light shoes with a superabundance of new tie; a green silk handkerchief, to be carried in his hat, for the purpose of mopping his forehead when warm, and a red silk ditto to be carried in his pocket for the benefit of his nose. In addition to the studs, Captain Wopper wore, as ornaments, a solid gold ring, the rude workmanship of which induced the belief that he must have made it himself, and a large gold watch, with a gold chain in the form of a cable, and a rough gold nugget attached to it in place of a seal or key. We class the watch among simple ornaments because, although it went—very demonstratively too, with a loud self-asserting tick—its going was irregular and uncertain. Sometimes it went too slow without apparent cause. At other times it went too fast without provocation. Frequently it struck altogether, and only consented to resume work after a good deal of gentle and persuasive threatening to wind it the wrong way. It had chronic internal complaints, too, which produced sundry ominous clicks and sounds at certain periods of the day. These passed off, however, towards evening. Occasionally such sounds rushed as it were into a sudden whirr and series of convulsions, ending in a dead stop, which was an unmistakeable intimation СКАЧАТЬ