The Greatest Sea Adventure Novels: 30+ Maritime Novels, Pirate Tales & Seafaring Stories. R. M. Ballantyne

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СКАЧАТЬ of other figures to this,—with an occasional word of assistance from Amy,—until the whole amounted to the sum of one hundred and thirty-three.

      “There,” said Mrs Foster, with a pleased expression, as she put the figures down, “now how many twelves are in that—eh? let me see. Twelve times twelve are a hundred and forty,—no, that’s too much; twelve times eleven—how much is twelve times eleven?”

      Mrs Foster did not ask this of Amy; no, she gazed up at the ceiling, where an uncommonly large spider was affixing its web,—with the design, no doubt, of lowering itself down to the tea-table,—and demanded the solution of the problem, apparently, from that creature.

      “I think it is a hundred and thirty-two, mamma,” said Amy, pouring out the tea.

      “Oh, of course, how stupid!” said Mrs Foster, who was quite struck with the obviousness of the fact—on being told it. “There now, that comes to eleven shillings and one penny, which settles the Soup Kitchen. One pound two does the Hospital for the Blind, and there’s one pound due to the Sailors’ Home. But still,” continued Mrs Foster, with a return of the perplexed expression, “that does not get me out of my difficulty.”

      “Come to tea, dear,” said Amy, “and we will try to clear it up together afterwards.”

      “Impossible, child. I could not eat with appetite while this is puzzling my brain. Let me see; there were fifteen pounds, apparently, spent last year, when I put it on paper, and yet here is a sovereign over,” said Mrs Foster, holding up the coin, and looking at it reproachfully, as if the blame lay with it and not with herself.

      “Well, mamma,” said Amy, laughing, “but where is your difficulty?”

      “Don’t you see, child? by rights I ought to give fifteen pounds away; well, my book tells me that fifteen pounds have been given, and yet here is a sovereign left over to give!”

      “Then don’t give it, mamma, just put it back into your purse, and that will make the thing right, won’t it?”

      “No, dear, it won’t, because, you see, the money must be right, so the book must be wrong; oh! here it is. I declare I have forgot to carry one. There, that’s right. Now, dear, we shall have tea.”

      It may be necessary to explain here, that although Amy called Mrs Foster “mamma,” she was in fact not related to her at all, being only an adopted daughter. Poor Amy Russell was a child of the sea.

      Two years previous to the time of which we write, she, with her father and mother, had been wrecked on the coast of Kent while returning from a long residence in New Zealand. Their vessel filled the moment she struck, and the seas buried the hull so completely that passengers and crew were obliged to take to the rigging. Here they remained all night exposed to the fury of the storm. Many of the unfortunates, unable to withstand the exposure of that terrible night, fell or were washed out of the rigging and perished. Among these were Amy’s father and mother. Amy herself was taken care of by the captain, with whom she was a great favourite, and, along with those who remained until the morning, was saved by one of the lifeboats stationed on that coast.

      They had a narrow escape from drowning even after being taken into the boat, for, just as they were approaching the entrance to the harbour, where crowds of the inhabitants of the town were anxiously watching them, a tremendous sea completely filled the boat, swept away the starboard oars, and carried several of the wrecked passengers overboard, Amy being one of them. This happened close under the head of the pier. All the passengers were recovered by the lifeboat’s crew in a few seconds, with the exception of Amy, who, being exhausted by previous exposure, began to sink at once. The boatmen, in the turmoil of raging water and howling wind, did not observe this, and a cry of consternation was uttered by the people on the pier, who saw the whole thing clearly from their elevated position; but the cry was either drowned by the noise of the tempest, or not understood by the boatmen.

      At that moment a tall stripling on the pier raced to the edge of it, shot like a rocket head-foremost into the sea, and in a second or two reappeared with the young girl in his arms. They were both dragged into the lifeboat, amid ringing cheers of delight and admiration.

      The stripling who did this brave deed was none other than our friend Guy Foster, who chanced to be lodging with his mother in the neighbouring town at that time. Guy insisted on having Amy conveyed to his mother’s place of abode. Mrs Foster soon discovered that the poor orphan had neither relations nor friends in England, and having taken a fancy to her, adopted her as a daughter. Thus did she come to call Mrs Foster “mamma,” and to preside at the tea-table in Sandhill Cottage.

      But, to return from this digression:— Mrs Foster was congratulating herself on having discovered the error in her accounts, when the door opened and a stout florid woman, of fifty or thereabouts, with a shiny red skin, presented herself and said:

      “Please, ma’am, here’s a gentleman as wants to see you, and won’t go away, though I told him you was at tea, w’ich is a fact, though it had no impression whatever on him, such is his imprence, goin’ for to reflect on my character for truth, as never told a lie since I was a baby in long frocks, so I didn’t; but it’s always the way with these men that go tax-gatherin’, though I don’t know that he’s that neether, so I don’t; what shall I say, ma’am?”

      Mrs Laker, having uttered the foregoing without pause or inflection of voice from beginning to end, came to an abrupt stop. Whether from want of breath or ideas it is difficult to say; perhaps from both.

      “Show the gentleman in, Laker,” said Mrs Foster; “no doubt he has good reason for wishing to see me.”

      Laker vanished. She was impulsive in her actions as well as in her words. She was her mistress’s factotum—her cook, housemaid, sempstress, and confidential adviser; in addition to which she was somewhat of a bore, being stubborn and opinionated, but a good and faithful servant on the whole.

      The individual who was presently introduced was a bustling little old gentleman with a shining bald head and a cheerful countenance.

      “Excuse my rudeness—madam—” he began, bowing low, as he advanced with a hesitating step—“this intrusion, really—”

      “Do not mention it, sir, pray be seated,” said Mrs Foster; “you are welcome—surely I have met with you before?”

      She put on a pair of gold spectacles as she said this, and looked earnestly at her visitor, who, having placed his hat on the floor and bowed to Amy, sat down and pulled out a bundle of papers.

      “You have, madam,” replied the visitor. “My name is Summers—David Summers, ma’am, at your service. I had the pleasure of being introduced to you at a meeting in a town not far distant, where an effort was being made to raise contributions towards the establishment of a lifeboat—”

      “Oh! I recollect,” cried Mrs Foster, whose sympathetic heart at once opened to the man who had made (as she had thought) such an eloquent appeal at the meeting in question; “I am delighted to see you, Mr Summers. If I mistake not, I invited you to come and see me when you should visit this part of the coast.”

      “You were kind enough to do so, madam, hence my venturing to call at this hour. I quit Deal to-morrow, early, and I am anxious to re-plead my old cause with you; but indeed I know this to be unnecessary, your own sympathies being already enlisted in my favour.”

      Mrs Foster assured Mr Summers that he was right, but begged of him, notwithstanding, to plead with her as if she were an СКАЧАТЬ