Charlie Scott Part 1

Charlie Scott.

by Unknown.

CHAPTER I.

A s.h.i.+P AT LAST.

"This has been a hard month for me," thought Morley Scott, the pilot, as he stood shading his eyes from the sun, and gazing anxiously out at sea.

He hoped to have caught a glimpse of s.h.i.+ps in the distance, for the winds had been very contrary lately. Many s.h.i.+ps had been obliged to pa.s.s by the harbour, unable to get in, and the pilots had found very little to do.

"That looks well," he thought, brightening up, as he saw a busy little steam-tug puffing along with a s.h.i.+p in tow; he knew a pilot would soon be wanted to bring it safely into the docks. He had not stood many minutes, trying to make out the s.h.i.+p, when he heard his name called, and turning round, he saw a boy running towards him.

"Here's the _Refuge_ at last, Morley Scott," said the boy; "they want you on board directly, because they are coming in to-night."

Morley Scott put his hand in his pocket, and gave the lad the customary sixpence for his good tidings. "It's almost the last," he said with a smile, pointing to the sixpence; "but still the news is cheap at that."

"I should think it is," said the boy, as he ran off laughing.

Morley Scott walked quickly along the pier until he came up to a row of boys, who were sitting on the edge of the wall, fis.h.i.+ng. He stood for a moment to watch them with an expression of amus.e.m.e.nt in his good-natured face. They sat perfectly still, afraid to speak or move, and scarcely daring to breathe, lest they should frighten away the fish; each boy watching his own and his neighbour's line with feverish anxiety.

Suddenly one little fellow, in a state of great excitement, began tugging at his line.

"Now then, Charlie Scott," called a big boy, who seemed to be the head of the party, "what are you pulling in that line for again? That is the third time in less than ten minutes; how is it likely we can catch anything?"

All the boys joined in a low chorus of "Yes, indeed!" "A pretty fellow he is to fis.h.!.+" "Serves us right for letting him come with us." The fact was, the boys had been very unsuccessful that afternoon; they had taken nothing, and it was a relief to have some one to lay the blame upon.

"I am sure there's something this time, though," said Charlie, still pulling away. His manner was so confident, that the boys became interested in spite of themselves, and several nearly lost their balance, craning out their necks to see beyond each other.

At last up came the hook, with a jerk that sent Charlie backwards; it had been entangled in a large piece of seaweed, that gave way suddenly just as he got it to the surface. "It's very strange," he said, as he examined the hook minutely, longing to find something alive, no matter how small. "It's very strange; I'm always feeling something, and yet I never catch anything."

"I tell you what it is, young Scott, if you don't mind what you're about, you'll both feel something and catch something soon that you won't like, perhaps," grumbled the big boy.

"Here, Charlie," called Morley Scott, seeing there was likely to be a quarrel, "I want you to run on an errand for me."

Charlie looked round, and seeing his father, he jumped up readily. To tell the truth, he was not sorry of the excuse to give up his fis.h.i.+ng; he had been thoroughly tired of it for the last quarter of an hour, although he did not like to own it to the other boys. He was a bright, happy-looking little fellow, about eight years of age, with light, waving hair, merry blue eyes, and sunburnt face.

"What is it, father?" he asked.

"I want you to run and find uncle John; tell him that the _Refuge_ is lying off at sea, waiting for us. Ask him to come with you, because they want to be into the docks to-night."

Away ran Charlie with his message, and soon returned with uncle John.

All three then made their way to the docks, where a number of small boats were moored.

"Do take me with you, father," pleaded Charlie, as the two men jumped into one of the boats and prepared to push off.

"No, no, Charlie, not this time," said his father; "remember you have your lessons to learn; besides, I dare say you have not had your tea."

"Oh, I can learn my lessons when I come back, and I've got a large bun here," he said, lifting up his jacket to show it; "uncle John bought it for me as we came along. Please do let me go, it's so miserable now, when you are away; I never like to go home, Mrs. Wood is so cross."

"Well, jump in then," said his father, with a sigh; he knew how the boy missed his kind, gentle mother. She had been dead nearly six months, and since then Charlie and he seemed to have been without a home. When his wife died Morley Scott scarcely knew what to do for the best. He had no relation who could take charge of Charlie and of his house, so he thought it would be best to sell his furniture and go to lodgings. It seems he had not been very fortunate in his choice, for according to Charlie's account Mrs. Wood, the landlady, was often ill-tempered.

The two men took their oars, and began to pull in the direction of the s.h.i.+p that was lying out some distance from the harbour. Charlie had found himself a snug little corner in the stern of the boat, and was enjoying himself thoroughly in a quiet way, catching at the bits of floating seaweed and chips, spreading his fingers out like the arches of a miniature bridge, and letting the water rush through them, occasionally munching at his huge bun by way of variation.

For a wonder Charlie's busy tongue was still; he saw by his father's countenance that he was not in a mood for talking. It wore a troubled, saddened expression; he was living over the old sorrow that Charlie's words had called up. His uncle, too, seemed in deep thought, and rowed on in silence; although they were unconscious of it, perhaps, there is no doubt that all three felt the influence of that beautiful calm summer evening.

The rich hues of the setting sun were gradually fading out from the sky, yet wonderful shades of crimson, rose colour, and gold, still lingered lovingly amongst the clouds, and rested upon the waters. All the bustle of the town had been left far behind; there was nothing to break the silence but the measured plash of the oars, and the soft rippling and murmuring of the water as the little boat rode lightly over the waves.

As Charlie gazed up at the glorious sky, he began to wonder where the sun went to every night, and how it was that there were always such lovely colours in the sky just where it disappeared; at last he came to the conclusion that the sun went into heaven, and that beautiful golden and rose-coloured light streamed out when the door was opened.

Charlie liked this idea so much, that he was quite disappointed when he learned afterwards that it was not the case.

"What a grand place heaven must be!" thought Charlie, remembering what he had heard at Sunday school. "How splendid G.o.d's angels must look, floating about in that beautiful light, with their white robes and crowns of gold!" Charlie went on thinking and thinking much in the same strain, until at last the s.h.i.+p was neared.

Morley Scott brought in his oars with a sudden movement, and springing up in the boat, hailed the s.h.i.+p, "_Refuge_ ahoy!"

CHAPTER II.

GOING HOME.

It is more than hour since we left Morley Scott hailing the _Refuge_.

How is it that the s.h.i.+p has not been moved yet? And here is the little boat turned homeward, and strangers have the charge of it.

Is Charlie asleep, that he lies there so pale and still? he has not moved once since we looked. And that something lying in the boat, covered by a s.h.i.+p's colour, what can it be? The night air is damp and chill, and the sea looks grey and deadly in the twilight.

One of the sailors leans forward to look at Charlie. "Poor little one,"

he murmurs, in a kind but sad tone.

"I wish we were yonder," said the other sailor, moving his head in the direction of the town. "I don't like the look of that boy at all; it may only be fainting, but it looks to me more like death than anything else."

It was almost dark when they reached the harbour.

"You stay with the boat," said the sailor who spoke just before, "and I'll go up into the town and see about help."

A man who had noticed their arrival sauntered up, curious to know if anything was the matter.

"Morley Scott and his brother are drowned."

In answer to the man's anxious questions, the sailor told him that when Scott's boat came along-side the s.h.i.+p a rope was thrown to them as usual to be made fast, and, unfortunately, both Scott and his brother sprang forward to catch it; the boat gave a violent lurch, and in a moment they were plunged into the sea, Morley Scott's head striking the s.h.i.+p's side as he fell. His brother was never seen again; they supposed he must have come up underneath the s.h.i.+p, and so met certain death.

Morley Scott's body they recovered, and had brought with them in the boat.

The sad news that two men had been drowned soon spread, and before long many anxious, awe-stricken faces were gazing down into the boat at the object which lay terribly still, covered by the s.h.i.+p's colour.

When poor little Charlie was lifted up, many a mother, with tears in her eyes, love in her heart, and thoughts of the little ones at home, pressed forward with offers to take the boy. One woman was even more eager than the rest: "Let me have him," she said; "he is like my own child that I lost last year come back again," and trembling with, emotion, she took poor Charlie, who was still unconscious, in her arms.