The Captain's Bunk Part 5

'Well, boys dear, have you decided? Are you to act as father's sons, as Carnegys of the old stock, or, to put it in another way, as Christians who have given offence, and know that there is but one way of making up for it? Will you apologise?' Theo spoke with urgent persuasiveness.

'I shall!' Geoff stood up straight, and his face was pale and set, as he confronted Theo bravely.

'I shan't!' Alick's head sunk lower and lower; on his brow a gloomy scowl deepened, and his eyes refused to meet those of his sister wistfully seeking his.

CHAPTER VIII

THEO'S HAVEN

'Oh, mother, mother, it's too hard for me! You have asked too much, and I have failed, miserably failed!'

The wind from the sea was blowing fresh and free over the village, and beyond it to the little churchyard, the G.o.d's acre of Northbourne.

Kneeling beside one of the gra.s.sy mounds therein was Theo Carnegy, tears rolling down her earnest face. The girl was overwrought by home-worries, for Theo was none of the crying sort, as a rule. But there are times in the lives of each of us when all things seem too difficult for our feeble hands to smooth out; the knots, the difficulties, become hopelessly entangled; we sit down dismayed in stony despair, or we weep helplessly, according to our several temperaments. From the beginning of the sorrow that shaded her young days, Theo had a trick, in times when hara.s.sing troubles crowded upon her, of secretly slipping away to the churchyard, and whispering her trials to that gra.s.sy mound, the most sacred spot of earth to the girl.

It was so still, so unutterably peaceful, in the hallowed enclosure, where the green gra.s.s grew tangled among the grey headstones that elbowed each other in the cramped s.p.a.ce. During the week the little churchyard was deserted. On Sundays the simple fisher-folk wandered in and out among the Northbourne sleepers, talking softly of their old neighbours; but it never occurred to them to do anything towards keeping the graves neat and straight. Theo's loving care kept the quiet corner where her mother slept in perfect order; but for the rest an air of dreary neglect prevailed.

Bewildered and hara.s.sed by her brothers' mad outbreak, Theo had sought her usual consolation, and was sitting leaning her cheek against the stone that told the last chapter in the life-history of the gentle mother who had risen at the Master's call to go up higher. And as she so sat, a peace, born of the surrounding silence, brooded down over her troubled soul. Her anger at the boys' mutiny died out. Somehow, among the silent sleepers round about her, it seemed small and paltry to fume over the wranglings of the schoolroom. The wind that stole up from the bay dried the tears on Theo's cheek. New resolves stirred her heart.

She would pluck up courage and try, once again, to move Alick's stubborn will. Not that she had much hope of inducing him to apologise to his justly offended tutor. She knew that Philip Price had created an insurmountable rock in the path of reconciliation by his insistence on such a thing.

'I don't blame him, of course not,' she said half aloud. 'It's due to him that the boys should apologise. Dear old Geoff is already willing to do it; but Alick never will!'

'Who is you talking to, Theo?' A sweet, shrill voice made Theo jump, and turn quickly.

'Queenie! Oh, my deary, how did you know where to find me?' she cried in her surprise.

'Oh, I could find you nowhere, Theo. I asked everybody, even father.

Then I knewed you must have gone to see mother, and so I comed too.'

Queenie, armed as usual with a couple of dolls, proceeded to seat herself and them on the other side of the green mound. 'Tell me about mother an' me, Theo, when I was a very little girl, will you?' she soberly begged, when she had established herself and her infants to her satisfaction.

In this little one there was an utter lack of dread of death. n.o.body had filled her childish mind with vague fears of the unknown life beyond. Her simple faith was that unlimited trustful belief that our Lord alluded to when He said, 'Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven.'

The mother whom Queenie only knew by hearsay had gone home first--gone to Paradise beyond the blue skies. Theo said so. This dear mother would be waiting, with wistful welcomes, for each one of her dear ones when they, too, went to that other far-off home. Theo said so.

Queenie, therefore, came, with happy, childish trust, to her mother's quiet resting-place much as she would have trotted into that mother's room, had G.o.d not called His meek servant away out of her earthly home.

'I don't think I could tell you stories to-day, dear.' Theo rose slowly from the gra.s.s, and looked down upon the fair little face under its straw hat. 'I am too troubled.'

'Is it the horrid figures, Theo?' Queenie asked, half-sympathetically, half-absently, her attention being attracted by a bold thrush hopping across the graves.

'No, it's worse than figures; it's the boys,' mournfully rejoined Theo.

'The boys are going shrimping this evening, with Ned,' said Queenie importantly. 'I wish you and I was boys, Theo!' the little one plaintively added. Queenie was beginning to discover the fact that dolls were not, perhaps, the highest joys of life.

Going out shrimping with Ned! Theo started. Then things were hopeless indeed. There would be no evening preparation. Perhaps even Geoff had changed his mind, and would refuse to say he was sorry.

'I must take you home now, at once, deary. Come! I have to go and see old Goody Dempster before tea. Say good-bye, and come.'

Queenie's fresh little mouth was pressed against the grey headstone, and she softly whispered, 'Good-bye, mother darlin'!'

Theo stooped and did the same. The touching little ceremony was never omitted by either. Then hand in hand they soberly left the quiet resting-place, the missel-thrush peering out of its bold eye at their retreating figures.

CHAPTER IX

COMING EVENTS

'May I come in, Goody?'

A sweet voice penetrated the dim recesses of the little thatched cottage which, with its weather-stained front, was the centre one of the half-circle of homely dwelling-places that huddled together looking out on the world of waters. Sitting by the smoky fire, watching, as she knitted busily, the iron pot of potatoes boiling for her supper and that of her grandson Ned, was Goody Dempster. Her face, as she lifted it, was brown and wrinkled--indeed, it was not unlike in hue the kippered herrings hanging on a stick outside. But a pleased surprise sprang into her eyes as she recognised her visitor's voice.

'Is that yourself, Miss Theedory? Come along in, deary! You're always a sight for sore eyes, as ye know well. Sit ye down on the little stool as ye've set on sin' ye were a tiny toddler. It's kep' dusted careful, case you should drop in; and n.o.body, not even Ned, sits on Miss Theedory's stool.'

'I know that, Goody dear. I shouldn't mind if they did; but you mean it for kindness to keep a stool specially for me. Well, you see I've come again to have another talk with you about Ned. Indeed, I hoped to see himself, but he doesn't seem to be in the way.'

'No, Miss Theedory, he ain't. And reason why's this. He's bin out with the Fletchers' boat all the day. There's a great take o'

mackerrow expected shortly, and the Fletchers they're on the look out; they're always that spry to the main-chance, as you know, deary. Not as I'm one to blame they; people has got to be sharp in their bis'ness.'

'Yes, of course,' a.s.sented Theo absently. She was staring into the fire, wondering what tack would be best to take with Ned, when she did get hold of the boy. 'Have you been talking to Ned, Goody, as you promised you would?' she turned her head to ask presently.

'Ay; I've talked a bit to he. But b'ys is a handful, Miss Theedory, as n.o.body should know better than yourself. Now, my Ned his heart's in the right place; it's his head as is the trouble. He has crammed hisself with trash of foring travel until the b'y is fair crazed to be off and out into the world. That's what it is!'

'I shouldn't call books of travels trash,' said Theo slowly. 'It wouldn't be quite fair--nor true. But it's exactly the same at home with our boys, especially with Alick. He reads exciting books of adventure constantly. Of course I know some folk must go out into the world, and do all the wonderful things; everybody can't be stay-at-homes for life. But the worst thing about it is that Alick won't wait his time. He wants to s.h.i.+rk his education and rush off, in his ignorance, to do things that it takes full-grown men, and well-instructed men, to even attempt. Oh dear!'

'Same wi' Ned, set 'em both up!' angrily exclaimed Goody, dropping the stocking she was knitting into her lap. 'And as for wanting to find the North Pole, did anybody ever hear tell o' sich impident presumption! If the Lord had meant as we should find the North Pole, He'd ha' showed the way to it, straight as straight, and made it easy as easy. But seein' as time arter time men have giv' up their lives, bein' lost in the ice and snows, and still, to my thinking, if not to others, the North Pole is shrouded from their reach, why, a body can see, plain as plain, that 'tain't meant as man should ever compa.s.s it.

Not that I can say as it's forbid special in the Book; I won't say that, nohow. At least,' added Goody cautiously, 'I've never come across it in my readin's.'

'Oh, well,' said Theo heavily, 'it would not really so very much signify what the boys' day-dreams of the future were, if they would only do their duty meantime. I was trying so hard last Sunday, in the cla.s.s, to make them all understand that G.o.d Himself leads always, and that until He points the way we have no right to set out upon it. But it is questionable whether they took in my meaning.'

Goody nodded. There was a little silence in the cottage. The potatoes bubbled gaily in the pot, and the clock in the corner ticked in measured dignity.

'There's one thing, deary, that I think you had ought to be telled.'

Goody broke the stillness, at last, with an effort. 'I've had it on my mind for some weeks back to let 'ee know; but somehow I dursn't. Them b'ys is plannin' mischief. They've a notion to run away--to sea!'

The old woman spoke the last words in a whisper, though there was n.o.body to hear, save the sleepy old tortoisesh.e.l.l cat by the fender, which opened one lazy eye, winked as if she, too, were in the secret, then, shutting it, purred off to sleep.

'Run away!' Theo's fresh face turned chalky pale, and her eyes widened into a terrified stare.

'True, deary, quite true! Night arter night I could hear Ned a-talkin'

in his sleep in his little bed yonder, same's if somethin' was on his mind. So, at last, I got out o' my bed one night a-purpose to listen careful, and there, if Ned wasn't ravin' away to hisself, in his sleep, and 'twas all about gettin' away up to the docks at Lunnon, and hidin'

in some s.h.i.+p bund for the North, him and Muster Alick. It giv' me a turn, as I see it's done the same to you this minnit, my dear. So I thought I'd best tell 'ee private, when I'd the chance; for n.o.body knows what a b'y won't dare to do. P'raps you could speak to the captain, and git him to make a stir. Eh, deary?'

'Father? Oh, it would be no use. He wouldn't care, nor even listen.

He's too busy with his stupid old writings to mind any of us, or what trouble we are in. It's too bad the way we are left to ourselves!'

Theo in her excitement lost her self-control, and spoke with a bitterness not belonging to her sweet nature. In truth, the girl was becoming a great deal hara.s.sed by the cares that were pressing upon her so heavily of late.