Uncle Rik seated in Mr Wright’s drawing-room; Mr Wright in an easy-chair near the window; Mrs Wright—with much of the lustre1 gone out of her fine eyes—lying languidly on the sofa; Madge Mayland at work on some incomprehensible piece of netting beside her aunt,—all in deep mourning.
Uncle Rik has just opened a telegram, at which he stares, open eyed and mouthed, without speaking, while his ruddy cheeks grow pale.
“Not bad news, I trust, brother,” said poor Mrs Wright, to whom the worst news had been conveyed when she heard of the wreck2 of the Triton. Nothing could exceed that, she felt, in bitterness.
“What is it, Rik?” said Mr Wright, anxiously.
“Oh! nothing—nothing. That is to say, not bad news, certainly, but amazing news. Boh! I’m a fool.”
He stopped short after this complimentary3 assertion, for uncle Rik had somewhere read or heard that joy can kill, and he feared to become an accomplice5 in a murder.
“Come, Rik, don’t keep us in suspense,” said his brother, rising; “something has happened.”
“O yes, something has indeed happened,” cried Rik, “for this telegram is from Sam Shipton.”
He proceeded to read Sam’s telegram, while Mrs Wright covered her face with her hands and sank trembling on the sofa.
The telegram having suffered rather severe mutilation at the hands of the foreigners by whom it was transmitted, conveyed a very confusing idea of the facts that were intended, but the puzzling over it by the whole party, and the gradual, though not perfect, elucidation8 of its meaning, had perhaps the effect of softening9 the joyful10 intelligence to a bearable extent.
“Now,” said uncle Rik, while the perspiration11 of mental effort and anxiety stood on his bald forehead, “this is the outcome of it all. Sam clearly says ‘all well,’ which means, of course, that Robin is alive—thank God for that! Then he refers to a previous telegram, which, of course, must be lost, for it hasn’t come to hand. Bah! I wonder the nasty things ever do come to hand. Anyhow, that telegram must have been meant to announce their safe arrival at Bombay, undoubtedly12.”
“Of course—I see it now,” said Mrs Wright, with a deep sigh.
“Of course,” echoed Rik. “Then there’s some queer reference to a ship and a Fiery13 Queen, and a Stamps and a Shunks, and a Gibson, and a thief, and three bags, and the port of London, which of course means London, and a public-house named, apparently14, Torture—”
“Tartar, I think, uncle,” said Madge.
“Well, Tartar if you like, it’s much the same if you catch him. And it winds up with a girl—which is not surprisin’—who is to be expectorated—”
“Expected, surely,” said Madge, with a rather hysterical15 laugh, for the conflicting feelings within her tended rather to tears.
“So be it, Madge—expected, with an unreadable name beginning with an L,—and that’s all; and a pretty penny he must have paid to send us such a lot o’ rubbish.”
“It has brought the oil of gladness to our hearts, brother,” said Mr Wright, “and is worth its cost. But, now, what do you intend to do?”
“Do!” exclaimed Rik, who was never happier than when he could explode his feelings in action. “I’ll go this moment to the port of London, find out the owners of the Fiery Queen, make particular inquiries16 about the Stampses, Shunkses, and Gibsons, visit Torture public-houses—though they’re all that, more or less—and see if I can hear anything about girls to be expectorated, with names beginning with L. There—these are my sailing directions, so—up anchor and away!”
Uncle Rik immediately obeyed his own commands, and spent the remainder of that day in what he styled cruising. And he cruised to some purpose, for although he failed to obtain any information as to the girl, he discovered the owners of the Fairy—not Fiery—Queen, who said that she was expected home in a few weeks, but that they knew nothing whatever about the rather remarkable17 names which he submitted for their consideration. With this amount of information he was fain to rest content, and returned in an elevated state of mind to his brother’s house.
Some weeks after these events, the Wright family was again seated round the social board, as uncle Rik called it, when two visitors were announced. The social meal happening to be tea, and the drawing-room at that time in dishabille, owing to carpet disturbances18, the visitors were shown into the dining-room—a lady, accompanied by a pretty little girl.
“Excuse my calling at an unusual hour,” said the lady, “but I trust the occasion of my visit will be a sufficient excuse. I have just arrived from Bombay, and hasten to present a letter from your son, and to deliver over my interesting charge, this dear child, Letta Langley, whom—”
“The expectorated girl!” shouted uncle Rik, leaping up, “begins with an L,—two L’s indeed. Bah, I’m an idiot! Excuse my excitement, madam—pray go on.”
Slightly surprised, but more amused, the lady went on to tell all she knew about Robin and his friends, while the happy mother read snatches of Robin’s letter through her tears, and Mr Wright and Madge plied19 the lady with questions and tea, and Letta, taking at once to uncle Rik, ecstatified, amazed and horrified20 that retired21 sea-captain with her charming earnest little ways, her wonderful experiences, and her intimate acquaintance with pirates and their habits.
A letter from Robin to his mother, and another from Sam to Mr Wright, arrived next morning, and proved to be those which had been written immediately after their landing at Bombay, and had been posted, so the writers thought, at the time their first telegram was despatched. But the letters had been given to Stumps22 to post, and Stumps was not blessed with a good memory, which may account for the delay in transmission. These letters corroborated23 all the lady had said. Thus was Letta formally installed in the Wright family, and uncle Rik solemnly charged himself with the discovery of her mother!
“Depend upon it, my dear,” he said, with an amount of self-sufficient assurance and indomitable resolution that carried sweet consolation24 to the child’s heart, “that I’ll find your mother if she’s above ground, though the findin’ of her should cost me the whole of my fortune and the remainder of my life.”
And nobly did Rik redeem25 his promise. He obtained special introduction to the British Museum, consulted every Directory in existence, hunted up every widow of the name of Langley in the kingdom, and found the right one at last, not three miles distant from his own door in London. Captain Rik, it must be known, had a room in London furnished like a cabin, which he was wont26 to refer to as his “ship” and his “bunk,” but he paid that retreat only occasional visits, finding it more agreeable to live with his brother.
It was a fine Sabbath morning when Rik took Letta’s hand and led her into the presence of her mother. He would not let himself be announced, but pushed the child into the drawing-room and shut the door.
With similar delicacy27 of feeling we now draw a curtain over the meeting of the mother and the long-lost child.
“It’s almost too much for me, tough old sea-dog though I am, this perpetual cruisin’ about after strange runaway28 craft,” said uncle Rik, as he and Letta walked hand in hand along the streets one day some weeks later. “Here have I been beatin’ about for I don’t know how long, and I’m only in the middle of it yet. We expect the Fairy Queen in port to-night or to-morrow.”
“But you won’t hurt poor Stumps when you catch him, will you?” pleaded Letta, looking earnestly up into her companion’s jovial29 face. “He was very nice and kind to me, you know, on Pirate Island.”
“No, I’ll not hurt him, little old woman,” said Rik. “Indeed, I don’t know yet for certain that Stumps is a thief; it may be Shunks or it may be Gibson, you see, who is the thief. However, we’ll find out before long. Now then, good-bye, I’ll be back soon.”
He shook hands with Letta at Mr Wright’s house, she and her mother having agreed to reside there until Robin’s return home.
Wending his way through the streets until he reached one of the great arteries30 of the metropolis31, he got into a ’bus and soon found himself on the banks of the Thames. Arrived at the docks, one of the first vessels32 his eyes fell on was the Fairy Queen.
“Excuse me, captain; may I ask if you have a man in your crew named Stumps?”
“No, sir, no such name on my books.”
“Nor one named Shunks?”
“No, not even Shunks,” replied the captain, with a sternly-humorous look, as if he thought the visitor were jesting.
“Nor Gibson?” continued Rik.
“Yes, I’ve got one named Gibson. What d’ye want with him?”
“Well, I have reason to believe that he is—or was—a friend of a friend of mine, and I should like to see him.”
“Oh! indeed,” responded the captain, regarding his visitor with a doubtful look. “Well, Gibson has just got leave to go ashore34, and I heard him say to one of his mates he was going to the Tartar public-house, so you’ll see him there, probably, for he is not invisible or’narily. But I don’t know where the Tartar is.”
“But I know,” returned Captain Rik; “thank you. I’ll go seek him there.”
Stumps sat alone in one of the boxes of the Tartar public-house, which at that hour chanced to be nearly empty. His face was buried in his hands, and a pot of untasted beer stood at his elbow. Poor Stumps! Conscience had been remarkably35 busy with him on the voyage home. He would have given worlds to have got back to Bombay, return the ill-gotten bags, and confess his guilt36, but it was too late—too late.
There is something very awful in these words, too late! We read of and hear them often, and we use them sometimes, lightly it may be, but it is only when they can be used by ourselves with reference to something very serious, that we have a glimmering37 of their terrible significance. There is a proverb, “It is never too late to mend,” which is misleading. When the dream of life is over, and the doom38 is fixed39, it is too late to mend. No doubt the proverb is meant to refer to our condition while this life lasts, but even here it is misleading. When the murderer withdraws the knife and gazes, it may be, horror-struck at the expressionless face of his victim, it is too late. He cannot mend the severed40 thread of life. When the reckless drunkard draws near the end of his career, and looks in the mirror, and starts to see the wreck of his former self, it is too late. Health will never more return. Not too late, blessed be God, for the salvation41 of the soul, but too late for the recovery of all that was held dear in the life of earth.
Yes, Stumps had many a time while on the sea muttered to himself, “Too late!” He did so once again in that low public-house near the docks. Uncle Rik overheard him, and a feeling of profound pity arose within him.
“I beg pardon,” he said, and at the first word Stumps looked quickly, almost fiercely, up, “your name, I believe, is Gibson.”
“No, it isn’t—I, that is to say—Well, yes it is. Sailors has got aliases42, you know, sometimes. What d’ye want wi’ me?”
“You were acquainted in Bombay,” resumed Captain Wright, very quietly, as he sat down opposite to Stumps, “with a young man named Wright—Robin Wright?”
Stumps’s face became deadly pale.
“Ah! I see you were,” resumed the captain; “and you and he had something to do, now, with bags of some sort?”
The captain was, as the reader knows, profoundly ignorant of everything connected with the bags except their existence, but he had his suspicions, and thought this a rather knowing way of inducing Stumps to commit himself. His surprise, then, may be imagined when Stumps, instead of replying, leaped up and dashed wildly out of the room, overturning the pot of beer upon Captain Rik’s legs.
Stumps shot like an arrow past the landlord, a retired pugilist, who chanced to be in the doorway44. Captain Rik, recovering, darted45 after him, but was arrested by the landlord.
“Not quite so fast, old gen’l’man! As you’ve had some of your mate’s beer, you’d better pay for it.”
“Let me go!—stop him!” cried the captain, struggling.
As well might he have struggled in the grasp of Hercules. His reason asserted itself the instant the fugitive46 was out of sight. He silently paid for the beer, went back to the Fairy Queen to inform the captain that his man Gibson was a thief—to which the captain replied that it was very probable, but that it was no business of his—and then wandered sadly back to tell the Wright family how Gibson, alias43 Stumps, alias Shunks, had been found and lost.
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1
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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8
elucidation
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| n.说明，阐明 | |
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softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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14
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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17
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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18
disturbances
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| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
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19
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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corroborated
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| v.证实，支持（某种说法、信仰、理论等）( corroborate的过去式 ) | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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28
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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29
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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30
arteries
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| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
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metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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32
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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41
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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42
aliases
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| n.别名，化名( alias的名词复数 ) | |
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43
alias
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| n.化名；别名；adv.又名 | |
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44
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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45
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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46
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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