Charlie to the Rescue Part 47

"It was."

"And he went to sea in the _Walrus_, that was wrecked in the Southern Ocean!"

"Yes," exclaimed the old woman eagerly.

"Then," said Charlie, drawing a packet from the breast-pocket of his coat, "Fred gave me this for you. I have carried it about me ever since, in the hope that I might find you. I came to London, but found you had left the address written on the packet, and it never occurred to me that the owners of the _Walrus_ would know anything about the mother of one of the men who sailed in her. I have a message also from your son."

The message was delivered, and Charlie was still commenting on it, when the door of the inner room opened and Isaac Leather stood before them.

"Charlie Brooke!" he exclaimed, in open-eyed amazement, not unmingled with confusion.

"Ay, and a most unexpected meeting on both sides," said Charlie, advancing and holding out his hand. "I bring you good news, Mr Leather, of your son Shank."

"Do you indeed?" said the broken-down man, eagerly grasping his young friend's hand. "What have you to tell me? Oh Charlie, you have no idea what terrible thoughts I've had about that dear boy since he went off to America! My sin has found me out, Charlie. I've often heard that said before, but have never tally believed it till now."

"G.o.d sends you a message of mercy, then," said our hero, who thereupon began to relieve the poor man's mind by telling him of his son's welfare and reformation.

But we need not linger over this part of the story, for the reader can easily guess a good deal of what was said to Leather, while old Mrs Samson was perusing the letter of her dead son, and tears of mingled sorrow and joy coursed down her withered cheeks.

That night however, Charlie Brooke conceived a vast idea, and partially revealed it at the tea-table to Zook--whose real name, by the way, was Jim Smith.

"'Ave you found 'er, sir?" said Mrs b.u.t.t, putting the invariable, and by that time annoying, question as Charlie entered his lodging.

"No, Mrs b.u.t.t, I haven't found _'er_, and I don't expect to find _'er_ at all."

"Lawk! sir, I'm _so_ sorry."

"Has Mr Zook come?"

"Yes, sir 'e's inside and looks impatient. The smell o' the toast seems a'most too strong a temptation for 'im; I'm glad you've come."

"Look here, Zook," said Charlie, entering his parlour, "go into that bedroom. You'll find a bundle of new clothes there. Put them on. Wrap your old clothes in a handkerchief, and bring them to me. Tea will be ready when you are."

The surprised pauper did as he was bid, without remark, and re-entered the parlour a new man!

"My own mother, if I 'ad one, wouldn't know me, sir," he said, glancing admiringly at his vest.

"Jim Smith, Esquire," returned Charlie, laughing. "I really don't think she would."

"Zook, sir," said the little man, with a grave shake of the head; "couldn't think of changin' my name at my time of life; let it be Zook, if you please, sir, though in course I've no objection to esquire, w'en I 'ave the means to maintain my rank."

"Well, Zook, you have at all events the means to make a good supper, so sit down and go to work, and I'll talk to you while you eat,--but, stay, hand me the bundle of old clothes."

Charlie opened the window as he spoke, took hold of the bundle, and discharged it into the back yard.

"There," he said, sitting down at the table, "that will prove an object of interest to the cats all night, and a subject of surprise to good Mrs b.u.t.t in the morning. Now, Zook," he added, when his guest was fairly at work taking in cargo, "I want to ask you--have you any objection to emigrate to America?"

"Not the smallest," he said, as well as was possible through a full mouth. "Bein' a orphling, so to speak, owin' to my never 'avin' 'ad a father or mother--as I knows on--there's nothin' that chains me to old England 'cept poverty."

"Could you do without drink?"

"Sca'sely, sir, seein' the doctors say that man is about three parts--or four, is it?--made up o' water; I would be apt to grow mummified without drink, wouldn't I, sir?"

"Come, Zook--you know that I mean _strong_ drink--alcohol in all its forms."

"Oh, I see. Well, sir, as to that, I've bin in the 'abit of doin'

without it so much of late from needcessity, that I don't think I'd find much difficulty in knocking it off altogether, if I was to bring principle to bear."

"Well, then," continued Charlie, "(have some more ham?) I have just conceived a plan. I have a friend in America who is a reformed drunkard. His father in this country is also, I hope, a reformed drunkard. There is a good man out there, I understand, who has had a great deal to do with reformed drunkards, and he has got up a large body of friends and sympathisers who have determined to go away into the far west and there organise a total abstinence community, and found a village or town where nothing in the shape of alcohol shall be admitted except as physic.

"Now, I have a lot of friends in England who, I think, would go in for such an expedition if--"

"Are _they_ all reformed drunkards, sir?" asked Zook in surprise, arresting a ma.s.s of sausage in its course as he asked the question.

"By no means," returned Charlie with a laugh, "but they are earnest souls, and I'm sure will go if I try to persuade them."

"You're sure to succeed, sir," said Zook, "if your persuasions is accompanied wi' sa.s.sengers, 'am, an' b.u.t.tered toast," remarked the little man softly, as he came to a pause for a few seconds.

"I'll bring to bear on them all the arguments that are available, you may be sure. Meanwhile I shall count you my first recruit."

"Number 1 it is, sir, w'ich is more than I can say of this here slice,"

said Zook, helping himself to more toast.

While the poor but happy man was thus pleasantly engaged, his entertainer opened his writing portfolio and began to scribble off note after note, with such rapidity that the amazed pauper at his elbow fairly lost his appet.i.te, and, after a vain attempt to recover it, suggested that it might be as well for him to retire to one of the palatial fourpence-a-night residences in Dean and Flower Street.

"Not to-night. You've done me a good turn that I shall never forget"

said Charlie, rising and ringing the bell with needless vigour.

"Be kind enough, Mrs b.u.t.t, to show Mr Zook to his bedroom."

"My heye!" murmured the pauper, marching off with two full inches added to his stature. "Not in there, I suppose, missis," he said facetiously, as he pa.s.sed the coal-hole.

"Oh, lawks! no--this way," replied the good woman, who was becoming almost imbecile under the eccentricities of her lodger. "This is your bedroom, and I only 'ope it won't turn into a band-box before morning, for of all the transformations an' pantimimes as 'as took place in this 'ouse since Mr Brooke entered it, I--"

She hesitated, and, not seeing her way quite clearly to the fitting end of the sentence, asked if Mr Zook would 'ave 'ot water in the morning.

"No, thank you, Missis," replied the little man with dignity, while he felt the stubble on his chin; "'avin left my razors at 'ome, I prefers the water cold."

Leaving Zook to his meditations, Mrs b.u.t.t retired to bed, remarking, as she extinguished the candle, that Mr Brooke was still "a-writin' like a 'ouse a fire!"

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

SWEEt.w.a.tER BLUFF.

We must now leap over a considerable s.p.a.ce, not only of distance, but of time, in order to appreciate fully the result of Charlie Brooke's furious letter-writing and amazing powers of persuasion.