Chapter 4 FURTHER NEWS OF THE MORNING STAR.

On the following Monday morning Dick called for his chum as usual, but Jim was in no hurry to start.

"You go on," said he; "I'll come presently."

As a matter of fact he dreaded the meeting with his school-fellows; it would be so different from the scene he had pictured while walking home from the cricket-ground. He had looked forward to a regular triumph, for it must be confessed that Jim was rather vain, though he had the good sense to keep this failing, for the most part, to himself.

"All right!" exclaimed the Angel cheerfully; but he went only a short distance, and waited till his chum came out.

"What a silly chap you are!" said Jim peevishly; "now you'll be late."

"Never mind, my boy; better late than never, as they say in the copy-books. I said that to Laythorne the other day, but he gave me one back. 'Better never late,' said he, as I went to my place."

Prayers were over when they reached the school, but the master made no remark as they passed to their places. He had heard the sad news, and easily understood why the boys were late. At the interval he asked Jim to remain, and told him how sorry he was for his great loss.

"Thank you, sir," said Jim, resolutely keeping the tears from his eyes.

"And, by the way, Hartland," continued the young master kindly, "if there's anything I can do, let me know."

Just then the Head entered the room, and he, too, expressed his sorrow at what had happened, and Jim appreciated the kindness of his masters.

He had dreaded going back to school, but it was not very dreadful after all. Most of the boys looked at him curiously, but only one or two said anything, and then matters resumed their usual course.

At home it was much worse, although Susie, with strange persistence, still cherished the hope that her father had not been drowned.

"We don't know," she argued stoutly-"no one knows. The papers say some of the crew got ashore."

"Don't be stupid," said her brother. "It says plainly enough that father went down with the ship."

"But he might have been picked up afterwards, or got ashore somewhere else."

Even Susie's faith gave way, however, when a fuller account of the wreck came to hand. It was supplied by an A.B. named Davies, who had been picked up by the steamship Cormorant.

"It was on a Friday night," the newspaper report of his narrative ran, "and we were there or thereabout up to the latitude of Cape Horn. I had turned in 'all standing,' for the weather was squally, and I didn't expect to get much of a nap. Sure enough I'd hardly got my eyes shut when there came a crash, and some one sang out, 'All hands, ahoy!' We tumbled up the ladder in a hurry, and I tell you there wasn't a man there who didn't think Davy Jones was calling us. It was a night! The rain was coming down full pelt, and you couldn't keep your feet for the wind. Spars snapped like match-boxes, and the barque lay nearly on her beam-ends. It was dark as pitch just then, though it cleared up afterwards. We did what we could to save the ship; but, bless you, we had no more chance than a parcel of babies. She was settling down like a stone, and the old man sung out that we'd better try the boats. I ran to help clear the port quarter boat, and got in, when a heavy sea broke over her, smashing her in two. Down I went a long way, but at last came up to the surface again, and hammered my right hand against something hard. This turned out to be a top-gallant mast, so I took a firm grip. I couldn't see anything of the Morning Star, but there seemed to be a lot of rigging about, and I heard some men shouting in the distance. I reckoned afterwards it must have been the first mate and the chaps who got away in the other boat. I hulloed back, but they couldn't hear, and I reckoned I was done. Soon after that came another shout close to me, and I yelled back, 'Ahoy, there! Is that you, Mr. Hartland?'

"'Yes. Who are you?'

"'Davies,' I sings out-'on a mast.'

"'Can you hold on?'

"'Not much longer, I'm afeared.'

"'Keep your spirits up,' says he, cheery like, and then it was all quiet. However, we must have drifted pretty close together, for, directly day broke, there he was, not twenty yards off, with a lifebuoy round him, and clinging to a light spar.

"'How goes it now?' says he; and when I tells him I'm nearly done, he says, 'I've a good mind to keep you company. I've some rope here, and a draw or two round the body will keep you tight.' With that he swims over and lashes me to the mast. Presently he says again, quiet as anything, 'Look here, Davies; it's no go! This won't hold us both; I must take my chance. Good-bye, and if you've the luck to be picked up, just let 'em know over in England that I stood by the ship till she went down.'

"Them were his last words. He let go, and the last I saw of him he was striking out towards the shore. Of course he never reached it, though he was a strong swimmer, too. After that I lost count of things, and don't know anything more till my eyes opened aboard the Cormorant. The lashings saved me, or I should have gone under as sure as fate."

The story of her husband's bravery filled Mrs. Hartland with honest pride; but, unfortunately it extinguished the last spark of hope that, almost unknown, had lurked in the recesses of her mind. However, she faced the matter bravely, and talked over her plans with Jim.

"We shall have to leave this house," she said, "and find a cheaper one. Then I must get some kind of work to do."

"What about Susie?" asked Jim.

"Ah, that's the trouble! I can't very well go out and leave her alone. Perhaps I can get some plain sewing."

"Haven't we any money at all, mother?" the boy asked presently.

"Only what is due from your father's wages, and that won't keep us long."

Susie had gone to bed, and there was no one in the room but mother and son. Mrs. Hartland sat by the window with some needlework in her hand, though it was too dark to sew; Jim stood by the mantelpiece, fumbling nervously with a button on his jacket.

Presently he said bravely, "I must leave school and get a place somewhere. I daresay I can earn something, if only a little."

It cost him an effort to say this without breaking down, for he was very ambitious, and had mapped out a great career for himself. In the first place he had made up his mind to win the Gayton Scholarship, which was to be a stepping-stone to fortune. This was all done with now, for even in the event of being successful he could not accept the scholarship.

Mrs. Hartland guessed a part of his thoughts, and, calling him to her side, said,-

"We'll talk about that another time, Jim. There's no need to give up your school at present; I wouldn't like you to do that. I daresay we shall be able to rub along somehow till the next examination."

"But there's no good in trying for the 'Gayton.'"

"Not for yourself, but it would be an honour for your school if you won it. You would leave a good name behind you also."

So, after some further talk, it was decided that Jim should stay on at school; and the next week the family moved to a little house in a much poorer quarter of the town.

Of course Dick went to help, and his bright smile and cheerful humour did much to cheer them.

"Isn't it a poky place?" said Jim, pausing in the work of putting up his sister's bedstead.

"Well, you can't call it exactly a palace," replied Dick, "but it might be worse, you know. O my aunt!" And the Angel finished with a vigorous howl.

"What's the matter?"

"I nipped my hand under that iron bar." And he sucked the tips of his fingers as if they were sticks of sugar-candy. "Just see if you can twist this nut round; I can't move it."

The two friends worked away with a will, making up in zeal what they lacked in experience, and very soon had the room looking quite cozy and comfortable. Then they went downstairs; and before night, as Dick's mother, who had come over to help, put it, "things were beginning to look a bit straight."

Susie, of course, could do nothing herself; but she played the part of superintendent, and ordered the boys about, especially Dick, who good-humouredly obeyed all her commands. He looked on it all as great fun, and announced his intention of worrying his mother until they had a move on their own account.

Mrs. Hartland had faced her trouble bravely, but before long Jim recognized that things were much worse than he had guessed. Beyond his father's wages and the donation of a few pounds from the "Shipwrecked Mariners' Society," they had absolutely no money, and there seemed little prospect of his mother being able to earn sufficient to keep them. Already they had to deny themselves everything in the shape of luxury, and even Susie had to go without various little delicacies which they had been in the habit of providing for her.

"I ought to give up school and go to work," he said; but to this his mother was strongly opposed.

"If you leave school now you can only be an errand boy," she said; "and without education, you will have no chance of doing anything in the world."

Now I have no desire to put James Hartland forward as an uncommonly good boy, because, as you will find for yourselves, he was nothing of the sort; but in this particular case he certainly deserved some credit.

One evening he arrived home very late, which was such an unusual thing that his mother wondered what had kept him.

"Awfully sorry, mother," he cried, looking at the clock; "but I've been up in the town on business."

"For the master?"

"No," replied the boy, with rather a forced smile; "on my own account. I've got a place. Don't be vexed. I shan't have to leave school; it's only mornings and evenings."

"What have you to do?"

"To take the papers to Mr. Broad's customers; and if I help on Saturdays too, he'll give me five shillings a week. What do you think of that? Isn't it splendid?"

"But you will have no time to study for the 'Gayton.'"

"I must work harder at school, and put in an hour extra in the morning. I'll manage, never fear, and the money will just pay the rent. Wasn't it lucky I saw the card in the window? Of course I shan't be able to play in the rest of the cricket matches, but they can easily get some one to take my place."

He spoke cheerfully, but his mother knew what a sacrifice he had made, and hoped, for his sake, that good might come of it.

"Jim," said Susie, plucking his sleeve nervously, "will you have to call out 'Paper!' like the boys who come round here at night?"

"No, you little goose," he laughed-"only to leave them at the different houses. And now, let me finish my tea. I must have a good grind at geography this evening."