Part 15 (1/2)

”I see,” returned Red s.h.i.+rt; ”and the same, exactly, may be said of the _other_ side o' the line. I very seldom--almost never--heard of so many out there; which itself may be called a coincidence, d'ee see? a sort of negative similarity.”

”Young man, I would suspect you were jesting with me,” returned the Captain, ”but for the fact that you told me of your experiences first, before you could know that mine would coincide with them so exactly.”

”Your conclusions are very just, sir,” rejoined Red s.h.i.+rt, with a grave and respectful air; ”but of course coincidences never go on in an unbroken chain. They _must_ cease sooner or later. We left our wreck in _three_ boats. No doubt you--”

”There again!” cried the Captain in blazing astonishment, as he removed his hat and wiped his heated brow, while Mr Crossley's eyes opened to their widest extent. ”_We_ left our wreck in _three_ boats! My s.h.i.+p's name was--”

”The _Walrus_,” said Red s.h.i.+rt quietly, ”and her Captain's name was Stride!”

Old Crossley had reached the stage that is known as petrified with astonishment. The Captain, being unable to open his eyes wider, dropped his lower jaw instead.

”Surely,” continued Red s.h.i.+rt, removing his wide-awake, and looking steadily at his companions, ”I must have changed very much indeed when two of my--”

”Brooke!” exclaimed Crossley, grasping one of the sailor's hands.

”Charlie!” gasped the Captain, seizing the other hand.

What they all said after reaching this point it is neither easy nor necessary to record. Perhaps it may be as well to leave it to the reader's vivid imagination. Suffice it to say, that our hero irritated the Captain no longer by his callous indifference to coincidences. In the midst of the confusion of hurried question and short reply, he pulled them up with the sudden query anxiously put--

”But now, what of my mother?”

”Well--excellently well in health, my boy,” said Crossley, ”but woefully low in spirits about yourself--Charlie. Yet nothing will induce her to entertain the idea that you have been drowned. Of course we have been rather glad of this--though most of our friends, Charlie, have given you up for lost long ago. May Leather, too, has been much the same way of thinking, so she has naturally been a great comfort to your mother.”

”G.o.d bless her for that. She's a good little girl,” said Charlie.

”Little girl,” repeated both elderly gentlemen in a breath, and bursting into a laugh. ”You forget, lad,” said the Captain, ”that three years or so makes a considerable change in girls of her age. She's a tall, handsome young woman now; ay, and a good-looking one too. Almost as good-lookin' as what my missus was about her age--an' not unlike my little Mag in the face--the one you rescued, you remember--who is also a strappin' la.s.s now.”

”I'm very glad to hear they are well, Captain,” said Charlie; ”and, Shank, what of--”

He stopped, for the grave looks of his friends told him that something was wrong.

”Gone to the dogs,” said the Captain.

”Nay, not quite gone--but going--fast.”

”And the father?”

”Much as he was, Charlie, only somewhat more deeply sunk. The fact is,”

continued Crossley, ”it is this very matter that takes us down to Sealford to-day. We have just had fresh news of Shank--who is in America--and I want to consult with Mrs Leather about him. You see I have agents out there who may be able to help us to save him.”

”From drink, I suppose,” interposed our hero.

”From himself, Charlie, and that includes drink and a great deal more.

I dare say you are aware--at least, if you are not, I now tell you--that I have long taken great interest in Mrs Leather and her family, and would go a long way, and give a great deal, to save Shank. You know-- no, of course you don't, I forgot--that he threw up his situation in my office--Withers and Company. (Ay, you may smile, my lad, but we humbugged you and got the better of you that time. Didn't we, Captain?) Well, Shank was induced by that fellow Ralph Ritson to go away to some gold-mine or other worked by his father in California, but when they reached America they got news of the failure of the Company and the death of old Ritson. Of course the poor fellows were at once thrown on their own resources, but, instead of facing life like men, they took to gambling. The usual results followed. They lost all they had and went off to Texas or some such wild place, and for a long time were no more heard of. At last, just the other day, a letter came from Ritson to Mrs Leather, telling her that her son is very ill--perhaps dying--in some out o' the way place. Ritson was nursing him, but, being ill himself, unable to work, and without means, it would help them greatly if some money could be sent--even though only a small sum.”

Charlie Brooke listened to this narrative with compressed brows, and remained silent a few seconds. ”My poor chum!” he exclaimed at length.

Then a flash of fire seemed to gleam in his blue eyes as he added, ”If I had that fellow Ritson by the--”