CHAPTER XVI
GUY FINISHES UP HIS BUSINESS IN LONDON
When Vivian Bell found himself on a railroad train, in the company of his new friends, bound for London, he was like one from whom a heavy burden had been lifted. He became light-hearted and lively.
“I am so happy,” he said, impulsively.
“I am afraid you have never been very happy at the school,” returned Guy.
“No, never! Dr. Musgrave has always been unkind to me,” said Vivian, with a shudder.
“He would probably have punished you very severely if we had not made our appearance.”
“He would have almost killed me. He was frightfully angry at my running away. How strong your friend is,” he added, looking at August Locke admiringly.
August smiled. He was human, and he was pleased with the compliment.
“I think I was too much for the doctor,” he said, “but the time was when he had the advantage of me. I have been flogged more than once in my schooldays; but I fancy I deserved it more than you. You don’t look to me like a very bad boy.”
“The doctor said I was, but indeed I tried to do my duty. Yet he was always flogging me.”
“Rawdon was your friend, was he not?”
“Yes; he was my only friend. He was always ready to stand up for me.”
“The doctor never flogged him?”
“No; I don’t see why, for he wasn’t a model boy, though he was a good friend to me.”
“He seemed like a trump. I’m sorry I didn’t tip him. I say, Guy, I mean to send him a couple of guineas, just to show my appreciation of his pluck and friendship for your ward.”
“No; it is I who ought to do that.”
“We’ll do it together.”
For a few days Guy kept Vivian with him at the hotel. He set himself to explore London, visiting all the noted places usually sought by strangers, and this the boy thoroughly enjoyed.
Guy determined to give him some pleasure after his long thraldom at school.
On the sixth day, in walking up the Strand, he and Vivian were surprised to meet Jim Rawdon.
Rawdon saw them first.
“Hallo, you two! I was in hopes to meet you,” he said.
“But how do you happen to be in London?” asked Guy. “You haven’t run away from school, have you?”
“Not exactly; but it amounts to the same thing, except that my father is satisfied with my leaving.”
“Tell me all about it.”
“Well, it was this way. After you took Bell away the doctor was fearfully cross. He was ashamed to think we boys had seen his downfall, and as you were not there he vented his anger on us. There were never so many boys flogged in the same length of time before.”
“Did you receive the money Mr. Locke and myself sent you?”
“Yes, and it got me into trouble. You see, the doctor heard of it, and it set him to thinking. Finally he found out, by the help of that sneaking son of his, that I had encouraged Bell to run away. He was almost beside himself with anger, and made up his mind to do what he had never done before; that is, give me a flogging.”
“I hope he didn’t do it,” said Guy, hastily.
“Listen, and I will tell you all about it. He summoned me before the whole school, and made a short speech. ‘James Rawdon,’ he said, ‘I have spared you heretofore on account of your excellent father, but I find that you aided and abetted your schoolmate Bell to run away in defiance of my rightful authority. Did you, or did you not?’
“‘I did,’ I answered. ‘The boy was so brutally treated that he had good reason to run away.’
“‘I never heard such insolence!’ roared the doctor, his eyes blazing. ‘Take off your jacket!’
“‘Thank you, sir,’ I replied, ‘I’d rather keep it on.’
“He lost all control of himself then, and sprang for me with the whip. My father had told me never to submit to a flogging, so I grabbed for the whip, and we had a struggle for it.
“I managed to break his spectacles, and convinced him that I was pretty strong for a boy. But what frightened him most was this—I pulled out a toy pistol from my pocket, and the doctor became pale as a sheet.
“‘Put that down, sir!’ he cried. ‘I will dispose of your case to-morrow!’
“That was all I wanted. That very evening I walked to the station and took the cars for London, buying my ticket with the money you sent me. When I told my father what led me to leave the school he told me I had done right, and he sent the doctor a letter which he won’t be very glad to read.”
“Dr. Musgrave seems to be a very unwise man,” said Guy.
“All the boys are getting dissatisfied,” rejoined Rawdon. “I know four who have written to their fathers to take them away. Dr. Musgrave will soon find himself deserted.”
On this point we will anticipate matters a little by saying that Rawdon’s statement proved prophetic. Dr. Musgrave’s temper was so aggravated by what had occurred that he increased his severity to such an extent as to induce a rebellion of the pupils.
The directors were finally obliged to take cognizance of the complaints made by parents, and the result was that Dr. Musgrave was removed from the post of head master. He found it impossible to get another position, and was compelled to live, or attempt to live, on the income of a small sum which he had been able to accumulate in his twenty years’ service.
His successor was a man of high scholarship and enlightened views, who had assisted Dr. Arnold at Rugby School.
Under his charge the school regained its lost popularity. For his humiliation Dr. Musgrave had only himself to thank, but it is doubtful if he fully realized it.
A problem now presented itself to Guy, in reference to his ward. What should he do with him?
As the boy’s education was incomplete, it seemed desirable that it should be continued. Moreover, in his future plans Guy felt that Vivian’s company would hamper him, besides increasing his responsibility.
Jim Rawdon came to his rescue.
One morning he called at the hotel where Guy was living, and said: “Why can’t you let Bell go to school with me?”
“Where are you going?” asked Guy.
“My father will send me to a clergyman who takes but six scholars, and who is highly recommended. He has two vacancies, so there is room for Bell and myself.”
“Please give me the clergyman’s name, and I will look the matter up.”
Rawdon did so.
Guy heard, upon inquiry, such good accounts of the teacher recommended that he decided to send Vivian to him, especially as he found that his young ward was in favor of the plan.
This relieved him, and left him ready to carry out any instructions he might receive from his employer in Bombay.
It was not long before these instructions came. Going one morning to the banking house, he found a letter from Mr. Saunders.
A part of it ran thus:
I presume you have visited Milton School, and inquired into the charges brought by my ward Vivian Bell against the head master. If the boy is really ill treated, have no hesitation in removing him. I am not willing that my old friend’s son should be cruelly used. Of my own knowledge I know nothing of Dr. Musgrave, but you will have no difficulty in forming a correct judgment as to his character and methods.
I leave it to your discretion to select another school for Vivian, unless the boy’s health should require a journey, in which case you may take him with you to America.
This leads me to say that certain matters which I will detail to you in a note of instruction, I wish to have you discuss with my New York agent, Gilbert Frazer, whose address you have. This will make it necessary for you to make a brief visit to New York.
I now come to the matter of the pirates’ treasure, which, according to the papers you showed me, is probably concealed on one of the Agalegas Islands. When you first mentioned the matter to me I thought little of it. So many stories are extant about buried treasure, that I was disposed to think this might be entitled to little consideration. But further reflections have led me to think that the treasure may really have an existence.
I therefore authorize you to communicate with your old acquaintance, Captain Grover, of the Osprey, with a view to engaging his services on his next trip, in a search for the island. That nothing may interfere with this object, he may report to my agent, Mr. Frazer, who will provide him with a cargo consigned to me. The search for the island will occasion delay, but of this I shall not complain, though another party undoubtedly would.
I send you a letter of credit addressed to Mr. Frazer, who will provide you with such funds as you need.
Yours truly,John Saunders.
A memorandum of instructions accompanied this letter.
CHAPTER XVII
HOW THINGS WENT ON IN BAYPORT
Guy was pleased with the prospect of a return to America, especially as it was but for a short time. He would not have liked to feel that his journeyings were over, and he was to go back there permanently.
He had been some months away from his home in Bayport, and during this time he had not heard anything from his father or the friends he left behind.
He felt that he had been remarkably successful. He left Bayport a raw boy, and now, after six months, he represented a wealthy merchant in Bombay, was worth a considerable sum in money, and had a prospect of continued employment at a good salary.
He had not thought much of it till now, but as the day of his sailing for New York approached he began to be anxious about his father’s health. He also troubled himself lest rumors might have come to him about disaffection in the parish, and the schemes of Deacon Crane to oust him from the position he had so long and so honorably held, and to put in his place a younger man.
While Guy is on the Atlantic, speeding for home on the good steamer Etruria, we will precede him and let the reader know how matters are going on in Bayport.
Deacon Crane had gathered at his house three or four members of the church one Thursday evening, and was seeking to bring them over to his views on parish matters.
“I tell you what, Brother Ainsworth,” said he, addressing the village storekeeper, “it’s time we had a change in the minister. Mr. Fenwick is behind the times. He isn’t a hustler. Why, the parish is at a standstill. There are not more members than there were five years ago.”
“That may be, Deacon Crane, but Bayport itself has been at a standstill. I don’t believe the population has increased twenty-five in those five years.”
“Mebbe not, mebbe not; but the parson is feeding us on husks instead of rich spiritual food.”
“I think you are prejudiced, Deacon Crane,” said Jackson Butler, a farmer, and one of the parish committee. “Mr. Fenwick is an able man, and none of the ministers he exchanges with gives us a better sermon than he. One of my friends from New Bedford attended church with me last Sunday, and expressed himself as highly edified with our minister’s sermon.”
“I apprehend,” said the deacon, “that it is more important that he should please the members of his own flock than the stray sheep who attend church occasionally from other folds.”
“Still the verdict of an intelligent outsider carries weight.”
“I tell you I want a change,” said the deacon, with emphasis. “I want some bright, young man that’ll make a stir.”
“Do you think there are many that feel that way, deacon?”
“Not a doubt of it.”
“Who, for instance?”
“Well,” said the deacon, after a pause, “Mr. Bucklin, for instance.”
“Bucklin seldom goes to church, and last year he contributed but five dollars toward the minister’s salary.”
“Exactly so. Get a young man, and Bucklin would attend regularly, and pay a larger sum toward the church expenses.”
“He might double his subscription, but that would not amount to much,” said Mr. Ainsworth. “Now I pay fifty dollars, and I think I have a larger claim to consideration than Silas Bucklin.”
“To be sure, to be sure! But we want to put aside our own preferences and consult for the general good.”
“Do you do that, Deacon Crane?” asked Mr. Ainsworth, pointedly.
“Yes, sir! yes, sir!”
“You are prejudiced against the minister.”
“No, sir; I am only considering what will be for the good of the parish.”
“You object, then, to the minister’s sermons? Is that all?”
“No, Brother Ainsworth. I object to Mr. Fenwick as a family man.”
“That’s something new. What is your objection?”
“Well, you see, he’s let his son Guy go off on a wildgoose chase to the other end of the world. Instead of keeping him at home to complete his education, or go into a store, he’s let him sail to India with Captain Grover.”
“That reminds me,” said Enoch Slade, the village carpenter. “Captain Grover arrived home yesterday.”
“Then where is Guy Fenwick? Nothing has been seen of him in the village.”
“He didn’t come home with the captain.”
“Didn’t come home?” repeated Deacon Crane, in amazement. “Where is he?”
“He stayed in Bombay. I believe he got something to do there.”
“Well, that beats all I ever heard,” said the deacon, severely. “It shows just what sort of a bringing up the boy has had. The minister ought to have known better than to have let him leave home. Guy was always self-willed. My son Noah never liked him.”
This didn’t impress the deacon’s visitors as much as he anticipated, for Noah Crane was by no means an object of admiration in the village. He was generally considered sly and mean, while Guy was a universal favorite.
“I always liked Guy, myself,” said Mr. Ainsworth. “He is a good scholar and a good boy. I do hope he will come out all right.”
“It ain’t hardly to be expected, Brother Ainsworth. The boy has always had his own way. You wouldn’t catch me letting my Noah go off to the other end of the world.”
“What did Captain Grover think of Guy remaining behind?” asked Mr. Ainsworth.
“He thought it was a good plan. Guy had a position with a leading English merchant in that city.”
“You’ll see him coming home before the mast as a common sailor, mark my words,” said the deacon. “As I was saying, the minister ought to set a good example to his people in the way of family discipline; but you see what he’s done. Suppose we all followed his example?”
“I think Guy will come out all right,” observed Enoch Slade.
“I don’t.”
“What would you have done with him?”
“I’d have put him into a store, or had him learn a trade; that’s what I would have done.”
“Mr. Fenwick was anxious to have him go to college,” suggested Enoch Slade.
“What was the objection?”
“He couldn’t afford it. You know Mr. Fenwick’s salary is only a thousand dollars a year, and he has an aged aunt whom he helps. So it was quite impossible for him to afford the expense.”
“All the more reason for keeping Guy at home and setting him to work. Now if I chose to send Noah to college, I could afford it,” added the deacon, proudly.
“Why don’t you do it, then?” asked Mr. Ainsworth.
“Noah doesn’t care to go. He wants to be a business man.”
“I wouldn’t give him a place in my store,” thought Ainsworth, “if he would work for nothing.”
Of course he didn’t say this.
On the whole, Deacon Crane didn’t find as much sympathy as he expected in his opposition to the minister, but he succeeded in converting half a dozen heads of families to his views. They were not persons of much importance, but, instigated by the deacon, they talked a good deal, and managed to convey the impression that there was really considerable dissatisfaction with Mr. Fenwick.
Finally, Deacon Crane thought the time had come to call upon the minister, and let him know how matters stood, or rather how he wished matters to stand.
So one evening he took his cane, and made his way to the parsonage.
Mr. Fenwick was at work upon his sermon for the coming Sunday, but he laid down his pen and greeted the deacon cordially.
“I hear that your son hasn’t come home on the Osprey, Brother Fenwick,” the deacon began.
“No. It’s a disappointment to me. I have missed him sadly.”
“It seems to me it was a very risky thing to let him go off so far.”
“He was very anxious to go, and I thought it might be an education to him. I would like, myself, to see more of the great world.”
“Of course that’s one way to look at it, but there ain’t many boys that can be trusted so far away. I was amazed at his not coming home. What does the captain say?”
“He says that Guy made a good friend, and he is earning enough to pay his expenses.”
“Then you approve of his staying?”
“I hardly know what to think. Guy is a good boy, and I think he can be trusted.”
Deacon Crane coughed.
A cough is very significant sometimes. The deacon’s cough indicated incredulity of a very decided character.
“Mebbe, mebbe,” he said; “but that isn’t the way I would have managed with my boy.”
“What would have been your course?” asked Mr. Fenwick, mildly.
“I would have set Guy to work. He is old enough to be a help to you.”
“He is earning his living.”
“True, if he keeps his place. Suppose he gets discharged?”
“The captain says that is not likely.”
“Mebbe, mebbe; but I didn’t come here to discuss your son, parson. I have a weightier matter to speak of.”
“Go on, Brother Crane, I am ready to listen to you.”
CHAPTER XVIII
WILY DEACON CRANE
“It’s a delicate matter,” said Deacon Crane, coughing slightly. “I’d rather some other brother would have taken it off my hands, but duty is duty, and it isn’t right to shirk it.”
“True, Brother Crane,” said the minister, but he looked puzzled. He had no idea what the deacon was driving at.
“Do you think, parson, the parish is progressin’ as it should? Do you think the people are as much interested in religion as they’d ought to be?”
“Is there any parish of which that can be said, Brother Crane?”
“Well, perhaps not; but it seems to me there’s a good deal of spiritooal indifference in the church to-day.”
“More than there used to be?”
“That’s the point I am comin’ to. To my mind the congregation is gettin’ less and less spiritooally-minded.”
“I am very sorry if this is the case. I had not noticed it. The congregations keep up very well, and the people are attentive to the services.”
“Mebbe, mebbe; they’d appear to be so out of respect for you, parson; but as I move about the village, of course I hear what’s said.”
“Admitting that things are as you say, what remedy do you suggest?”
“That’s the p’int! That’s the p’int I was comin’ at; but I don’t hardly like to answer that question.”
“Why not?” asked the minister, innocently.
“Because it might hurt your feelin’s, parson.”
“I will not allow my feelings to stand in the way, so be kind enough to answer the question frankly and candidly.”
“Then, if I must say it,” replied the deacon, watching under his shaggy eyebrows to see what effect his words would have upon Mr. Fenwick, “if I must say it, some of the people are sayin’ it might be well for the parish to have a younger minister!”
Mr. Fenwick started as if he had been struck. He was utterly unprepared for this communication. He had lived among his people for twenty years, and no thought of separation had come to him.
He turned pale, and endeavored to stifle his emotion.
“I—I was not prepared for this, Deacon Crane,” he said. “Are the people really getting tired of me?” he added, with a tremor in his voice.
“Of course there are some of us that stand by you, parson; for instance, myself and Mrs. Crane. But I regret to say that some of the younger people are gettin’ uneasy, and think that a change might be for the benefit of the parish.”
“Will you name to me some of the disaffected ones, Brother Crane?”
“No, I’d rather not. You see, they all respect you. You see, you’re gettin’ into years, parson.”
“I am fifty-one.”
“True, that isn’t very old. I’m a year or two older myself.” (The deacon was fifty-nine.) “But then I am not a preacher. People don’t seem to consider age an objection in a deacon. If they did, I hope I should be willin’ to sacrifice myself on the altar of dooty.”
Mr. Fenwick rose from his chair and began to pace up and down the study. He was very much agitated, and heart-sore at the thought that the people who were so near to him should wish him to go.
“How long have you seen signs of disaffection, Deacon Crane?” he asked, pausing in his walk.
“Well, for about two years, I reckon, Mr. Fenwick.”
“And yet the people seem to come to church in as large numbers as usual.”
“It is their sense of dooty, parson. They feel that they ought to come.”
“That may be. It is certainly very commendable. I only mention it to let you understand why I have not noticed this feeling.”
“Of course, I needn’t say, parson, that I am very sorry to be the one chosen to tell you how matters stand. You see, there was a meetin’ of a few of your parishioners at my house last night, and we talked the matter over, and it was thought best that I should give you a hint.”
“May I ask who were at your house, Deacon Crane?”
“Well, I don’t think I ought to tell. Some of them might be unwilling.”
“I don’t see why.”
“They might think you would be offended.”
“I should have no right to be offended. I might feel grieved. Indeed I do. But, of course, my first thought must be of the parish, and what is good for it.”
“I knew you would feel that way, Brother Fenwick. We all know what a conscientious man you are.”
“I hope so,” faltered the minister. “You think that I ought to send in my resignation?”
“Of course, parson, you will be able to preach to good acceptance in some other parish. All people don’t have the same taste.”
“It would be hard for me to settle down among strangers.”
“Just at first it would; but after a while it would put new life into you. We all of us need a change, ministers as well as other people.”
“I will think over what you say, Deacon Crane. It has come as a surprise to me.”
“To be sure, to be sure! There is only one thing now I want to say,” and the deacon cleared his throat with portentous significance.
“And what is that other thing you have to say, deacon?” asked Mr. Fenwick.
“You know I hold a mortgage of five hundred dollars on your house?”
“Yes.”
“I was thinkin’ of callin’ it in; but if you should be goin’ to another place, I wouldn’t mind buyin’ it if we could agree upon terms.”
“I don’t feel like discussing that question now, deacon.”
“All right. There’s plenty of time.”
Deacon Crane rose to go. As he left the house a complacent smile overspread his face. He felt that he had broached the subject successfully, and deceived the minister as to the extent of the opposition to him.
Besides, and this was no unimportant consideration, he saw that there would be a chance, in all probability, of buying the minister’s modest house at a bargain, and so making a tidy little profit for himself.
Half an hour later, Mr. Ainsworth entered the presence of the minister. He had seen Deacon Crane leaving the parsonage, and guessed his object in calling.
Lest the deacon should have misrepresented matters, he wished to have a little conference with Mr. Fenwick himself.
“Mr. Fenwick,” he said, as he entered the study, “you look sober.”
“Yes, Brother Ainsworth, my heart is heavy.”
“Deacon Crane has called upon you?”
“Yes. He grieved me very much by telling me that the people wanted a change.”
“Which means that he wants a change.”
“He assured me that he and Mrs. Crane stood by me. He said it was the younger people who were getting uneasy.”
“Mr. Fenwick, Deacon Crane has for months been trying to get up an opposition to you.”
“Can this be so?”
“Yes. He has not met with very good success. I don’t think there are more than half a dozen persons besides himself that want a change, and those are members by no means prominent.”
“But why should he be so desirous of having me leave?”
“Because there is a cousin of his wife, now out of a charge, whom he hopes to get here in your place. That is the true explanation. He has deceived you as to the state of feeling in the parish.”
“Brother Ainsworth, you have relieved my mind and lifted from it a heavy burden. The deacon gave me to understand the feeling was general.”
“Moreover,” continued Mr. Ainsworth, “he wants to get hold of your house and let it to his cousin, if he can manage to get him installed as your successor.”
“Then you don’t think I ought to resign?”
“Certainly not. We don’t propose to have the deacon run the parish.”
Two days afterward Deacon Crane called again.
“Well, Brother Fenwick,” he said, “have you decided to resign?”
“No, Deacon Crane, not yet. Brother Ainsworth tells me that the great majority of the people favor my remaining.”
“He is in error,” said the deacon, tartly. “You are making a great mistake. And I want to say that I shall have to foreclose that mortgage. I want the money this day week.”
“I doubt if I can obtain it so soon,” said the minister, troubled.
“Then I will buy the place.”
“I prefer not to sell. I will try to secure the money.”
Mr. Fenwick went about among those of his friends who he thought might be able to accommodate him with a loan, but there was a stringency in the money market, and no one seemed able to oblige him.
He returned, despondent, from his search, when, as he entered the house, he found a letter awaiting him.
It ran thus:
Dear Father:
I have just arrived in New York on the Etruria. I hope to reach Bayport to-morrow.
Guy.