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"POOR JIM!"
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"And you were the little boy that was taken out of the water, and poor Jim was the brave man who swam into the great big waves to save you!"
Pat was the speaker, and the beautiful little boy the listener. They were sitting together in the hot sunshine, just beneath the south wall of the lighthouse, well sheltered from the wind; and the sun was shining with all the brilliance that it sometimes can in early February on the south coast, though the sea tumbled and foamed beneath the strong gale which still blew steadily day by day, and cut off Lone Rock from the mainland. But the weather began to show signs of modifying. The careful keeper of the lighthouse had thatday told his wife that he believed a few more days would see the end of this bout of rough weather. The glass was beginning to rise after its long period of depression, and this was the third day on which the sun had shone out brightly and bravely, tempting the two children out upon the rocks for several hours, in the brightest part of the day. By this time the two boys were the best of friends. They were not happy for a moment if separated. Pat took the lead in devising amusement for his small guest, and was in one sense of the word the leading spirit, yet it was the little prince who really ruled the pair, for his word was law to his comrade, who could have sat and looked at him, or listened to his merry prattle for hours. The little gentleman had a way with him which had captivated every heart within the lighthouse. Nat and Eileen were almost as much his slaves as Pat. He could twist any one of the three round his chubby little fingers, and this was plainly no new art to him. Those merry ways of his, half-coaxing, half-commanding, had plainly been practised before. He was no novice in the art of getting what he wanted, this beautiful little prince (as Pat firmly and fullybelieved him to be); and it seemed to Eileen a pathetic thing that the little fellow should thus be cast among strangers, and those of a rank in life so much humbler than his own, without being able to explain to them who he was, nor whence he had come, although in other ways he could prattle away fast enough, and tell little stories, too, in his own peculiar fashion.
Eileen had listened in vain for any illusions to his parents in his talk; but the name of father or mother was never on his lips. Once, when she asked him where mother was, he pointed vaguely out over the sea; but she could not make out whether he meant anything by the gesture; and the only relative he ever spoke of was "Auntie;" whilst he did not appear to be pining after anybody, but was as merry as a lark from morning to night; very different from what Pat would have been, even as a little child, if suddenly robbed of all those whom he had learned to love.
"I sometimes think the water has washed the memory of what went before clean out of his head," Eileen had said to her husband, in some disappointment at her failure to learn anything of the boy's history from him. "It seemsstrange he should have forgotten everything, such a quick, noticing little fellow as he is. He talks a little about a ship to Pat; but never seems to remember the people who were with him. I can't make it out. At his age, Pat would have been able to tell anybody where he lived, and what his name was, and who his father and mother were. It puzzles me altogether, that it does. And we want to send a message ashore when the relief boat comes. I'd have liked to be able to say who the boy was."
"Well, we'll say enough for his relations to know him by, if he's got any living claim to him, poor little chap. I suppose the children of the gentry, who always have a nurse beside them, don't learn to be as knowing and independent as our little ones, who have to fend for themselves so much sooner. Pat may be will find out something more sooner or later. He chatters away to him like a young magpie. The child looks a deal better since his little prince came. It's good for boys to be together. I'll not grumble if his folks don't come for him in a hurry. Look at them now; why, they are as happy as kings together—and a deal happierthan many kings, I take it, if all we hear of the ways of the world is true."
The two boys were sitting in the hot sunshine in the lee of the lighthouse, and the tame sea-gull was hopping about near to them, sometimes diving into a pool after a dainty morsel that caught his eye, sometimes flapping his wings, and uttering his harsh cries, which seemed those of joy at seeing the sunshine again. Pat was evidently telling a tale to the little one of more than usual interest. The little prince's eyes were fixed upon his face with a look of wrapped absorption, his rosy lips were parted, and his whole expression was one of deep and undivided attention. He was in reality hearing the story of the little boy who had been seen a few nights ago, just as it was growing to be dawn, floating on the water on a broken spar; and of the brave man in the lighthouse, who had swum out amongst the great waves to bring him in safe to shore; and Prince Rupert had been more fascinated by this tale—told with all the graphic power of which the youthful eye-witness was capable—than by any other from Pat's store; and when at the close he was told that he himself had been thelittle boy, and that it was Jim who had gone into the boiling sea to fetch him out, he looked fairly bewildered at the idea, and turning his dark eyes towards the lighthouse behind, he looked up and down, and then asked—
"And where is poor Jim?—does he live here, too?"
"Yes, he lives here," answered Pat. "But he got hurt that night. He has to lie in bed. I go to see him every day. Poor Jim looks very sad and poorly. Father says he won't be better till we can get a doctor to him."
Little Rupert's eyes were wide with sympathy and interest. He was quite a kind-hearted little fellow, though he had been taught to think first of himself and his own wishes, as too many little children are, whether those about them know it or not.
"Did he get hurted coming into the water after me?" he asked, in a voice that was quite soft and subdued with surprise and thought.
"Yes, Prince Rupert, he did," answered Pat. "I don't quite know how it was; but there was a big black thing floating in the water, too. I saw it, and a great wave came and carried it right against Jim. I think it might have hityou, perhaps, only Jim saw it coming, and turned over so that it came against him instead, and a big wave broke all over him then, and I couldn't see what happened. But I know he got hurt then, for after that he couldn't help himself a bit; and father and mother could only pull you both in, for Jim never let go of you. And it seemed like as if you were both dead at first. But mother took care of you, and father took care of Jim, and you both got better. But Jim has to lie in bed, and his side hurts him dreadfully when he moves. But you can run about and play. I'm so glad you weren't hurt, too. Do you remember being washed into the water?"
But the child did not answer the question. He seemed to be watching the gull at his queer play; but he was evidently thinking of something else, for he turned presently to Pat, and said with a lip that quivered a little—
"I don't like Jim to be hurted in getting me out. Where does Jim live?"
"In there," answered Pat, indicating the lighthouse behind. "When he was well, he helped father to take care of her—the big lamp, you know, that you went to see last night. Hecan't help now, because he's ill. But when he gets better he will again."
"I'd like to go and see Jim," said the child, suddenly scrambling to his feet. "I fink Jim must be a very good man. I'll go and tell him so."
"Yes, do!" answered Pat eagerly. "I'm sure he would like it. I tell him about you every day, Prince Rupert. He likes to hear about you, I know, though he can't talk hardly at all. You must talk to him. He can't say hardly anything himself. It hurts him so; and mother says he mustn't."
"I'll talk," answered the little prince serenely. "I can talk very well, if I like. I've heard people say so, though they don't always understand when I do. Why didn't you take me to see Jim before?"
"I don't know. I didn't think perhaps you'd care to come. You see, he has only a poor little dark room, and you are a little prince." Pat's loving admiration was betrayed in every word he spoke, and in the glance of his smiling eyes. He thought Rupert looked prettier than ever with his golden curls blowing about in the breeze, and his little face, with thepeach bloom tanned by the kisses of the sunbeams which had been caressing it these past days. His own stylish little sailor suit had been neatly mended, too, and had not suffered so very much by the long immersion in salt water. The child had an air of refinement and sovereignty about him of which Pat's sensitive Irish nature was keenly conscious. He felt he could lay down his life for this princely child; and understood very well now how it was that real kings and princes in history had got hundreds and thousands of followers to go with them to victory or death. Sometimes before, his mother's stories had puzzled him. He did not quite understand how men had been so easily led to fight against fearful odds. But it was no puzzle to him now. The spirit of hero-worship had entered into his being, and had made many things plain that had perplexed him before.
"If I am a prince, princes must be good," said the golden-haired child, suddenly straightening himself out, and looking at Pat with a new expression in his eyes. It was as if some sudden memory were coming back to him—a memory of something or somebody almostforgotten hitherto. Pat held his breath to watch and listen. "I know that's right. She said so. I remember quite well. She said, 'If you are a prince, you must be a good one,' and she kissed me, and took me in her arms. The sea was all shining over there, just like it shines now. Was it here she said it, Pat?"
Pat shook his head. He was almost as curious as his mother would have been to know who the "she" was whose words the child has just quoted.
But the flash of memory did not seem to go farther, and after a moment's pause, Rupert went back to his former theme, speaking with his baby lisp, yet in words quite intelligible to Pat.
"Take me to see poor Jim. I'd like to see him. I'd like to tell him he's a good man, and that I'm very much obliged to him for pulling me out of the sea. I suppose I should have been drowned if he hadn't got me out in time; shouldn't I, Pat?"
"Yes, indeed you would; I thought you'd be drowned as it was. It seemed such a long time before they could get you both out. Now I'll take you to see poor Jim. I'm sure he'll bepleased, though perhaps he won't seem to be. Jim is rather a funny man; but he's very nice when you know him. You won't be frightened if he looks rather cross at you?"
"Nobody looks cross at me, except nurse, when she's in a bad temper," answered the child serenely. "And only babies and girls are frightened at things. I wasn't frightened when the gull pecked me—you said so yourself."
"No, you weren't, you were very brave," said Pat, in loyal admiration; adding, after a moment's pause, "Now come with me. I'll take you to Jim; but go quietly, in case he's asleep. Mother says he gets so little sleep at night. We won't awake him if he should be asleep now. This is the way, just up these little steep stairs. There are only four of them. Have you never been here before?" and Pat laid his fingers on his lips, and pushed open the door, and peeped cautiously in before he turned back to his companion.
"We can go in. He's not asleep. His eyes are open. It's rather dark, when you first get in, but you'll see better when you've been in a little while. Jim," he added, advancing into the bare little wedge-shaped room which had beenJim's as long as he had been on Lone Rock, "Prince Rupert wants to come and see you. I told him to-day about how you went into the sea after him. He thinks it was very kind of you."
"Lift me on the bed. I can't see him properly," spoke the second visitor in imperious tones, and Pat hastened to obey. The next minute the beautiful child and the rugged faced man were looking straight at each other with mutual curiosity and interest; and after a few seconds spent in this silent inspection, Rupert put out his tiny hand and laid it in Jim's.
"I like you," he said deliberately. "I fink you're a very brave man; and you're a very good one, too. I shall tell my papa about you. I fink he will make you one of his soldiers, or servants, or somefing like that. He will like you very much for coming into the water after me. He likes men when they are brave. He is very brave himself. I shall tell him to take you away from here, and let you be always with him."
Pat listened breathlessly to these words. The little prince had never before spoken in this manner at all.
"Have you got a father?" he asked in eager accents; but Rupert looked at him as though he scarcely understood the question.
"Have you got a papa, little gentleman?" asked Jim, in his very low, faint tones, so unlike the old strong gruff voice that used to rise above the tumult of the winds and the waves.
"TorseI have," answered the child, almost indignantly. "I'll tell my papa about you. He'll like you because you got yourself hurted instead of me. My papa did that himself once. He got nearly killed, instead of somebody else. Mamma told me about it her own self. And the Queen gave him a cross for it. She showed it me. It wasn't so very pretty; but mamma said papa liked it better than anything else he had. Perhaps when I'm a man, I'll get one for myself; but mamma said they only gave them to very brave men. P'raps they'll give one to you, Jim. You're very brave, you know. When my papa comes home, I'll tell him about you. He'll come and see you then. P'raps you'll have a cross, too."
Jim smiled faintly, and stroked the small hand that lay in his palm, rather as he mighthave stroked a delicate rose petal that had floated to him from the sky. He could not talk; but it was a pleasure to lie and look at this beautiful child; and Rupert became all at once wonderfully communicative. He plainly took a strange and wayward liking to Jim, as children will do sometimes to the most unlikely people.
"I feel as though he belonged to me," he remarked later on in the living room, as the mid-day meal was going forward. "You see, he got me out of the water; and I fink my papa will take him for one of his soldiers, because he's so brave. I'm to be a soldier when I grow up. Perhaps I'll have Jim to be my orderly. Papa has an orderly, I know. I suppose he keeps his things tidy for him. I fink I'll have Jim for mine when he gets better. Why doesn't he get better quickly?"
"Because we can't get a doctor to him yet, little gentleman."
"My papa would send one if you'd ask him," said the child, in the same rather magnificent way. "He can send anybody anywhere, I know. He can do anything he likes. My papa is a very great man."
"And where does he live, dear?" asked Eileen breathlessly, realising for the first time that, though the words father and mother conveyed no impression to the child's mind, he had a very decided notion about his papa and mamma, although he had never spoken of them before to-day; but the question was beyond the child's power of answering. He looked perplexed for a moment, and then said—
"They're going home—we're all going home. They'll go home as soon as the big ship gets to land. I suppose they've gone home already," and then he looked about him with wide-open wondering eyes, filled with a vague distress and perplexity; and glancing up into Eileen's face, he asked—
"Is this home? Is this where they are coming to, by-and-by?"
"No, darling," answered Eileen quickly, the tears springing to her eyes as she realised the possibility that the child's parents had found a different home from the one they had talked about to their little boy. "Papa and mamma stayed on the big ship; and if the big ship got safe into port, they would go home when they landed; and we will find out where they are,and you shall go to them. Don't cry, little prince. As soon as ever a boat can come from shore we will find out all about it."
"I don't want to cry," answered the child, whose wondering eyes were quite dry. "I like being here. I like you, and Pat, and Jim, and the gull, and everybody. I fink I'll stay here always. My papa and mamma can come and live with us if they want to; and if they don't, I'll go and see them sometimes. I don't live with them ever—only now and then. I'd like to be a lighthouse keeper, with Jim to help me. I fink I'll live always with you."
"Oh, do, do, do!" cried Pat, clapping his hands, and running across to his little prince, he folded him in his arms in a long embrace. "I should be so unhappy if you went away. Now I am going to give Jim his dinner. Will you come and help me?"
"TorseI will. I like Jim. I'll help you take care of him till he's better;" and the pair went off together, carefully carrying Jim's light repast, while Eileen looked up in perplexity at her husband, and said—
"What does the little fellow mean?—and why doesn't he seem to care more for his parents?He has never cried for them, or seemed to miss them, and yet he knows all about his papa and mamma, as he calls them. I cannot make it out—no, that I can't—such a warm-hearted little fellow as he is, too."
Nat shook his head slowly. The problem was beyond him also.
"May be we'll find out some day. It isn't all fine folks that get the love of their little ones. Perhaps they're too fine to notice him, and he doesn't love them as our little one loves us. But plainly his father is a soldier, and a bit of a grand one, too. I doubt there'll be no trouble in making out who the youngster is, once we get ashore. But if he belongs to them as have no love for him, it will be a hard matter to let him go, though we'll have to do it, I suppose."
Eileen sighed at the thought, but knew it would be inevitable. Yet as the days passed by, the child endeared himself to them more and more by the singular devotion he suddenly conceived for "poor Jim," as he invariably called him. He was in and out of the little dark room morning, noon, and night. He insisted on taking Pat's place on the bed at meal times, and feeding the patient with his owntiny but capable hands. A singular bond grew up between the rough man and the two children, one of whom he had risked his life to save; and in this way the days slipped by, one after another, until the sea went down, the waves ceased to dash themselves against the reef; and Pat came tearing down from the gallery in wild excitement one morning to announce to his mother the fact that the relief boat was coming out to Lone Pock as fast as winds and waves could bring her.
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HELP FROM SHORE
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The two little boys stood hand in hand on the rocks, waving their caps and cheering as the boat came dashing through the foaming waves towards the Lone Rock. The sea was still running high, but approach was possible to those who well understood what they were about. A man stood upright in the bow of the boat, boat-hook in hand, and every few moments he called out some word of warning to those behind him. As the boat neared the rock, the sail came down with a run, and the crew, taking to their oars, rowed carefully and cautiously towards the basin where a boat could float at ease, and where Nat stood, ready to render assistance when the craft should come alongside.
"Glad to see you well and hearty, mate," shouted the man in the bow, as soon as he was within earshot. "We've been anxious about the Lone Rock ever since you signalled for help. We were afeard some harm had befallen you. What's wrong with you here?"
"Jim's on the sick list," shouted Nat back, "can't stir hand or foot. Have you brought a doctor with you, mates?"
"Ay, ay, he's here sure enough, and other things too you may want if you've a sick man with you. Is he too bad to be sent ashore? What's wrong with him?"
"The doctor must tell us that. My wife thinks it's broken ribs. I'll tell you the tale when you get on shore. Steady there with the boat! Ease her a bit and hold her back. There's a big drift running in just here. So steady! Here she comes. Throw me the line, mate. Now she'll do. Keep her steady and fend off from the rocks. So!"
The boys, watching with eager eyes the advance of the boat, cheered aloud when it was safely drawn up in the little creek. The man in the bow, who was an old crony of Nat's, looked at the pair with an air of astonishment.
"Why, Nat, you've never raised another in this time!" he exclaimed; "I never knew you had more than little Pat over here. Where did the second come from? He doesn't look much like a child of yours. He looks as if he's come straight from fairyland, wherever that may be."
"From the sea-fairies, then," answered Nat, with a smile, "for Jim got him out of the water the night when the storm was at its worst. That's how he came by the blow which has laid him by the heels. But the boy never seemed a bit the worse after he came to. He's a wonderful saucy little fellow, gentry-born, as one can see, and as hold as a little lion. Have you heard aught ashore of a child gone overboard in the gale?" The men shook their heads, looking with keen interest at the little golden-headed fellow who was helping Nat to hold the boat, and looking as though everything depended on himself!
"Look alive, men!" he piped out in his high pitched voice. "Tumble out and get ashore! We've been waiting for you ever such a lot of days! Lend a hand, Pat, and hold her steady!"
Laughing and admiring, the men sprangashore, speaking kindly words to Pat, whom most of them knew, and looking with keen interest at the beautiful little boy, who continued to issue his baby commands in such nautical language as he could command.
"He's been afloat before now," said the men one to another. "He's picked up that air from some bo'sun as keeps his men well in order. He's a rare young game-cock, he is! Picked up out of the sea, was he, Nat? We must try and find out where he comes from. Anything about him to say?"
"No; and the spar he came on was not picked up either. That might have told us something; but it was so heavy Jim cut the child loose before we hauled them both in. There's a sort of a mark on some of his underclothes which my wife takes to have been a D before it was well nigh washed out; but it's hard to tell anything now, and all we can get from him is that his name is Prince Rupert, and that his father is a soldier. He seems to know very little about his parents, and the salt water perhaps washed most things out of his head. He hasn't talked but very little of anything he knew before; but he's a bold, merry little chap,and will make a fine sailor one of these days. Doesn't know what fear means!" The men all looked with interest at the little waif, who was busily engrossed with the rope—making fast the boat, as he plainly believed—and ordering Pat about in the most lordly way. His yellow curls were blowing about his rosy face; his big dark eyes were alight with excitement and self-importance. No one could fail to regard the little prince with admiration; and the sailors laughed together, and told Nat he had done a good thing for himself in befriending such a boy as that.
"He comes of fine folks—any one can see that, and they must be real set on such a smart little chap as him," said one, as they began to make their way to the lighthouse, where Eileen stood in the doorway smiling a welcome. "You won't be the loser by being good to him. He's a fine little fellow, and no mistake!"
"So he is," answered Nat, "but I don't want nothing for doing my duty by him. It was Jim as risked his life to save him. If his folks want to do something for him, I'll only think it right and proper, since I doubt if the poor chap will ever be the same again. But I've done nothing, and I want nothing. My wife's hadall the bit of trouble he's been, and she'd do the same for any child that breathed, be he never so poor."
"Ay, that she would," answered more than one voice heartily. "She's a real good one is Eileen;" and then there were pleasant greetings between the bright-faced wife and mother and those who had come to assist the prisoners upon the Lone Hock; whilst the young surgeon, whom the sailors had brought with them, asked to be taken to his patient without more delay.
The boys lingered down by the boat, for the little prince was fascinated by it, and Pat had to show him everything, and explain the use of the various parts.
"We had boats," said Rupert, with his head a little on one side; "but they were fastened up so high I could never see into them. I like this boat. Do you fink we could get in and sail her off round and round the rock till the men want her again?"
But Pat negatived this bold suggestion, and Rupert was reluctantly borne off indoors "to see how poor Jim was getting on," as Pat coaxingly put it, for he was quite afraid the daring little fellow would really try to cast the boatloose and let it drift away. Nat's knots would most likely prove too much for him; but there was no knowing what his determination might not achieve.
The doctor and Eileen were with poor Jim, and the men sat round the table partaking of the meal she had prepared for them, and hearing from Nat the whole history of the storm, and the details of the rescue of the little stranger, which was thought a very interesting piece of intelligence. "We'll do all we can to find out who he is when we get ashore," said the cockswain of the boat, "and we'll leave Robin behind to help you with the lighthouse till something can be settled. You've had a hard time of it, Nat, these last ten days—Jim laid up, and another little 'un on your wife's hands."
"My wife's a jewel," answered Nat, a smile beaming over his honest face. "She's the sort of helpmate for a man like me. Never a word of complaint, however hard the work, and she's always ready to take a watch and let me get a good sleep. Then luckily there was nothing went wrong with the light, and the days were clear and fine. It might have been a good bit worse; not but what I'll be glad enough to haveRobin's help for a spell. I fear me it'll be many weeks before Jim is up to anything again."
"Poor chap, I'm afeard he's a good bit hurt," said another, "but he seems a bit quieter like now. I wonder whether the doctor will let him be took ashore. He's a good bit of trouble to your wife here."
"I san't let Jim be took away," remarked a small voice from about the level of the table; "Jim's my pal. I likes him very much. I tell him tales, and I make him better. I san't let anybody take him away till my papa comes and makes him into a soldier, and then p'raps I'll go too, and everybody here, and we'll all live together somewhere where there's just a little more room. It isn't always just very con-wenient," with a gulp over the long word, "to have water everywhere all round. I fink a garden is better for some fings."
"Did you have a garden where you came from, my little man?" said the cockswain, lifting the child on to his knee amid a general laugh.
"Torsewe did!" answered the child, looking up into the weather-beaten face fearlessly, "a great big garden, with trees and fings, and Iplayed there every day. It was nice; but we hadn't got a sea-gull there, only two dogs. I fink I like a sea-gull best. He makes such nice noises and he dances, too. I fink I shall dig a great big ditch all round the garden, and fill it with the sea, and put a lighthouse in the middle, and Pat and his daddy and my Nan can live with me there; and the sea-gull, too, and then we should have everything, and it would be quite con-wenient for everybody."
"Do you know the name of the house where you lived, my hearty?" asked the man, with beaming face; but Rupert shook his head impatiently, and went chattering on about how his future domain was to be arranged.
"You can come sometimes in your big boat and see us, man," he remarked, "and I'll show you how to sail it in our sea, for I don't expect you'll know how to do it properly. I shall have a boat of my very own then: my papa will give me one. And when I'm not a soldier I shall be a sailor, and I'll teach you how to be one too."
"Thank you, my little man, I'll be sure and come and learn of you," and the child looked a little offended at the general laugh from the rest.
"You needn't bring those men with youanother time," he said, "I don't fink they understand fings properly."
At that moment the young surgeon reappeared with Eileen in his wake. She looked grave and sorrowful, and went to the fire to take off the soup she was preparing, whilst the men glanced up at the doctor, and asked what he thought of his patient.
"We heard him groaning a good bit at first, and Jim isn't one to cry out for naught," said Rupert's friend; "I'm afraid he's a good bit hurt. What do you make of him, sir? Can he be taken ashore?"
"No, he must stay where he is. He could not stand any sort of move yet. He has been badly hurt, and there is a great deal of inflammation about him. He will be easier now that I have bandaged him up right, and his lungs will have a chance of healing; but he has been left much too long without medical aid. If I could have seen him at once, things would have been much better. However, we will hope for the best. Any way, the worst of the pain is over now, unless the inflammation spreads."
"Have you hurted my Jim?" asked Rupert, doubling his little fists and bristling up like ayoung turkey-cock. "If you have, I'll frash you. I won't have my Jim hurted. He came into the water after me. Now I'm taking care of him. You didn't ought to have gone and seen him without my leave!" and he strode up to the doctor as though he meant to inflict condign punishment upon him forthwith.
But the young man understood children, and soon made friends with the young autocrat, now ruling Lone Rock with a rod of iron. He soon got him to talk of himself, and called up many reminiscences of his past life, all of which he carefully noted. From his own better knowledge of the way in which gently-born children lived, he succeeded in eliciting more information from the boy than any of his other new friends had done.
When the little fellow grew tired of talking at last, and went out with Pat to play, the young man made some notes in his pocket book, and turning to Eileen, said—
"Are you anxious to be rid of your young charge? I will take him home to my mother if you like. I am sure she would give him shelter for a time, till he can be traced. Is he not rather a burden to you here?"
"Oh, no, sir, thank you kindly all the same; but unless it's wrong to say so, we's far rather keep him here till his own relations come for him. He's got that into our hearts that he almost seems like one of our own, bless him; and though I know the life's rough, and not what he's been used to, it hasn't seemed to hurt him."
"Hurt him! I should think not!—do the little rogue all the good in the world! There's nothing like roughing it a little to make a man of a boy brought up in luxury. Lone Rock discipline will be good for him in more ways than one. I was only thinking you would be rather full here with your patient and this boy, as well as the extra man left to help your husband; but you know best."
"Oh, the little fellow takes no room. He shares Pat's bed, and the two play together and help me with poor Jim, and I think they'd pine if they were took from each other now. Thank you kindly all the same, sir. Did you make out from the little boy who he was or where he came from?"
"Not exactly, but I think it's plain that he's been separated from his parents for some while,and that his father is either an officer in the army, or else holds some important official position in India. The child has been plainly made to understand that he is a very great man, and lives in kingly state somewhere. I think I have found out enough to help materially in identifying the boy when we set about to find out his belongings. He appears to be an only child of wealthy parents; and there will be inquiries after him along the coast, even if it is only for some trace of the drowned body. He could not have been so very long in the water before you got him, or he would have been more difficult to bring to life. It has been a wonderful escape, look at it as you will; and I hope that those to whom he belongs will do something for that brave fellow who risked his life for him; for I greatly fear he has received an injury which will disable him from active labour for the rest of his life. It is difficult to tell so soon, but I have my fears that it will be so. I will come over again in the course of a week and see him, if it is possible. Meantime, you can only go on as you have been doing, and I hope, now the bandaging has been done which was so much needed, that he will be easier. Isee you are a very good nurse, and I leave him in your hands with every confidence."
"I will do what I can for him, sir, I'm sure; for he is a brave man, and he went to what might well have been his death without a thought for himself. But it's a hard thing to be laid aside at his age, especially since he has no friends to go to, and no relatives to help him. He's had a very lonely life of it, and a hard one, has poor Jim. It seems as though it was to be hard to the very end."
"We will hope there are brighter days coming for him," answered the young surgeon cheerfully; "I shall certainly make it known, if we succeed in tracing this child, that Jim has received these injuries in saving him from certain death. I cannot believe he will be allowed to suffer in consequence—suffer any sort of want, I mean. Poor fellow, he has had suffering enough of another kind, and may have more still, though I hope what I have done will give him ease."
And then the doctor went down to the boat where the crew were by this time waiting for him. The children were there, too, and cheered lustily as the boat put off into the big waves beyond the little creek. Rupert had stoutlyresisted the blandishments of the cockswain, and had quite declined to let himself be taken from "his Nan," as he had called Eileen almost from the first. He was in charge of the lighthouse, he gravely asserted, and he couldn't possibly go away unless his father came for him. He was very busy every day, helping to keep the light burning, and taking care of Jim. He was far too important a person to be spared, and he flatly refused to be taken away by anybody.
"Now we'll come and tell Jim all about it," he said, as soon as the boat had grown small and insignificant in the distance; and as Jim was looking rather better by that time, he was pleased for Rupert to climb upon the bed and tell him all that had been said and done.
"They wanted to take you away, but I wouldn't allow it," said the little autocrat; "I said you'd like better to stay here, and that I'd frash anybody who took you away. I san't let you go to anybody except my papa, and if he takes you we'll all go and have a lighthouse of our own somewhere else, where there isn't so much water. I fink it's a pity to put them in the middle of the sea; they'd be more con-wenient in a garden where we could get at them moreeasily. We'll have our lighthouse in a garden when we go away from here."
Then Pat stole in with his soft step, and Jim looked at the Bible that lay beside him, and Pat took it and read a story, and explained it to Rupert as he was used to do now. The little boy liked this wind up of the day almost as much as Jim, and was always very attentive.
"I'll say my prayers to Jim to-night," he remarked suddenly, when the reading had concluded, "because I fink he's a very good man. I want him to get quite better, so we'll ask Jesus if He won't make him. I fink He must love poor Jim very much!"
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A WONDERFUL DAY
T
The two little boys were up in the gallery. Nat was burnishing the reflectors and overlooking the great She, whose wonderful individuality was taking a strong hold upon the imagination of both the children. Rupert knew almost all Pat's stories about the wonderful creature who slept all the day, but waked up to keep watch all the night, and he was never tired of watching her cleaned and fed; but the process lasted longer some days than others, and they would vary the morning's work by going out upon the sunny gallery, and calling out to the men at work within what vessels were in sight, and where they seemed to be going. And whilst thus occupied, Rupert would generally demand that Pat should tellhim some of Jim's many stories, many of which they would try to enact between them, making believe that the gallery was the deck of a ship, and that they were the officers in charge. Pat's vivid imagination, inherited from his mother, made this kind of make-believe easy and entrancing to him, and Rupert delighted in it, and in flourishing about and being the lord and master of everything and everybody. He was growing so brown and sturdy that it was a treat to look at him, and Pat had increased in health and strength visibly since he had had a little playmate to romp with. Before that he had been inclined to spend rather too much time in sitting and thinking. The sea and the rocks and the sky gave him many strange ideas; and there was Jim, too, who wanted so often to know things that took a great deal of puzzling out. Pat had liked all the thinking, being of a cogitative turn, but it was better for him to run about and shout and play more, and to sit and ponder rather less. The parents looked in wonder at him sometimes, remembering how all last winter he had seemed wasting away, and had fallen into a state from which it seemed as though nothing but a miracle could lift him.They could not be thankful enough for the wonderful change. The dreamy wistfulness which had lingered so long in his eyes, was changing now to something more boyish and healthy. He did not look as though he were always walking on the border-land of the unseen world. The romps and merry games with his little companion were fast making a boy of him again, and Nat looked with hearty satisfaction at the change.
A merry rosy pair they were up aloft to-day, and their shouts of glee rang cheerily over the dancing water. Eileen now and again heard them as she sat at her needle below, and she would smile and glance upwards, as though to try and see what the urchins were about. To-day was a glad one at the lighthouse, for Jim had taken a decided turn for the better. Now that the broken ribs were properly set and in place, and no longer pressing upon the organs they had injured, he was relieved of the worst of the pain. He had been able to sleep and eat better, and to-day he felt so strong that he had coaxed Nat and Eileen to let him get up and sit beside the fire in the living room, well wrapped up in blankets, and with plenty of rugs abouthim. The doctor had said he might do this if he felt well enough, as a change of posture might be a relief. The children had watched the move with great interest; but had been sent upstairs after a while to let Jim rest and be quiet. The mother had told Pat to go and look out whether any boat from shore might not be coming to the rock. It was a fine day, and the week had expired which was to bring the doctor for another visit. He might come any day now; and the children were delighted to go up aloft and play the game of "look-out man," as they called it.
There were a good many fishing boats out in the bay, and Rupert had been certain that every one of them was coming to Lone Rock, till at last he had grown weary of watching, had declared that nobody was coming to-day, and had suggested another game at which they had played some time. When, however, they were tired of this, Pat had gone to the rail to look over, and now he called to Rupert with some excitement.
"Come and look! Come and look!" he called out, "I do believe that boat is coming here! Look how she skims along! What a pretty one she is! How white her sail is!And doesn't she go fast! I don't know that boat, Prince Rupert. I don't think she belongs in the bay. Yet she looks just as if she was coming here. Shall I call father and ask him what he thinks? She doesn't turn or tack. She comes straight, straight on. Oh, I do hope she is coming! Perhaps she has got something for you on board."
"Perhaps it is my papa come for me," said Rupert, not looking as though he knew exactly whether he relished this thought or not, "but I'm not sure that I'll go away with him if it is. I like being here. I like playing lighthouse games. I didn't have anybody to play with me before. I don't much fink I will go with him if he comes. I fink I'll belong to you're father and mother. I like them very much."
Pat, not quite knowing how to reply, and greatly moved in spirit in case this pretty white-sailed boat should be coming to rob them of their darling, hastily called his father, who came out into the bright sunshine, and shaded his eyes with his hand.
"It looks as though she were making for Lone Rock," he said, "and it's no boat fromour bay, Pat; it's a better built and better-rigged craft than we often see in these parts. It's a yacht's boat by the look of her, and a tidy little craft she is. Well, well, we shall soon know; but she's heading for Lone Rock as sure as fate; and it's not the coast-guard inspection, neither. That boat belongs to some gentleman, I'll be bound," and the man's eyes turned towards the little fellow beside him with a look that Pat understood in a moment. His eyes filled with tears, and for a moment everything swam in a golden haze. They were coming to take away his little prince, the darling little boy who had become the first object in his life. However should he bear to let him go? It did not do to think about it. If he thought, he would surely cry, and that would be a pity, for perhaps Rupert would cry too, and it would never do for his parents to find him in tears, they would think he had been badly treated, and take him away as quick as thought. No, he must put a brave face on, and try to make the best of it. Perhaps Prince Rupert would decide not to go, and Pat could hardly believe that his word would not be law if he once boldly asserted his determination.
"Shall we go down and watch her come in, and tell her how to make the creek?" he asked of the child, and Rupert assented gladly.
Nat, too, descended the winding steps with the two children, and as he passed out he said to his wife—
"I believe the little fellow's friends are coming for him, wifie. There's a boat on its way that doesn't belong to our parts. Make the place as bright as you can, and set some food on the table. I'll make them welcome to come in if they have a mind. May be they'll like to see the place as their little boy has lived in these last weeks."
Eileen's kitchen was always neat and trim, and she soon whisked out a bright table-cover, and a few bits of ornaments, to smarten up the place, as she did for Sundays and holidays, or when summer guests were expected. Jim still sat by the fire dozing, and scarcely alive to what was passing; but it was out of the question to think of moving him again so soon. There he was and there he must remain; but she cast a quick eye all over her small domain, and saw that everything else was in order; and then shewent out to see what was happening outside.
The children were standing below on the rocks, for the tide was ebbing, and nearly low. The sun caught the yellow curls of the little prince, and made them shine like gold. He was visibly excited, and kept hopping from one foot to another, whilst Pat held his hand in a close, protecting clasp, and kept him from slipping in his excitement, and falling amongst the wet sea-weed.
Nearer and nearer came the pretty boat, skimming its way through the water like a white-winged sea-bird. It was manned by sailors in uniform; plainly it was what Nat had said, the boat from some gentleman's yacht. "That's our boat, I do believe!" cried little Rupert, as it drew near. "Our men wear tings like that on their heads. I fink papa must have sent them to fetch me!"