Mr. Brudenel, as has been said, met Sunshine while on his morning ride, and returned in desperate haste to gather up his men, and the ammunition, etc., necessary for the skirmish which he knew was in store for them.
He met his wife, who, perceiving that some unusual event had happened, came anxiously to meet him.
"What is it, my dear?" asked she.
"Don't delay me, wifey," said he in violent hurry. "A girl has brought in an account of a daring outbreak of dacoity. From her story I hope to catch the fellow I have been looking out for this long time. Don't be frightened if I don't come home to-night, the place is some way off, and there will be a scrimmage; but all will go well, I hope."
"A scrimmage!" exclaimed Mrs. Brudenel in terror. "Oh, Harry!"
"Don't be a little goose, my dear; such things must come sometimes. There, kiss me,—don't worry yourself, good-bye. Take care of the girl till I come back," shouted he at the last moment, mounting his pony, and calling back over his shoulder, preparing to follow his men out of the compound.
He was gone, and his wife's eyes were so full of tears that she could not see him to the very last. The clatter of the ponies' feet faded away, and she re-entered the house.Mr. Gilchrist, who had been taking an early ramble, met her. "What is all the excitement about?" asked he.
"I hardly know," replied she; "some Burmese girl has brought news of dacoits, and Harry has gone to see about it. He expects to fight, and I am so frightened."
The tears gathered again, and rolled down her white cheeks.
"Don't alarm yourself, my dear young lady," said Mr. Gilchrist kindly. "Your husband has gone through such things a dozen times before safely, and we will hope that all will be right again. Where is the girl? Shall I talk to her and find out all about it?"
"Oh, I would besomuch obliged if you would! I cannot understand half that the people say yet."
Sunshine was in the cook's house, being fed and comforted by the servants. Mr. Gilchrist began to talk to her, and had not exchanged many sentences before his interest deepened into great excitement.
"Osborn!—Wills!" he cried, "come here and listen. This girl says that there are young Englishmen in the village, is it possible that one could be our dear Ralph? What did you say they are called, my dear?"
But the soft nature of the Burmese language utterly refused to accommodate itself to the harsh sounds of our friends' names. "Ralph" had always been pronounced "Yabé," and "Kirke" had been quite unmanageable, so he had proposed being called "Jamie," which was rendered "Yamie."
"Yabé" and "Yamie" puzzled Mr. Gilchrist, who did not know that Kirke was christened James. "What are the Englishmen like, girl?"
"Yamie is big, oh, so big!" said she. "He is good, but his eyes do not laugh like those of Yabé. They have dark fire in them, and he has hair all round," passing her handabout the lower part of her face. "It is like the jungle bushes."
"What colour?" asked Wills.
"Like yours," said she.
Wills was black-haired and grizzled. His face fell. "He is old, then?" asked he.
"No, young," replied Sunshine. "Young as a father."
"It cannot be Ralph," said he.
"That is what he calls the other," said Sunshine; "Yabé, that is what he calls him. Moung Yabé, Moung Shway Yabé, I say, for he is good, oh, so good! He came for me when thethok'keeblazed, and all was on fire; he saved me, and took Me Poh on his back, and saved her from those beloos of thieves, and from the hot fire. Oh, Moung Yabé is strong and good, as gold—fine gold. My dear Moung Shway Paya Yabé."
"Is he like me, too?" asked old Wills.
Sunshine laughed out all over her face, her eyes danced with merriment. "Oh, no, no, no!" she cried. "Moung Yabé young, Moung Yabé beautiful! He laugh like Sunshine; he gay, he play with little Sunshine, throw roses at her, run after her—dance, sing. All the girls love Moung Yabé, my Moung Shway Yabé! Oh," she resumed, breaking down all at once into sorrow, "if the good soldiers are only in time to save my Moung Yabé from those beloos!"
The men looked at each other. "Can it be Ralph?" they asked, hope dawning upon each in turn.
"Ishishair like the jungle bushes?" inquired Gilchrist.
"No, no!" said Sunshine, cheering up again. "Moung Yabé is Shway Yabé, golden boy, white as the lady, no hair here," again passing her hand over her face.
Sudden inspiration seized upon Osborn, "Does he sing like this?" asked he, beginning Ralph's well-known "I'll bang my harp on a willow tree."
Sunshine laughed outright. "That is my Moung Yabé's music," said she; and, making it into a literal song without words, she finished the air with great glee.
"My God!—my God is merciful!" ejaculated Mr. Gilchrist. "Osborn, my pony; quick, quick!"
"Oh! are you going to help Mr. Brudenel?" asked his wife. "How good of you! You will keep him safe, won't you, and bring him back unhurt?"
"Tell her, Wills!" shouted Mr. Gilchrist, forgetting his manners utterly as he rushed out to the stable.
Osborn was as excited as he; they snatched down their saddles, had them upon their ponies in three minutes, and were tearing out of the compound before Mrs. Brudenel comprehended anything of the matter.
Wills, indeed, forgot her interest, and the danger to her husband, in his wistful longing to accompany them. "I wish, I do wish I could ha' gone too," sighed he; but there was not a beast left in the stable now, all had gone, and only the servants of the house remained.
By degrees the lady's questions recalled him to the present, and he told her all. There was much mystery about Sunshine's story even now. Who the Englishman was who had so much gold, and who had arrived in the village alone, and been so ill there, was a great puzzle. Sunshine said that he knew Moung Yabé, they were brothers,—"Dohs,"—whether "thway-thouks" or blood-drinkers she did not know.
She here alluded to a peculiar custom among the Burmans, of two friends swearing to be brothers to each other, and in some cases cementing the alliance by drinking water mixed with drops of blood taken from each others' arms.
Yabé, Sunshine said, had come across the river, naked, and had nothing with him but a little packet of plantswhich must have been charmed, and protected him from wild beasts in the jungle. He could not have come naked through the wild jungle unless the "nats" had taken care of him. Where he came from Sunshine did not know. Yamie had paid her mother for making clothes for him such as he wore himself; made from native cloth, but not "putsoes."
The plants seemed to point yet more directly to the stranger being identical with Denham, but who could "Yamie" be? And how did Denham arrive there, and in such a condition?
But Mrs. Brudenel was sure that it must be Ralph. She set herself to make every possible preparation, and the occupation helped her to pass that anxious day.
Sunshine, as soon as she had told all she knew, being well fed and made comfortable, fell sound asleep on a mat in the verandah, and rested from her fatigues.
Hour passed after hour, and none of the men returned. Mrs. Brudenel became sick with apprehension, nor was old Wills much better. Neither of them retired to rest that night, for they hoped that some of the party would return every moment. They sat together, each trying to keep up a brave face before the other, but neither of them much deceived.
Mrs. Brudenel went to her room, ever and anon, and sank on her knees to pray for the beloved of her heart. Then she brought her Bible, and read aloud to the old seaman soothing words of promise. It helped them both more than anything else could have done.
With the earliest dawn breakfast was prepared, but no one came to partake of it. The butler cleared it away, and laid tiffin, but no one could touch it.
Mrs. Brudenel's ayah, who was much attached to her kind young mistress, brought a glass of claret and a biscuit to her, and begged her to take it so earnestly that shewould not refuse, and she persuaded Wills to have the same.
Then the long waiting recommenced, and then a restless pacing of the verandah, the walks in the compound, the house itself. They could settle to nothing.
At last a servant ran up to the drawing-room window, when Mrs. Brudenel's eyes were bent down upon her Bible, and, for the twentieth time, she was trying to calm her beating pulses with the words, "Let not your heart be troubled."
"They come, lady! They come, missie! Master is come!"
She sprang to her feet. Yes, there was Mr. Brudenel at the head of his men, crossing the ford in the valley beneath her feet. There was Mr. Gilchrist, waving his hat frantically. There was Osborn, hand to mouth, evidently yelling out "Hooray!" at the top of his voice, though still too far off to be heard.
And who else? Behind Mr. Gilchrist appeared a slim, fair-haired lad, in a loose dress of dark native cloth and a wide palm-leaf hat. He lifted his head at Osborn's wild gestures, and waved his hat to Wills.
"Oh, my God, I thank Thee, I humbly thank Thee!" ejaculated the old man fervently.
The servants almost tumbled over each other in their excited haste to see, to prepare, to welcome. Mrs. Brudenel and old Wills shook hands, with streaming eyes, under the relief from the intense strain upon their spirits through so many hours.
The troop entered the compound, and was surrounded by the eager household.
"We have him, Wills," was heard in Mr. Gilchrist's glad voice.
"My Yabé! My Moung Shway boy!" cried Sunshine.
"Oh, Harry! Harry!" sobbed Mrs. Brudenel, clinging to him.
"My boy, my boy! My dear young master!" exclaimed old Wills.
"Where are the dacoits' heads?" asked the men-servants.
"Was anyone hurt?" asked the ayah, mother to one of the men.
All spoke at once, no one answered anybody else. Ralph nearly wrung Wills' hands off; Osborn thumped him on the back, and slapped his own thighs with triumphant joy; while Mr. Gilchrist's face, as he presented Ralph to Mrs. Brudenel, with his hand upon the lad's shoulder, was good to see.
There were fervent thanksgivings in that house before the inmates retired, but there was little explanation of all which had occurred until, after a quiet night's rest, they all reassembled in the early morning. Then Ralph, in a simple, straightforward manner, recounted his adventures,—told of Kirke's repentance, his goodness to himself, his bravery, and his gallant defence of the village.
"Oh, how well he redeemed the past!" mourned he. "What a fine fellow he was after all, and he has gone without anyone knowing of what he did! I loved him,—he earned the love of all, and the respect too."
The dacoits had been sent to Rangoon for trial, and were all hanged eventually, many crimes being traced to their score.
Ralph's adventures were now at an end; Mr. Gilchrist gave up his wanderings, and went down to Rangoon with him, under the escort of Mr. Brudenel, when that gentleman went to give evidence against the tiger dacoit. He went the more willingly inasmuch as Ralph's little orchids proved to be of a hitherto unknown species, and very valuable.
Sunshine, plentifully rewarded, was restored safely to her friends, and all the houses were rebuilt better and stronger than before.
Great treasures of English manufacture reached the place from time to time; for Ralph never forgot the children with whom he had played, the women who had tended him, the men who had fought by his side, or the grave of him who had been his worst enemy and his greatest friend.
To that man's father he wrote, making light of his failings, but detailing his gallantry at every point.
In course of time he received an answer, which ran as follows:—
"Sir,—I thank you for the comfort which you have given me regarding my dear son. Your letter, with his confession, and attempt to redeem his past, are an old man's greatest treasures, and shall lie on his breast when life shall be no more."
"Sir,—I thank you for the comfort which you have given me regarding my dear son. Your letter, with his confession, and attempt to redeem his past, are an old man's greatest treasures, and shall lie on his breast when life shall be no more."
Ralph rose to wealth and repute in Rangoon, and was always a comfort to his mother, the joy of her heart.
Mr. Gilchrist became a great scientific botanist, and published many a volume upon the jungles of Burma.
The romantic old French town of Nantes, near the estuary of the Loire, and only thirty-five miles away from the sea, has the honour of having been the birthplace of Jules Verne, the author of bewitching stories that have now fascinated three generations of girls and boys.
Jules Verne was many years before he found where his strength lay. He was educated at Nantes, and then he went to Paris to study law. Next he began to write plays and comedies, some of which reached the stage; and it was not until the year 1863, when he was thirty-five years of age, that he went to a publisher in Paris, with a story entitled,Five Weeks in a Balloon, and so began that very long list of books by which he has become famous.
Jules Verne delighted to live inLe Saint Michel, a small yacht of eight or ten tons, in which was a large chest that contained the boat's library. On board this yacht Jules Verne thought out some of his wonderful romances. Usually his trips were from Crotoy to Harve; but at times he took in more provisions and fared forth to the coasts of Normandy, Brittany, and even of England.
Each reader will decide for himself which of Jules Verne's captivating stories he likes best; but the critics mentionDropped from the CloudsandAround the World in Eighty Daysas the books which stand apart from the others. Some of our most attractive stories are about islands:Robinson Crusoeand Robert Louis Stevenson'sTreasure Island, and Verne'sThe Mysterious Islandis fit to rank with these. Under this one title we have a group of three separate volumes. First comesDropped from the Clouds, thenAbandoned, and the whole narrative is completed byThe Secret of the Island. The boy who embarks upon the reading of these three books has a long period of excitement and delight stretching in front of him. The very numerous pictures, too, in these three memorable volumes are very arresting.
Jules Verne died on March 24, 1905, at Amiens when he was seventy-seven years of age, and he left a long list of books.
FOOTNOTES:[1]Golden is a term of approval or endearment.[2]Pyin=lazy[3]Native pony.
[1]Golden is a term of approval or endearment.
[1]Golden is a term of approval or endearment.
[2]Pyin=lazy
[2]Pyin=lazy
[3]Native pony.
[3]Native pony.