Brave and Bold

H >> Horatio Alger, Jr. >> Brave and Bold

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"It is such a splendid thing he did. He will be quite a hero. Indeed, he
is one already. I've got a New York paper giving an account of the
whole thing. I brought it over, thinking you might like to read it."

She displayed a copy of a great city daily, in which full justice was
done to Robert's bravery. Our hero listened with modest pleasure while
it was being read.

"I don't deserve all that," he said.

"You must let us judge of that," said Hester. "But I have come this
evening, Mrs. Rushton, to ask you to take tea with us to-morrow evening,
you and Robert. You will come, won't you?"

Mrs. Rushton was pleased with this mark of attention, and after a slight
demur, accepted.

I do not intend to give an account of the next evening, and how Robert,
in particular, enjoyed it. That can be imagined, as well as Halbert's
chagrin when he heard of the attention his rival was receiving in a
quarter where he himself so earnestly desired to stand well. I must pass
on to a communication received by Mrs. Rushton, a communication of a
very unexpected character, which had an important effect upon the
fortunes of our hero.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE MESSAGE FROM THE SEA.

It was not often that Mrs. Rushton received a letter. Neither she nor
her husband had possessed many relatives, and such as either had were
occupied with their own families, and little communication passed
between them and Captain Rushton's family. Robert, therefore, seldom
called at the post office. One day, however, as he stepped in by a
neighbor's request to inquire for letters for the latter, the postmaster
said, "There's a letter for your mother, Robert."

"Is there?" said our hero, surprised, "When did it come?"

"Yesterday. I was going to ask some one to carry it round to her, as you
don't often call here."

He handed the letter to Robert, who surveyed it with curiosity. It was
postmarked "Boston," and addressed in a bold business hand to "Mrs.
Captain Rushton, Millville."

"Who can be writing to mother from Boston?" thought Robert.

The size of the letter also excited his curiosity. There were two stamps
upon it, and it appeared bulky. Robert hurried home, and rushed into the
kitchen where his mother was at work.

"Here's a letter for you, mother," he said.

"A letter for me!" repeated Mrs. Rushton.

"From Boston."

"I don't know who would be likely to write me from there. Open it for
me, Robert."

He tore open the envelope. It contained two inclosures--one a letter in
the same handwriting as the address; the other a large sheet of foolscap
rumpled up, and appearing once to have been rolled up, was written in
pencil. Mrs. Rushton had no sooner looked at the latter than she
exclaimed, in agitation: "Robert, it is your father's handwriting. Read
it to me, I am too agitated to make it out."

Robert was equally excited. Was his father still alive, or was this
letter a communication from the dead?

"First let me read the other," he said. "It will explain about this."

His mother sank back into a chair too weak with agitation to stand,
while her son rapidly read the following letter:

"BOSTON, August 15, 1853.

MRS. RUSHTON, DEAR MADAM: The fate
of our ship _Norman_, which left this port now
more than two years since, under the command
of your husband, has until now been veiled
in uncertainty. We had given up all hopes
of obtaining any light upon the circumstances
of its loss, when by a singular chance information
was brought us yesterday. The ship
_Argo_, while in the South Pacific, picked up
a bottle floating upon the surface of the water.
On opening it, it was found to contain two
communications, one addressed to us, the other
to you, the latter to be forwarded to you by
us. Ours contains the particulars of the loss
of the _Norman_, and doubtless your own letter
also contains the same particulars. There
is a bare possibility that your husband is still
alive, but as so long a period has passed since
the letters were written it would not be well
to place too much confidence in such a hope.
But even if Captain Rushton is dead, it will be
a sad satisfaction to you to receive from him
this last communication, and learn the particulars
of his loss. We lose no time in forwarding
to you the letter referred to, and remain,
with much sympathy, yours respectfully,

WINSLOW & CO."

Mrs. Rushton listened to this letter with eager and painful interest,
her hands clasped, and her eyes fixed upon Robert.

"Now read your father's letter," she said, in a low tone.

Robert unfolded the sheet, and his eyes filled with tears as he gazed
upon the well-known handwriting of the father whose loss he had so long
lamented. This letter, too, we transcribe:

"November 7, 1851.

MY DEAR WIFE AND SON: Whether these
lines will ever meet your eyes I know not.
Whether I will be permitted again to look upon
your dear faces, I also am ignorant. The good
ship _Norman_, in which I sailed from Boston
not quite three months ago, is burned to the water's
edge, and I find myself, with five of the
sailors, afloat on the vast sea at the mercy of
the elements, and with a limited supply of food.
The chances are against our ever seeing land.
Hundreds of miles away from any known
shores, our only hope of safety is in attracting
the attention of some vessel. In the broad pathways
of the ocean such a chance is doubtful.
Fortunately I have a few sheets of paper
and a pencil with me, and I write these
lines, knowing well how improbable it is that
you will ever read them. Yet it is a satisfaction
to do what I can to let you know the
position in which I stand.

But for the revengeful and malignant disposition
of one man I should still be walking
the deck of the _Norman_ as its captain.
But to my story: My first mate was a man
named Haley--Benjamin Haley--whose name
you will perhaps remember. He was born in
our neighborhood, or, at all events, once lived
there, being the nephew of old Paul Nichols.
He was a wild young man, and bore a bad reputation.
Finally he disappeared, and, as it
seems, embraced the profession of a sailor. I
was not prepossessed in his favor, and was not
very well pleased to find him my second in
command. However, he was regularly engaged,
and it was of no use for me to say anything
against him. I think, however, that he
suspected the state of my feelings, as, while
studiously polite, I did not make an effort
to be cordial. At any rate, he must have taken
a dislike to me early in the voyage, though
whether at that time he meditated evil, I cannot
say.

After a time I found that he was disposed
to encroach upon my prerogatives as captain
of the vessel, and issue commands which he
knew to be in defiance of my wishes. You can
imagine that I would not pass over such conduct
unnoticed. I summoned him to an interview,
and informed him in decided terms
that I must be master in my own ship. He
said little, but I saw from his expression that
there could thereafter be no amicable relations
between us.

I pass over the days that succeeded--days
in which Haley went to the furthest verge of
insolence that he felt would be safe. At
length, carried away by impatience, I reprimanded
him publicly. He grew pale with
passion, turned on his heel, and strode away.
That night I was roused from my sleep by the
cry of 'Fire!' I sprang to my feet and took
immediate measures to extinguish the flames.
But the incendiary had taken care to do his
work so well that it was already impossible.

I did not at first miss Haley, until, inquiring
for him, I learned that he was missing, and
one of the ship's boats. It was evident that
he had deliberately fired the ship in order
to revenge himself upon me. His hatred
must have been extreme, or he would not have
been willing to incur so great a risk. Though
he escaped from the ship, his position in an
open boat must be extremely perilous.

When all hope of saving the ship was
abandoned, we manned the remaining boats
hastily, putting in each such a stock of provisions
as we could carry without overloading the
boats. Twenty-four hours have now passed,
and we are still tossing about on the ocean.
A storm would be our destruction. At this
solemn time, my dear wife, my thoughts turn
to you and my dear son, whom I am likely
never to see again. There is one thing most
of all which I wish you to know, but can hardly
hope that these few lines will reach you. Just
before I left home, on my present voyage, I
deposited five thousand dollars with Mr. Davis,
the superintendent of the factory, in trust for
you, in case I should not return. You will
be surprised to learn that I have so much
money. It has been the accumulation of years,
and was intended as a provision for you and
Robert. I have no reason to doubt the integrity
of Mr. Davis, yet I wish I had acquainted
you with the fact of this deposit, and placed
his written acknowledgment in your hands.
My reason for concealment was, that I might
surprise you at the end of this voyage.

When this letter comes to hand (if it ever
should come to hand), in case the superintendent
has not accounted to you for the money
placed in his hands, let Robert go to him and
claim the money in my name. But I can hardly
believe this to be necessary. Should I never
return, I am persuaded that Mr. Davis will
be true to the trust I have reposed in him,
and come forward like an honest man to your
relief.

And now, my dear wife and son, farewell!
My hope is weak that I shall ever again see
you, yet it is possible. May Heaven bless you,
and permit us to meet again in another world,
if not in this!

I shall inclose this letter, and one to my
owners, in a bottle, which I have by me, and
commit it to the sea, trusting that the merciful
waves may waft it to the shore."

Here Captain Rushton signed his name.

The feelings with which Robert read and his mother listened to this
letter, were varied. Love and pity for the husband and father, now
doubtless long dead, were blended with surprise at the revelation of the
deposit made in the hands of the superintendent of the mill.

"Mother," said Robert, "did you know anything of this money father
speaks of?"

"No," said Mrs. Rushton, "he never told me. It is strange that Mr. Davis
has never informed us of it. Two years have passed, and we have long
given him up as lost."

"Mother," said Robert, "it is my opinion that he never intends to let us
know."

"I cannot believe he would be so dishonorable."

"But why should he keep back the knowledge? He knows that we are poor
and need the money."

"But he has the reputation of an honorable man."

"Many have had that reputation who do not deserve it," said Robert.
"The temptation must have proved too strong for him."

"What shall we do?"

"I know what I am going to do," said Robert, resolutely. "I am going to
his house, and shall claim restitution of the money which father
intrusted to him. He has had it two years, and, with the interest, it
will amount to nearer six than five thousand dollars. It will be a
fortune, mother."

"Don't be hasty or impetuous, Robert," said his mother. "Speak to him
respectfully."

"I shall be civil if he is," said Robert.

He took his cap, and putting it on, left the cottage and walked with a
quick pace to the house of the superintendent.

CHAPTER XX.

A DISAGEEEABLE SURPRISE.

Mr. Davis was seated in his office, but it was his own personal affairs
rather than the business of the factory that engaged his attention. He
was just in receipt of a letter from his broker in New York, stating
that there were but slender chances of a rise in the price of some
securities in which he had invested heavily. He was advised to sell out
at once, in order to guard against a probable further depreciation. This
was far from satisfactory, since an immediate sale would involve a loss
of nearly a thousand dollars. Mr. Davis felt despondent, and, in
consequence, irritable. It was at this moment that one of the factory
hands came in and told him that Robert Rushton wished to see him.

The superintendent would have refused an interview but for one
consideration. He thought that our hero was about to beg to be taken
back into his employ. This request he intended to refuse, and enjoyed in
advance the humiliation of young Rushton.

"Good-morning, sir," said Robert, removing his hat on entering.

"I suppose you want to be taken back," said the superintendent,
abruptly.

"No, sir," said Robert. "I have come on quite a different errand."

Mr. Davis was disappointed. He was cheated of his expected triumph.
Moreover, looking into our young hero's face, he saw that he was
entirely self-possessed, and had by no means the air of one about to ask
a favor.

"Then state your business at once," he said, roughly. "My time is too
valuable to be taken up by trifles."

"My business is important to both of us," said Robert. "We have just
received a letter from my father."

The superintendent started and turned pale. This was the most unwelcome
intelligence he could have received. He supposed, of course, that
Captain Rushton was alive, and likely to reclaim the sum, which he was
in no position to surrender,

"Your father!" he stammered. "Where is he? I thought he was dead."

"I am afraid he is," said Robert, soberly.

"Then how can you just have received a letter from him?" demanded Mr.
Davis, recovering from his momentary dismay.

"The letter was inclosed in a bottle, which was picked up in the South
Pacific, and brought to the owners of the vessel. My father's ship was
burned to the water's edge, and at the time of writing the letter he was
afloat on the ocean with five of his sailors in a small boat."

"How long ago was this? I mean when was the letter dated."

"Nearly two years ago--in the November after he sailed."

"Then, of course, he must have perished," said the superintendent, with
a feeling of satisfaction. "However, I suppose your mother is glad to
have heard from him. Is that all you have to tell me?"

"No, sir," said Robert, looking boldly in the face of his former
employer. "My father added in his letter, that just before sailing he
deposited with you the sum of five thousand dollars, to be given to my
mother in case he never returned."

So the worst had come! The dead had revealed the secret which the
superintendent hoped would never be known. He was threatened with ruin.
He had no means of paying the deposit unless by sacrificing all his
property, and it was doubtful whether even then he would be able wholly
to make it up. If Robert possessed his acknowledgment he would have no
defense to make. This he must ascertain before committing himself.

"Supposing this story to be true," he said, in a half-sneering tone,
"you are, of course, prepared to show me my receipt for the money?"

"That my father carried away with him. He did not send it with the
letter."

All the superintendent's confidence returned. He no longer felt afraid,
since all evidence of the deposit was doubtless at the bottom of the sea
with the ill-fated captain. He resolved to deny the trust altogether.

"Rushton," he said, "I have listened patiently to what you had to say,
and in return I answer that in the whole course of my life I have never
known of a more barefaced attempt at fraud. In this case you have
selected the wrong customer."

"What!" exclaimed Robert, hardly crediting the testimony of his ears;
"do you mean to deny that my father deposited five thousand dollars with
you just before sailing on his last voyage?"

"I certainly do, and in the most unqualified terms. Had such been the
case, do you think I would have kept the knowledge of it from your
mother so long after your father's supposed death?"

"There might be reasons for that," said Robert, significantly.

"None of your impertinent insinuations, you young rascal," said Mr.
Davis, hotly. "The best advice I can give you is, to say nothing to any
one about this extraordinary claim. It will only injure you, and I shall
be compelled to resort to legal measures to punish you for circulating
stories calculated to injure my reputation."

If the superintendent expected to intimidate Robert by this menace he
was entirely mistaken in the character of our young hero. He bore the
angry words and threatening glances of his enemy without quailing, as
resolute and determined as ever.

"Mr. Davis," he said, "if there is no truth in this story, do you think
my father, with death before his eyes, would have written it to my
mother?"

"I have no evidence, except your word, that any such letter has been
received."

"I can show it to you, if you desire it, in my father's handwriting."

"We will suppose, then, for a moment, that such a letter has been
received, and was written by your father. I can understand how, being
about to die, and feeling that his family were without provision, he
should have written such a letter with the intention of giving you a
claim upon me, whom he no doubt selected supposing me to be a rich man.
It was not justifiable, but something can be excused to a man finding
himself in such a position."

Robert was filled with indignation as he listened to this aspersion upon
his father's memory. He would not have cared half so much for any insult
to himself.

"Mr. Davis," he said, boldly, "it is enough for you to cheat my mother
out of the money which my father left her, but when you accuse my father
of fraud you go too far. You know better than any one that everything
which he wrote is true."

The superintendent flushed under the boy's honest scorn, and, unable to
defend himself truthfully, he worked himself into a rage.

"What! do you dare insult me in my own office?" he exclaimed, half
rising from his desk, and glaring at our hero. "Out of my sight at once,
or I may be tempted to strike you!"

"Before I leave you, Mr. Davis," said Robert, undauntedly, "I wish you
to tell me finally whether you deny the deposit referred to in my
father's letter?"

"And I tell you, once for all," exclaimed the superintendent, angrily,
"if you don't get out of my office I will kick you out."

"I will leave you now," said our hero, not intimidated; "but you have
not heard the last of me. I will not rest until I see justice done to my
mother."

So saying, he walked deliberately from the office, leaving Mr. Davis in
a state of mind no means comfortable. True, the receipt had doubtless
gone to the bottom of the sea with the ill-fated captain, and, as no one
was cognizant of the transaction, probably no claim could be enforced
against his denial. But if the letter should be shown, as Robert would
doubtless be inclined to do, he was aware that, however the law might
decide, popular opinion would be against him, and his reputation would
be ruined. This was an unpleasant prospect, as the superintendent valued
his character. Besides, the five thousand dollars were gone and not
likely to be recovered. Had they still been in his possession, that
would have been some compensation.

CHAPTER XXI.

A DENIAL.

Robert left the superintendent's office in deep thought. He understood
very well that it would be impossible to enforce his claim without more
satisfactory testimony than his father's letter. If any one had been
cognizant of the transaction between Mr. Davis and his father it would
have helped matters, but no one, so far as he knew, was even aware that
his father had possessed so large a sum as five thousand dollars. Had
Captain Rushton inclosed the receipt, that would have been sufficient,
but it had probably gone to the bottom with him. But, after all, was it
certain that his father was dead? It was not certain, but our hero was
forced to admit that the chances of his father's being alive were
extremely slender.

Finding himself utterly at a loss, he resolved to call upon his firm
friend, Squire Paine, the lawyer. Going to his office, he was fortunate
enough to find him in, and unengaged.

"Good-morning, Robert," said the lawyer, pleasantly.

"Good-morning, sir. You find me a frequent visitor."

"Always welcome," was the pleasant reply. "You know I am your banker,
and it is only natural for you to call upon me."

"Yes, sir," said Robert, smiling; "but it is on different business that
I have come to consult you this morning."

"Go on. I will give you the best advice in my power."

The lawyer listened with surprise to the story Robert had to tell.

"This is certainly a strange tale," he said, after a pause.

"But a true one," said Robert, hastily.

"I do not question that. It affords another illustration of the old
saying that truth is stranger than fiction. That a letter committed to
the deep so many thousand miles away should have finally reached its
destination is very remarkable, I may say Providential."

"Do you think there is any chance of my father being yet alive?"

"There is a bare chance, but I cannot encourage you to place much
reliance upon it."

"If he had been picked up by any vessel I suppose he would have
written."

"You would doubtless have seen him at home before this time in that
case. Still there might be circumstances," added the lawyer, slowly,
"that would prevent his communicating with friends at home. For
instance, his boat might have drifted to some uninhabited island out of
the course of ordinary navigation. I don't say it is at all probable,
but there is such a probability."

"Is there any chance of making Mr. Davis return the money my father
deposited with him?"

"There again there are difficulties. He may demand the return of his
receipt, or he may continue to deny the trust altogether."

"Won't the letter prove anything?"

"It may produce a general conviction that such a deposit was made,
since, admitting the letter to be genuine, no one, considering
especially the character of your father, can readily believe that in the
immediate presence of death he would make any such statement unless
thoroughly reliable. But moral conviction and legal proof are quite
different things. Unless that receipt is produced I don't see that
anything can be done."

"Perhaps my father might have put that in a bottle also at a later
date."

"He might have done so when he became satisfied that there was no chance
of a rescue. But even supposing him to have done it, the chances are
ten to one that it will never find its way to your mother. The reception
of the first letter was almost a miracle."

"I have no doubt you are right, Mr. Paine," said Robert; "but it seems
very hard that my poor father's hard earnings should go to such an
unprincipled man, and my mother be left destitute."

"That is true, Robert, but I am obliged to say that your only hope is in
awakening Mr. Davis to a sense of justice."

"There isn't much chance of that," said Robert, shaking his head.

"If you will leave the matter in my hands, I will call upon him
to-night, and see what I can do."

"I shall feel very glad if you will do so, Squire Paine. I don't want to
leave anything undone."

"Then I will do so. I don't imagine it will do any good, but we can but
try."

Robert left the office, making up his mind to await the report of the
lawyer's visit before moving further.

That evening, the lawyer called at the house of the superintendent. Mrs.
Davis and Halbert were in the room. After a little unimportant
conversation, he said:

"Mr. Davis, may I ask the favor of a few minutes' conversation with you
in private?"

"Certainly," said the superintendent, quite in the dark as to the
business which had called his guest to the house. He led the way into
another room, and both took seats.

"I may as well say to begin with," commenced the lawyer, "that I call in
behalf of the family of the late Captain Rushton."

The superintendent started nervously.

"That boy has lost no time," he muttered to himself.

"I suppose you understand what I have to say?"

"I presume I can guess," said the superintendent, coldly. "The boy came
into my office this morning, and made a most extraordinary claim, which
I treated with contempt. Finding him persistent I ordered him out of my
office. I need not say that no sane man would for a moment put
confidence in such an incredible story or claim."

"I can't quite agree with you there," said the lawyer, quietly. "There
is nothing incredible about the story. It is remarkable, I grant, but
such things have happened before, and will again."

"I suppose you refer to the picking up of the bottle at sea."

"Yes; I fail to see what there is incredible about it. If the
handwriting can be identified as that of the late Captain Rushton, and
Robert says both his mother and himself recognized it, the story becomes
credible and will meet with general belief."

"I thought you were too sensible and practical a man," said the
superintendent, sneering, "to be taken in by so palpable a humbug. Why,
it reads like a romance."

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