With Wolfe in Canada: The Winning of a Continent by G. A. Henty (good books for 7th graders .txt) 📗

The squire was silent for a minute or two. He had a very sincere friendship and liking for his companion, a thorough confidence in his judgment and principles. He knew his self-sacrificing nature, and that he was only speaking from his love for his grandchild.

"Do not let us talk about it now, old friend," he said quietly. "You and I put, before all other things, Aggie's happiness. Disagreement between us there can be none on the subject. Give me tonight to think over what you have said, and we will talk about it again tomorrow."

After breakfast next morning, the squire asked his friend to go with him into his study.

"I have been thinking this matter over," he said, "very seriously, and, upon reflection, I agree with you that it is undesirable that Aggie should see much of Richard, until she is of an age to form a fair opinion for herself, and to compare him with other young men. I agree with you, also, that we have not yet sufficient proofs that he is completely changed. I hope that he is. You think he is not. At any rate, he must have a longer trial, and until it is proved to your satisfaction, as well as mine, that he is in every way a desirable husband for Aggie, the less they see of each other, the better. I therefore propose to write at once to my friend Admiral Hewson, to ask him to use his influence, at the admiralty, to get the young fellow appointed to a ship. Does that meet your approval, my friend?"

"Quite so," the other said cordially. "Nothing could be better. In the meantime, as you say, should Richard turn out well, and the young people take a liking for each other, no match could be more satisfactory. What I want is that she should take no girlish fancy for him, at present."

"So be it, then," the squire said. "I think, you know, that we are a couple of old fools, to be troubling ourselves about Aggie's future, at present. Still, in a matter which concerns us both so nearly, we cannot be too careful. If we had a woman with us, we could safely leave the matter in her hands; as it is, we must blunder on, as best we may."

And so it was settled, and a week later, Richard Horton received an official letter from the admiralty, ordering him to proceed at once to Portsmouth to join the Thetis, to which he was appointed as fourth lieutenant. The order gave Richard extreme satisfaction. He was beginning to find his life desperately dull, and he was heartily sick of playing the attentive nephew. He was well content with the progress he had made; nothing had gone wrong since he returned, his uncle had clearly taken him back into his favour, and he had no doubt that Aggie quite appreciated the pains he had bestowed to gain her liking.

He detested the squire's companion, for he felt that the latter disliked and distrusted him, and that his projects would meet with a warm opposition on his part. Still, with the squire and Aggie herself on his side, he did not fear the result. As to James Walsham, whom he had come home prepared to regard as a possible rival, from his early intimacy with the child, and the fact that his mother was her governess, he now regarded him with contempt, mingled with a revengeful determination to pay off the old score, should a chance ever present itself.

He therefore started next day in high spirits, assuming, however, a great reluctance to tear himself away. A few days later a letter came from him, saying that he hoped that he should be able to come back, sometimes, for a day or two, as the Thetis was at present to be attached to the Channel squadron, and it was not expected that she would, for some time, proceed on foreign service.

Early in October, James Walsham was to go up to London, to commence his medical course. A week before he was to start, Mr. Wilks went down in the morning, intending to insist on his returning with him to the Hall. As he went down towards Sidmouth, the old soldier noticed how strongly the wind was blowing, the trees were swaying and thrashing in the wind, the clouds were flying past overhead. Everything portended a severe gale.

Finding, at Mrs. Walsham's, that James was down on the beach, he continued his course until he joined him there. James was standing with a group of fishermen, who were looking seaward. Now that he was exposed to the full force of the wind, Mr. Wilks felt that, not only was it going to blow a gale, but that it was blowing one already. The heavy clouds on the horizon seemed to lie upon the water, the waves were breaking with great force upon the beach, and the fishermen had hauled their boats up across the road.

"It's blowing hard, Jim," he said, laying his hand on the young fellow's shoulder.

"It is blowing hard, and it will blow a great deal harder before nightfall. The fishermen all think it is going to be an exceptional gale. It is blowing dead on shore. It will be bad work for any ships that happen to be coming up Channel today. Eight or ten of our boats are out. We thought we had made out three of them just before you came, but the cloud closed down on them. The fishermen are just going to get lifelines ready. I am afraid we are going to have a terrible night of it."

"I came down to ask you if you will come up to lunch, Jim, but I suppose you will not be able to tear yourself away from here."

"I shouldn't like to leave now, indeed. There is no saying what may happen. Besides, so many of the fishermen are away, that I may be useful here if a vessel comes ashore, and there may be half a dozen before the morning. Every hand will be wanted to give assistance."

"But you could not get a boat out through those breakers, could you, Jim?"

"Yes," Jim replied, "we might get one of the big boats through it now; but it's going to be worse, presently. When I went out, last year, with a boat to the brig which was driven ashore, it was worse than this.

"I shall be very glad to come up tomorrow, if you will let me. I hear that fellow Horton went away last week."

"Yes, he went away, Jim. But why his being there should have kept you from going up is beyond me."

"I don't like the fellow, Mr. Wilks. He may mean very well, but I don't like him. I have been in one row about him with the squire, and I don't want another; but I am quite sure, if I had gone up much while he was there, it would have ended in my trying to punch his head again."

"In that case, perhaps," the old soldier said, smiling, "you were wise to stay away, Jim. I don't like the lad myself. Still, punching his head would not have been a desirable thing."

"I am glad you don't like him," James said, warmly. "Somehow I made up my mind that you were all sure to like him, and I don't suppose the idea made me like him any the better. He was just the free-and-easy sort of fellow to get along well, and I was quite sure that Aggie would not want me, when she had him to go about with her. I saw him drive through in the pony carriage with her, two or three times, and it was easy to see how thoroughly she was enjoying herself."

"Well, it was your own fault, my boy. If you choose to sulk down here, and never to go up to the Hall, you can't blame Aggie for letting herself be amused by someone else."

"Oh! I don't blame her," James said hastily. "Of course, it is all right that she should enjoy herself with her cousin. Only somehow, you know, after being great friends with anyone, one doesn't like to see someone else stepping into your place."

"But as I have told you, over and over again, during the last three years, Jim, you have willfully stepped out of your place. You know how often I have asked you to come up, and how seldom you have come. You have never shown Aggie that you have any wish to continue on the footing of friendship, on which you stood towards each other when she was at your mother's, and as you have chosen to throw her over, I don't see why she shouldn't take to anyone else who takes pains to make himself pleasant to her."

"Oh! I don't blame her a bit, Mr. Wilks. How could you think such a thing! I was very fond of little Aggie when she was at my mother's; but of course, I was not ass enough to suppose that she was going trotting about the country with me, when she once went up to the Hall as the squire's granddaughter. Of course, the whole thing was changed.

"Ah! Here comes the rain."

As he spoke, a sudden splash of rain struck them. It might have been noticed coming across the water in a white line. With it came a gust of wind, to which that which had already been blowing was a trifle. There was no more talking, for nothing less than a shout could have been heard above the roaring of the wind. It was scarcely possible to stand against the fury of the squall, and they were driven across the road, and took shelter at the corner of some houses, where the fishermen had already retired.

The squall lasted but a few minutes, but was soon succeeded by another, almost equally furious, and this seemed to increase in strength, until the wind was blowing a perfect hurricane; but the fishermen now struggled across the road again, for, between the rain squalls, a glimpse had been caught of two of the fishing boats, and these were now approaching the shore. A mere rag of sail was set on each, and yet they tore over the waves at tremendous speed.

One was some two hundred yards ahead of the other, and by the course they were making, they would come ashore nearly at the same spot. The news that two boats were in sight spread rapidly, and many of the fishermen's wives, with shawls over their heads, ran down and stood peering out from behind shelter, for it was well-nigh impossible to stand exposed to the fury of the gale.

An old fisherman stood, with a coil of rope in his hand, close to the water's edge. Several of the others stood close to him, and four of them had hold of the other end of the rope. When the boat was within fifty yards of shore, the sail was lowered; but she still drove straight on before the wind, with scarce an abatement in her speed. A man stood in her bow, also with a coil of rope in his hand, and, as he approached, threw it far ahead. The fisherman rushed waist deep into the water and caught the end of it, which in a moment was knotted to the one in his hand.

"Run along with her," he shouted.

For a moment, the boat towered on the top of a wave, which raced in towards the shore. The next, as it came, took her stern, and she was in the act of swinging round, when the strain of the rope came upon her, and brought her straight again. Higher and higher the wave rose, and then crashed down, and the boat shot forward, like an arrow, in the foam. The fishermen rushed forward and caught it, those on board leapt out waist-deep; all were taken off their feet by the backward rush, but they clung to the sides of the boat, while the men at the head rope, with their heels dug deeply into the sand, withstood the strain, and kept her from being swept out again.

A few seconds, and the boat was left dry, and the next wave carried it high up on the beach, amid a loud cheer from the fishermen and lookers on; but there was no time to waste, for the next boat was close at hand. Again, the rope was thrown to the shore, but this time the strain came a moment too late, the following wave turned the boat round, the next struck it broadside and rolled it, over and over, towards the shore. The fishermen, in an instant, joined hands, and rushing down into the water, strove to grasp the men.

Several times, those in front were knocked down and rolled up on the beach, but