The Second String

CHAPTER THIRD

A SCHOOL CHUM

"Going abroad!" exclaimed Caleb Kenley, "what the deuce has put that into your head?"

"I have been a dire failure here; perhaps elsewhere I shall turn out a success."

"You have not been a failure; there are very few better riders in England than yourself. Do not be offended at my question. Are you short of money? Is that the reason?"

"The principal reason, and a very good one. I have always been short of money."

"Why not ride as a professional jockey? You would find plenty of employment and make a heap of money."

"I should not mind it at all for myself," he replied.

"And who else have you to consider?"

"Some one very dear to me; I cannot tell you who it is."

"I think I can guess," replied the trainer smiling. He had noticed how Jack and Winifred were attached to each other.

"Please do not try, but if you know, keep it to yourself. I must make money – do something – and there is no chance for me here."

"You will not be going for a month or two?" asked Caleb anxiously.

"No, not for two or three months."

"I am glad of that; you'll be able to ride Topsy Turvy again at Lewes, and win on him, I hope."

"Is Sir Lester going to run him again in the Southdown Welter?"

"Yes, and of course, you must ride."

"I shall be delighted," replied Jack. "It will probably be my last mount in the old country, for many a long year."

"What country are you bound for?" asked Caleb.

"I do not know at present."

"I have a brother in Sydney, in New South Wales. He has done well there; he trains horses at Randwich, and I am sure if you met him, that is, if you go to Australia, he would make you welcome. He might be able to give you a wrinkle, put you in the way of making a living. He was always a shrewd sharp fellow; I have not heard from him for some time, but I know he is still there," said Caleb.

"If I decide upon Australia, I shall be only too pleased to meet him."

"His name is Joel, and if you decide to go there, I will write to him about you."

"Thanks," replied Jack, "it is always nice to meet a friend in the midst of strangers."

Jack Redland was often at Lewes, and rode gallops on the downs for the trainer. After their conversation he had a spin on Topsy Turvy, who went remarkably well, and he wondered if he was to win another race on him before he left.

From Lewes he went up to London, and called at several shipping offices. As he came out of the Orient Line offices and walked along Fenchurch Street, he met an old schoolfellow named Harry Marton, whom he had lost sight of for some years.

Harry Marton had been his particular chum at school, and when he left he entered the stockbrokers' office of Marton and Shrew, his father being the senior partner. He tried to persuade Jack to join him there, but he declined, giving as his reason that he could not bear to be cooped up in the city. After this their ways lay far apart, and they seldom came across each other.

Jack saw his former comrade looked anything but prosperous; in fact, like himself, he was evidently down on his luck. A hearty greeting passed between them, and Harry said —

"You look as though you were doing well; I am sorry to say I have had a very rough time of it. No doubt you heard of the firm's failure. The poor old governor, it completely broke him up, and he died penniless, and I firmly believe heartbroken. His partner swindled him right and left, and to make matters worse, involved the firm in some very shady transactions. I warned my father, but he had such confidence in Shrew that he took no notice of what I said. It would have been better for him had he done so. We might have saved something from the wreck when the crash came."

"I am awfully sorry to hear it," replied Jack; "but you are mistaken as to my state of prosperity. I assure you I have not a penny to bless myself with, but I have some very good friends."

"Which I am sorry to say I have not," replied Harry. "Curious we should meet here. I wonder if you have been on the same errand as myself?"

"I have been to the Orient office to see about a passage to Sydney."

"And I have been on a similar errand, but not to the same office. I have had the offer of a passage out to Western Australia, to Fremantle. It is not a crack steamer by any means, but I don't mind that. When I arrive there I am certain of employment. You'll laugh when I tell you what it is."

"How strange we should meet here," replied Jack.

"It is, very curious; it must be five or six years since I saw you last."

"Quite that; it is a coincidence we ought not to overlook. How would it do for us to go out together?"

"It would be splendid, but Fremantle is a long way from Sydney, I believe."

"We cannot talk here; let us go into Carter's and have a chat," said Harry.

They entered the quiet, modest dining-rooms, and secured a table in a corner, away from the busy throng of city men, who were hurriedly discussing their luncheons.

"It always amuses me to watch the city man in here," said Jack. "He has not a minute to spare, and his food disappears with lightning-like rapidity. I wonder if it does him any good, or if he has the faintest idea of what he is eating."

"He cannot get much enjoyment out of it; I have tried it myself, and know what it means."

"In your clerking days?" said Jack.

"Yes, we never had much time to spare; it's different now. There is too much time and too little money."

Jack saw his friend was hungry, and ordered a substantial meal, which he was glad he had cash enough to pay for.

"I have not had such a good feed for many a long day," said Harry Marton with a sigh of regret that luncheon was at last over.

"It has been as bad as that?" said Jack.

"Yes, and occasionally I have had to starve for twelve hours. There is no man I have more pity for than the clerk out of work. He has to look respectable, or there is no chance of obtaining a situation; and when he gets work, his pay is miserably small. I assure you, Jack, I have tramped the city until I am sick of the whole thing. Nothing but refusals, even from men I knew when in my father's office. I wonder why parents are so anxious to bring up their children to respectable starvation. I have seen scores of good fellows dining off a piece of bread and a cup of tea, when a square meal would have been a Godsend to them. I think it is false pride in many cases; there's too much of the 'gentlemanly occupation' in this world."

"You speak from experience, I know very little about it," replied Jack, "but I can quite believe all you say. Tell me how you came to think of going to the colonies."

"Four or five years ago a man who hailed from Western Australia walked into our office. His name was Barry Tuxford, and he had been on the goldfields in that colony and made what he called a pile. He was a jovial, free and easy fellow, and he took a fancy to me. I showed him round town, and we had some very good times indeed. He got our firm to do some business for him, which panned out very well. When he returned he told me before he sailed, that if ever I wished to go out to Western Australia, I was to write to him to an address he gave me at Fremantle. I promised to do so, but at that time I never thought there was any chance of making use of him. I lost the address, but I remembered the man, and that the town was Fremantle, so I risked it and wrote to him there. A fortnight ago I received his reply. He wrote that it was lucky Barry Tuxford was well known, or he would never have received the letter. He was sorry to hear of my misfortunes, said he recollected our jaunts around town, and proposed I should join him out there. 'We can do with a few smart fellows like you,' he said, 'and if you have a mate you can bring him with you; so much the better.' He then went on to say if I decided to go to Fremantle, I must take his letter to the owners of the steamer 'Golden Land,' and they would give me a passage out."

"Very good of him," said Jack, "You will probably mend your fortunes in the company of such a man. What are you to do when you arrive there?"

"That is the funny part of the business. He wants me to go with his pearling schooner, and some other boats, to a place I think he calls Shark's Bay. I am to be a sort of supercargo and general hand, I suppose, but what the deuce can he expect me to know about pearls and pearl fishing?" said Harry Marton.

"A man like that will soon teach you your work, and it must be a jolly interesting occupation, although, of course, there will be plenty of roughing it," replied Jack. "I should not mind it in the least."

Harry Marton looked at his friend, noticed his spruce appearance, and smiled.

"I don't think it would suit you, Jack. It's different with me, a case of Hobson's choice. Where Shark's Bay is I have not the faintest idea."

"We'll hunt it up on the map."

"They haven't such a thing as an atlas at Carter's."

"There is no harm in asking," said Jack, and called the waiter.

"Hatlas, sir? No, sir, the gents as come here has no time to look at a hatlas. The only part of the earth they care about lies within a radius of a mile round Carter's. They may have seen a hatlas at school, sir, but, bless you, it would be so much waste paper here."

They laughed, and Harry Marton said —

"I thought as much; anyway, it matters little where Shark's Bay is. I have no doubt I shall eventually be landed, or stranded, there."

"I thought pearl fishing was about worked out in Australia," said Jack.

"It cannot be, or Barry Tuxford would not have a hand in it. He's far too cute to tackle anything that is worked out, or likely to be, while he is in it."

"He asked you to take a friend. Suppose I join you?"

"You!" exclaimed Harry, delighted. "You don't mean it, that would be too much of a good thing. The 'Golden Land' is not the sort of steamer you would care to travel in; there's none of the luxuries of a liner on her. She's a cargo boat."

"We were at the same school and that was good enough for us. Why should the same steamer not be equally suitable? I am looking forward to roughing it, and may as well commence with the 'Golden Land.' At any rate, it is worth risking in order to have your company."

"Of course, if you really mean it, I shall be very pleased, and the passage can easily be fixed up."

"When does she sail?" asked Jack.

"At the end of the month if she has a full cargo, which she is almost sure to have."

Jack thought of Lewes Races and his mount on Topsy Turvy. If the "Golden Land" did not sail until then he would not miss the chance of winning again.

"I am going to ride in a race at Lewes, one of Sir Lester Dyke's horses, and you must come down and see it. There may be a chance of winning a few pounds to help us on our way."

"I have seen your name in the paper," said Harry, "and often envied you. I wish I could ride well. It will be very useful to you in the colonies. I am afraid my funds will not allow of my travelling to Lewes."

"I'll see to that. If we go out to seek our fortunes together we will have one common purse."

Harry Marton shook his head as he replied —

"That will not be fair, for I have very little to put into it."

"Our combined capital will not be burdensome, but such as it is we ought to share it," replied Jack laughing.

"Well, I will leave it to you, only mind, I insist upon a correct account being kept so that I can repay you if I overdraw."

"Agreed," said Jack, smiling. "We will be as accurate as a bank."

"If you have really made up your mind we may as well walk round to the shipping office, and see whether we can go by the 'Golden Land.'"

The Captain of the "Golden Land" chanced to be in the office when they entered, and the manager introduced them. Captain Seagrave was a bluff hearty sailor of the old school, not given to oily words or polished language, but an able skipper, and his employers knew it would be hard to find a better man for their work.

He had made many voyages to Australia and other countries, and risked his life in ships that were anything but seaworthy. He eyed the two young men curiously, and a humorous smile spread over his face. He hardly thought them the class of passenger for a rough and tumble trip to Fremantle in the "Golden Land." At the same time, he saw a prospect, in their company, of the monotony of the voyage being broken. In reply to the manager he said —

"There's d – d little room on board for human beings; the accommodation is limited, and the bunks are not equal to the best shake-downs in a decent hotel. There's a tarnation lot of company in the ship sometimes, which we get rid of in the best way we can. The dining saloon, gents, is not on a par with an Atlantic liner's, but there's ample room for feeding, providing the sea's calm. When she's in motion, the 'Golden Land' lets you know it. If the firm's willing, I'll take you both, and I daresay we shall pass the time pleasantly enough. We shall know each other inside out before we reach Fremantle, I guess."

CHAPTER FOURTH

AN OLD TIME SKIPPER

Jack Redland decided to take a trip to Fremantle in the "Golden Land," and arranged for his passage before leaving the office; he was surprised at the low amount charged.

The manager watched them as they left with Captain Seagrave, and thought:

"You little know what you are in for. I would not make a trip to Australia in the 'Golden Land' for a hundred pounds, how the deuce Seagrave manages to get the old tub out there safely beats me. She'll go down for certain before long. I hope it will not be this trip."

Captain Seagrave was in a jovial frame of mind, and he liked his company. He admired pluck and knew his companions had plenty of it, or they would not have ventured on such a trip without asking a few more questions.

"What sort of a steamer is the 'Golden Land'?" asked Jack.

Job Seagrave smiled as he replied:

"She's not what you'd call a floating palace; every time I sail in her I fancy it will be her last voyage, but she holds well together, and I know how to handle her, although she has as many humours as a thoroughbred."

Jack laughed as he said —

"I judge from that remark you are fond of racing."

"Yes, my lad, I am, and not above winning a trifle, or losing it."

"I ride in races sometimes."

The skipper turned an admiring glance on him.

"You don't look much like a jockey," he replied.

"I am a gentleman rider. If you care to go down to Lewes the week before we sail you will see me win a race, I hope."

"Lewes!" exclaimed Seagrave, "that's funny, bless my soul, it's funny. I was born there, in that glorious town I first saw daylight, or gas-light."

"Well, this beats all," said Harry Marton, "it is a day of surprises."

"A fellow must be born somewhere," said the skipper, in an apologetic tone, at which they both laughed.

"Have you been there lately?" asked Jack.

"Not this trip. I was there about twelve months ago, at the races, and had a look round the old place, but very few people know me now. I remember I backed a horse called Topsy Turvy, because he belonged to Sir Lester Dyke. I knew his father, they are a grand old family."

"I rode the horse," said Jack, quietly.

"Belay, there," shouted Seagrave, as he came to a dead standstill and stared at him, much to the amusement of the passers by. "You rode him, well, of all the – curious things this beats cock fighting."

"And I am going to ride him again at the next meeting," said Jack.

"The shekels of Job Seagrave go on to that horse," said the skipper, "and listen to me, young man, if he wins we'll lay in a nice little stock of dainties for the voyage. The 'Golden Land' is not over well provisioned, my inside feels like a salt mine sometimes before we touch land."

"I am going to Brighton to-night," said Jack. "Will you come with me?"

"You mean it, my son?"

"I do, heartily welcome you will be, and you too, Harry."

Harry Marton declined, he had no intention of draining his friend's slender purse, and, moreover, he had a little affair of his own with a bright eyed girl he wished to attend to.

They parted at London Bridge, Jack and Captain Seagrave going by the Brighton train.

"Glorious country this," said the captain, when they had passed Gatwick and got into the open.

"I am proud of being a Sussex man. I have had some rare fun at Brighton and Shoreham in my young days. It was there I got my first taste of the sea, and I liked it so much I stuck to it, but I've done no good at it. You see I hadn't the chances some of these swell skippers had, but I made the most of what little I knew. I have been through the mill, I can tell you, right through the whole boiling lot, from cabin boy to skipper."

"All the more credit to you," replied Jack.

"That's as it may be, and as how folks think. It's not much to blow about being captain of a dodgasted old coffin like the 'Golden Land,' but it's a living and I like it. On land I feel lost, on board I am as right as a trivet. It strikes me as curious a smart young fellow like you wants to leave this country and go to such a hole as Freemantle. You'll soon be sick of it, take my advice and throw it up."

Jack Redland laughed, he liked his bluff, hearty companion, and told him the reason he was going away.

"That's it, is it?" said Captain Seagrave. "You want to make money and come back and give it your best girl. Mind you, I don't say that is not a laudable desire, but are you sure of the party in petticoats? I have never had much to do with 'em myself, except in a casual way, but what little I know about 'em makes me steer clear of such craft. They're dangerous and you never can tell when they 'bout ship and sail clear away from you. Mind you have her safely in dock before you go, and don't let her come out until you return."

Jack laughed heartily as he replied —

"If she does not wait for my return I must find someone else to share my fortune, if I make one."

The train pulled up with a jerk that threw Captain Seagrave forward.

"Bad steering," he said. "I wish I had the engine driver in my stoke hole, he'd learn better manners down there."

"Tickets, please," said the porter.

"Tell the driver of this train he – "

The porter banged the door to, and left the skipper fuming.

Arriving at Brighton they walked to Jack Redland's lodgings, and after tea sat on the balcony.

"You are well fixed up here," said Seagrave, "nice and comfortable I call it. Rum old place this, I often wonder what sort of a time those old dandies had in the Pavilion a century or more ago."

"Judging from what I have read, they must have been gay and festive," replied Jack. "They drank hard, and made love desperately then; we go about such things in a more decorous manner now."

"That's true, but is it a change for the better? Is secret debauchery an improvement on open profligacy?"

He was rather surprised to hear his companion talk in this strain, and said —

"You do not think the morals of the present generation are any better than they were in those days?"

"Not a bit, you've only to look at the papers to find that out. There is some fairly sultry reading in the Divorce Court cases."

"Granted," replied Jack, "but still I think on the whole we have become better mannered, and more circumspect, since the time of the Georges."

"Maybe, but with all the learning to be had at other people's expense, I don't think we have much to boast about. In my young days we had to learn to work almost before we learned to spell."

"It does not seem to have done you much harm."

"None at all, but I'd have been a tarnation sight more presentable if somebody had taken me in hand and licked me into shape."

"What sort of a place is Fremantle?" asked Jack, changing the subject.

"It's not much like Brighton," replied Captain Seagrave, laughing. "You'll find a vast difference, but there's worse places than Fremantle on the face of the globe. It's an old convict settlement, at the mouth of the Swan river, about a dozen miles from Perth. It's not one of the best of harbours, but I have never met with any mishap there. It has been improved a lot of late years. It will seem a very dull place to you, I am afraid. May I ask what you are going to do when you arrive there. It's not a good place to be stranded in."

"My friend, Harry Marton, is going out at the request of Barry Tuxford – " commenced Jack.

"Barry! well, I'm blest. Barry Tuxford, you'll be all right with him. There's no cleverer man than Barry in Western Australia, he can make money out of anything he touches. What do you think his latest move is?"

"Something out of the common," ventured Jack.

"Rather! He's revived the pearl fishing again, and what's more, he's had his usual luck.

"That is what he wants us for; I say us because he told Harry to take a friend out with him. We are going pearl fishing."

Captain Seagrave laughed.

"Barry will get the pearls and you will do the hard graft, but he will treat you fairly, he's a square man is Barry Tuxford. I reckon you'll go up to Shark's Bay and round that quarter, it is an outlandish place. I fancy life on a station would suit you best; anyway, I'd give it a chance if the pearling does not agree with you. They'll be glad to have a 'jackaroo' like you, who can ride, on any sheep station."

"What is a jackaroo?" said Jack.

"A new chum who wants to learn sheep farming; some of them pay a premium, but there is no occasion for that. You can work for nothing and learn a lot in a very short time. It's a rum life, but I have met many men who would not leave it for anything else. I suppose the great open country is to them like the sea to me, they feel lost without it."

"I shall make my way to Sydney if I cannot do anything in Western Australia. Caleb Kenley, who trains for Sir Lester Dyke, has a brother there, who is doing very well in the same line, and he says he will be very glad to see me."

"I'm sure he will, you are one of the right sort, Mr. Redland, and if you'll take an old salt's tip you'll quit pearl shelling and stick to horses."

Jack laughed as he replied —

"The one occupation is almost as risky as the other."

"But you are more likely to go under at pearling than at racing."

"There is no harm in trying the former. I can easily leave it if I wish."

"When we reach Fremantle I'll just put in a word for you both with Barry Tuxford. He's got a finger in a good many things, and I should not wonder if he dabbles in racing, there's a lot more of it than there used to be in Western Australia."

They went on to the parade and Captain Seagrave pointed out the many alterations that had been made at Brighton since he was a boy. "All these fine houses at Hove have been put up since my time, and the sea had a lot more of its own way than it has now," he said. They went on to the old pier and listened to the band, and Captain Seagrave found his companion so much to his liking that he forgot all about the time. It suddenly occurred to him that he must make a move if he wished to be back in London that night.