Tommy! said the sailor in a remonstrative tone, did I ever deceive you?
Never, replied the boy fervently; leastwise not since we come acquaint arf an hour back.
Look here, said Sam Blake, baring his brawny left arm to the elbow and displaying sundry deep scars which once must have been painful wounds. An look at this, he added, opening his shirt-front and exposing a mighty chest that was seamed with similar scars in all directions. Thats what the pirates did to me an my matestorturin of us afore killin us.
Oh, I say! exclaimed the urchin, in a tone in which sympathy was mingled with admiration; tell us all about it, Sam.
Not now, my lad; business firstpleasure arterwards.
I prefers pleasure first an business arter, Sam. Owever, ave it yer own way.
Well, you see, continued the sailor, turning down his, wen I went to sea that time, I left a wife an a babby behind me; but soon arter I got out to China I got a letter tellin me that my Susan was dead, and that the babby had bin took charge of by a old nurse in the family where Susan had been a housemaid. You may be sure my heart was well-nigh broke by the news, but I comforted myself wi the thought o gittin home again an takin care o the dear babbya gal, it was, called Susan arter its mother. It was at that time I was took by the pirates in the Malay Seasnow fifteen long years gone by.
Wat! an you aint bin ome or seed yer babby for fifteen years? exclaimed Tommy Splint.
Not for fifteen long year, replied his friend. You see, Tommy, the pirates made a slave o me, an took me up country into the interior of one o their biggest islands, where I hadnt a chance of escapin. But I did manage to escape at last, through Gods blessin, an got to Hong-Kong in a small coaster; found a shipthe Seacow-about startin for England short-handed, an got a berth on board of her. On the voyage the second mate was washed overboard in a gale, so, as I was a handy chap, the capen he promoted me, an now Im huntin about for my dear little one all over London. But its a big place is London.
Yes; an I suspect that youll find your little un raither a big un too by this time.
No doubt, returned the seaman with an absent air; then, looking with sudden earnestness into his little companions face, he added, Well, Tommy Splint, as I said just now, Ive cruised about far an near after this old woman as took charge o my babby without overhaulin of her, for she seems to have changed her quarters pretty often; but I keep up my hopes, for I do feel as if Id run her down at lasther name was Lizbeth Morley
Oho! exclaimed Tommy Splint with a look of sharp intelligence; so you think that chimleypot Liz may be your Lizbeth and our Susy your babby!
Im more than half inclined to think that, my boy, returned the sailor, growing more excited.
Is the old womans name Morley?
Dun know. Never heard nobody call her nothin but Liz.
And how about Susan?
Thats the babby? said the boy with a grin.
Yesyes, said Sam anxiously.
Well, that babbys about five fut four now, without er boots. You see uman creeturs are apt to grow considerable in fifteen yearsaint they?
But is her name Blake? demanded the seaman. Not as I knows of. Susys wot we all calls erso chimley-pot Liz calls er, an so she calls erself, an there aint another Susy like her for five miles round. But come up, Sam, an Ill introduce eetheyre both overead.
So saying the lively urchin grasped his new friend by the hand and led him by a rickety staircase to the rookeries above.
Chapter Two.
Flowers in the Desert
Beauty and ugliness form a contrast which is presented to us every day of our lives, though, perhaps, we may not be much impressed by the fact. And this contrast is presented in ever-varying aspects.
We do not, however, draw the readers attention to one of the striking aspects of the contrastsuch as is presented by the hippopotamus and the gazelle, or the pug with the bashed nose and the Italian greyhound. It is to one of the more delicate phases that we would pointto that phase of the contrast wherein the fight between the two qualities is seen progressing towards victory, and ugliness is not only overborne but overwhelmed by beauty.
For this purpose we convey the reader to a scene of beauty that might compare favourably with any of the most romantic spots on this fair earthon the Riviera, or among the Brazilian wilds, or, for that matter, in fairyland itself.
It is a gardena remarkably small garden to be sure, but one that is arranged with a degree of taste and a display of fancy that betokens the gardener a genius. Among roses and mignonette, heliotrope, clematis and wallflower, chrysanthemums, verbenas and sweet-peas are intertwined, on rustic trellis-work, the rich green leaves of the ivy and the graceful Virginia creeper in such a manner that the surroundings of the miniature garden are completely hidden from view, and nothing but the bright blue sky is visible, save where one little opening in the foliage reveals the prospect of a grand glittering river, where leviathans of the deep and small fry of the shallows, of every shape and size, disport themselves in the blaze of a summer sun.
Beauty meets the eye wherever turned, but, let the head of the observer be extended ever so little beyond the charmed circle of that garden, and nearly all around is ugliness supreme! For this is a garden on the roof of an old house; the grand river is the Thames, alive with the shipping of its world-wide commerce, and all around lies that interminable forest of rookery chimneys, where wild ungainly forms tell of the insane and vain efforts of man to cope with smoke; where wild beastsin the form of catshold their nightly revels, imitating the yells of agonised infants, filling the dreams of sleepers with ideas of internal thunder or combustion, and driving the sleepless mad!
Susyour Susyis the cause of this miracle of beauty in the midst of misery; this glowing gem in a setting of ugliness. It is her modest little head that has bent over the boxes of earth, which constitute her landed property; her pretty little fingers which have trained the stems and watered the roots and cherished the flowers until the barren house-top has been made to blossom like the rose. And love, as usual, has done it alllove to that very ugly old woman, chimney-pot Liz, who sits on the rustic chair in the midst of the garden enjoying it all.
For Liz has been a mother to that motherless bairn from her earliest years. She has guarded, fed, and clothed her from infancy; taught her from Gods Book the old, old story of redeeming love, and led her to the feet of Jesus. It would be strange indeed if Susy did not love the ugly old woman, until at last she came to regard the wrinkles as veritable lines of beauty; the nut-cracker nose and chin as emblems of persistent goodness; the solitary wobbling tooth as a sign of unconquerable courage; and the dark eyeswell, it required no effort of imagination to change the character of the old womans eyes, for they had always been good, kindly, expressive eyes, and were at that date as bright and lively as when she was sweet sixteen.
But chimney-pot Liz was poordesperately poor, else she had not been there, for if heaven was around and within her, assuredly something very like pandemonium was underneath her, and it not unfrequently appeared as if the evil spirits below were surging to and fro in a fierce endeavour to burst up the whole place, and hurl the old woman with her garden into the river.