The Adventures of Tom Hanson: or, Brave Endeavours achieve success

Preface

. " Learn to labour and to wait" So Longfellow has written in his beautiful little poem "The Psalm of Life." But how difficult it is for young people to appreciate this ! They understand, it may be, what labour is, but the ivaiting — ah ! this it is which chafes their eager, restless hearts. They do not see why we should labour for aught beyond the Present. The Future is hazy, misty, dim ; and their laughing eyes neither can nor will penetrate it. Ask them to buckle on their armour for the battle of life or prepare for future years, and instantly their interest flags, their ears are stopped As for the Past, it is soon forgotten ; 'tis but a bubble in the water, a feather in the wind, a footprint on the shore, which the next tide will efface ! The Present, the active, stirring Present, is the only time for them.

In this they can be real enough, and earliest enough ; but tell them " Life is real, Life is earnest," — that they should make the best of their fresh and vigorous in tellects to fit them for the coming struggle, — that the Preface. III success of manhood will greatly depend upon the use they make of the golden opportunities of youth, — that life, in short, has higher nobler ends than the gratification of present enjoyments— and you speak a strange language, you are dull, and the merry laugh loses its ring, the sparkling eye its lustre. The prospect is too remote; you tire and depress them even whilst their impatient muscles are ready to burst with excess of spontaneous activity. But tell them stories of wild adventure, or tales of thrilling heroism, and you become engag ing, their ears will quicken, and their eyes resume their wonted fires.

With themes like these you fascinate their attention ; for they appeal to their active faculties, and depict the Present in its most vivid, dazzling colours. And this yearning for scenes of stirring interest is but natural, and, if rightly directed, may be turned to great advantage. Alas ! it is but too clearly understood by those whose aims are selfish and mercenary, and whose motives are certainly not the elevation of youthful tastes Or the improve ment of the mind. And so it comes to pass that our homes and schools are too often invaded by a pernicious literature which inflames the blood, blunts the feelings, and holds up to admiration deeds of dishonesty, cruelty, and reckless daring. It is no wonder, therefore, that such debasing influences, exerted at a time when the emotions are most susceptible and retentive of outward impress sions, should seduce the young and inexperienced Preface.

IV from the better path, and incite them, perchance, to roving, callous, or dishonest lives. But there seems to be no reason why stories in which these blemishes have been carefully excluded should not be equally exciting and amusing. Nay, experience has shown that they are decidedly more popular even with the young — proving distinctly enough that they are not delighted with examples of vice or immorality in themselves, but rather with instances of bravery, of energy, and earnestness of purpose. These, indeed, are virtues which strike a sympathetic chord and secure their approbation. By providing abundance of incident, therefore, it seems possible, not only to afford a fund of enter tainment and pleasure, but also to interweave much that is useful, instructive, and possibly of value in after life.

In this way, the habits and customs of foreign nations may be profitably introduced, and descriptions of distant towns and countries pre sented in an attractive guise. It was with the hope of providing healthy and improving reading of this sort that the following narrative was composed. In it an attempt has been made to exalt whatever is brave, noble, or generous — with what success the reader will best judge for himself. That hydra-headed monster Cruelty, against which our boys especially have need of frequent warning, has been introduced more than once, but only that its cowardly nature might meet with the reprehension it so richly deserves. Preface. V The dangers of foreign travel, it is hoped, are neither undervalued nor exaggerated ; and every care has been taken to secure as much accuracy of detail as the claims of a work of fiction will permit.

To sum up, therefore, the aim of this little his tory, is to incite to honesty, kindness, generosity, and bravery of character ; and though the road to success is sorely beset with thorns and briars, repeated disappointments and heart-sickening trials — a truth which has received abundant illustration in "The Adventures of Tom Hanson" — yet the author trusts his youthful readers will observe that even such obstacles may be overcome, and that brave endeavours honestly and perseveringly carried out, will never fail to win them golden treasures. Torquay, Nov. 10, 1876. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. THE HOME OF MY EARLY DAYS . . .1 II. WRESTLING AND ITS EVIL CONSEQUENCES . . 9 III. SCHOOL LIFE — PANCAKE TUESDAY . . .17 IV. PRIZE-GIVING AND WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVITIES . 25 V. AN EXCURSION TO THE MOORS — A PERILOUS POSITION. 33 VI.

RETURN HOME — HAPS AND MISHAPS AT TINTERLEY GARDENS— FIREWORKS . . . .41 VII. A SEVERE WINTER — DANGERS OF THE ICE . . 50 VIII. HEARTRENDING SCENE — EASTER REVELS . . 59 IX. HISTORY OF THE BLACK KNIGHT . . .68 X. DEATH OF MRS. ANDERSON — VISIT TO A COAL MINE . 75 XI. ADVENTURES BELOW GROUND — RIOTS AT GONFIELD . 84 XII. A DREADFUL EXPLOSION AND ITS VICTIMS — TRUE HEROISM . . . . .91 XIII. HOME SORROWS, AND FIRST LOVE . . .99 XIV. DESPONDING THOUGHTS — YEARNING FOR AUSTRALIA . 106 XV. LIVERPOOL — MEETING WITH CAPTAIN SEAWARD . 114 XVI. FAREWELL TO LOVE . . . .122 XVII. FAREWELL TO HOME — GOOD-BYE, ENGLAND ! . . 130 XVIII. GIBRALTAR, AND THE VOYAGE TO CAPE COAST . 140 XIX. LIFE AT CAPE COAST CASTLE . . . 146 XX. DANGEROUS ADVENTURES WITH SAVAGES . .154 XXI. SUMATRA AND JAVA . . . .162 XXII. A CRUEL DEED — ARRIVAL AT SYDNEY . . 168 XXIII.

NEWS FROM HOME — JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY . 174 XXIV. INTERIOR OF AUSTRALIA — LIFE AMONGST THE SQUAT- TERS . . . . . .181 XXV. NATIVES OF AUSTRALIA AND THEIR WHITE MASTERS — HUNTING THE OPOSSUM .... 194 XXVI. DISHONEST PARTNERS — PAINFUL WANDERINGS— DESPAIR 208 XXVII. THE DAWN OF HOPE — SUCCESS AT LAST . .218 XXVIII. " HOME, SWEET, SWEET HOME ! " . . . LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. No. To FACK PAGE I. A PERILOUS POSITION . . . . .38 II. ACCIDENT ON THE LAKE AT TINTERLEY GARDENS, . . 47 III, TOM HARWARD AND HIS BROTHER HUBERT FALLING INTO THE ICE . . . . . . .56 IV. PARADING THE BLACK KNIGHT . . . .67 V. RIOTS AT GONFIELD . . . -. .88 VI. A DREADFUL EXPLOSION AND ITS VICTIMS . . .92 VII. MEETING WITH MISS HARWARD AT THE GRAVE . . 101 VIII. MEETING WITH CAPTAIN SEAWARD .... 118 IX. ADVENTURE WITH A TIGER ..... 160 X. A CRUEL DEED . . . . , . 169 XI. OUR PARTNERS IN SHEEP-FARMING . . . 187 XII. HUNTING THE OPOSSUM ..... THE ADVENTUKES OF TOM HANSON. -^-owo-«-

Chapter I. The Home Of My Early Days

'Tis sweet at times to turn one's thoughts To childhood's years, and feel again The hopes and joys of youth ; 'Tis sweet, surpassing sweet, to let The memory wander back to days Of Innocence and Truth. I have often thought that a few passages from the history of a struggling and eventful life might, perhaps, prove instructive and entertaining to some of my young friends; and as increasing years have brought more leisure with them, I am able to sit down in this sweet country home, and recall at my ease the chequered memories of the Past. Not very far from the city of Manchester there was, many years ago, a poor village which has now become quite a large town. It consisted of one long straggling street, with here and thore a small by-street. The houses were wholly built of brick, hastily thrown together, and giving by no means an air of comfort or convenience.

Opening the street door of one of these, you entered at once into the chief room of the house. It served at the same time for dining-room, sitting room, and kitchen, for a family of perhaps six or eight persons. The floor of this room was covered with large flat stones, called flags, — -cold and cheerless enough, you may imagine, especially during the long, severe winter, common in that part of England. A few chair3, a roughly-used deal table, a cup board, an old sofa, and a gaudy array of earthen ware " ornaments " on the mantelpiece, formed the chief items of furniture. A small room, opening out of the one just described, used for coals, rubbish, etc., completed the ground-floor of the house. The bedrooms corresponded with the rooms below; but the furniture was even of a poorer description.

Many a bedroom have I seen in our village with no furniture at all ; a bundle of bed clothes, in one corner, being all the provision made for the night's repose. Such was the usual appearance of a collier's home at the time of which I speak. Here and there, but very, very seldom, you would meet with a house, looking much the same from the outside, but kept beautifully clean within, fairly supplied with bright furniture, and looking as comfortable as you could desire. The Home of my Early Days. 3 And the reason of this great difference was not hard to find. The demon of drink was the curse of the village. Although he earned good wages, the collier usually spent his spare time at the public-house, week-day and Sunday alike, where he would sit for hours, cursing and wrangling with others like himself, and reel home at last maddened with drink and more brutal than ever.

General holidays, such as Christmas Day, Good Friday, and the " "Wakes," were looked forward to with great eagerness, not for the opportunity they gave of healthy enjoyment with their families, but for some great match of quoits or wrestling which was announced to take place at an inn in the neighbourhood. The streets, on these occasions, were scenes of drunkenness, fighting, and betting; and so the most sacred days of the year were days of greatest wickedness and folly. In a few cases, as I have said, a collier would bravely and stoutly resist these debasing influences. Surrounded, as he was on all sides, with fighters, wrestlers, and drunkards, it needed much courage and patience to live down the taunts and jeers of his fellow -workmen. Many an honest, kind-hearted man, in spite of his better nature, was sucked into the whirlpool of sin, dragging wife and family with him, because he lacked that moral courage and trust in God which alone could keep him pure amidst so much that was evil.

It was in this village of Gonfield that I was born some forty years ago. My father was a collier, but sober, honest, and fond of his home. It has always been matter of great pride to me that my father was unlike so many around him. I honour and love his memory more and more on this account, know ing, as I do, how many struggles it must have cost him to resist the daily temptations with which he was beset. Looking back into the Past, I can see him even now, returning from the mine, his bright eyes gleaming out of his coal-black face, as my brother and I run out to meet him. My mother, too, knows his footsteps, and hastens to open the door for him ; and, with a loving kiss and cheerful countenance, welcomes him home. I can see his evening meal steaming on the hob, his slippers warming at the blazing fire, the clean white cloth on the table ; and I know how refreshing all this brightness is to him who has spent the whole day in the gloomy coal-mine.

Even his black face and hands have their charm ; for my brother and I are quite old enough to know that they betoken hard and patient toil — toil cheer fully endured that we all may be made comfortable and happy. And now the meal is over ; my father settles in his chair reading his " paper," or his book from the Sunday School Library (for he is a teacher in the Sunday School, and a great favourite with Mr. Benson, the clergyman). The Home of my Early Days. 5 My mother and sister Nellie go silently about their household duties, careful not to disturb " father," and Walter and I sit, one on each side of the hearth, poring over our lessons for the morning school. And so the evening passes peacefully away. My father's earnings, though not more than that of other colliers at this time, were sufficient to keep Walter and myself regularly as " day-boys " at the village school.

Nor was there any need for my mother to work at the cotton factory, as so many mothers had, whose husbands spent their evenings in the way I have told you. Many of my school-fellows worked as "half timers " at the mill ; that is to say, they would work in the mornings and come to school in the after noons, or work in the afternoons and come to school in the mornings. You will think that such boys had little chance in their studies, with boys whose parents could afford to send them to school the whole day. But you are mistaken. Half-timers could quite hold their own ; and some of them were amongst the sharpest in the school. These boys were usually half-timers at nine years of age, and continued as such till they reached the age of thirteen or fourteen, when they left school and worked all day at the mill, and were called " full timers."

I suppose I must have been about ten years old when I first knew Harry Anderson, one of these half-timers. I don't know how I came to like him so much, except it was that I was taken by his thoughtful and earnest countenance, and his generous nature. Perhaps I was also a little touched, at first, by his pinched face and his home troubles. I certainly felt great pity for him ; and as I knew him more, I came to love him. His father was a collier, but a drunkard, who neg lected his work for whole days at a time. His mother was a " weaver " at the mill, and had to work from six o'clock in the morning to six in the evening to earn a scanty support for her family. I have often listened to Harry's sad tale of suffer ing and trial ; and even then, in my evening prayers, I could thank God from my heart that He had given me a sober and loving father and a happy home.

During the long winter, when the ground was thickly covered with snow, Harry and his mother, both so thinly clad, had to make their way every morning at half -past five to their daily toil. It was a lesson of patient endurance which I have never forgotten, and has cheered me often when otherwise my heart would have failed. Weary and worn with her day's work, would this poor woman return home at night, and find a drunken husband, perchance lying on the floor, ready to greet her — not with a loving kiss, but with hard words and sometimes harder blows. Anderson, her husband, had the reputation of being the best wrestler in the neighbourhood — a reputation which his wife bitterly rued, as it had The Home of my Early Days. 7 lured him on from bad to worse, till now he had also the reputation of being the greatest drunkard in Gonfield.

But it is impossible even to be a good wrestler when drink gets the mastery. And so Anderson's hand became more unsteady and his eye lost its lustre. His wife saw his failing strength, and sought to wean him from the brutalizing sport. But his mind was too weak to resist the tempting baits held out by his " supporters," as they were called.' Moreover, a long series of successes in the ring had blinded him to the steady but sure inroads which drink and sin were making in his health. In his sober moments, Harry's pinched face, and the deep lines of sorrow already traced on his wife's brow, would remind him of the ruin he was working in the family ; but, before long, these better thoughts were drowned in the shouts of revelry, and we could plainly see that he was rushing headlong to destruc tion.

A check in his career, however, at this time, took place ; and I will tell you how it happened. The " Wakes " (a sort of " fair "), the great annual festival of our village, was held in September, and lasted three days. For weeks before the time, the walls were filled with notices of the great wrestling match' which was to take place in the grounds of the " Red Lion " on the first day of the Wakes ; for Bill Anderson was to contend with the famous Tom Sloper of Manchester. The villagers worked themselves up into a high pitch of excitement. Never before had such a great match taken place, and Anderson was the hero of the hour. His former successes had made him the admiration and pride of his " supporters ; " and as this admiration usually took the form of " treating," he drank more deeply than ever. Wrestling and its Evils. 9

Chapter II. Wrestling And Its Evil Associations

A SCHOOL-BOY FIGHT. '' Oh that men should put an enemy in Their mouths, to steal away their brains ! that we Should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, Transform ourselves to beasts." Shakespeare. It was just about a week before the Wakes that I noticed something unusually painful in Harry's face at school. He had evidently been crying bitterly. "Harry," said I softly to him after school, "what has happened ? You look so ill and sad to-day ? " He seemed at first unwilling to tell me; but somehow his generous and kindly nature came uppermost, as it always did, and he said at last, in almost passionate tones, — " Father has been drinking all yesterday and to-day, and mother says she is sure some dreadful trouble is about to happen. She asked him this morning to give up the match before it was too late, but he only flew into a rage and treated her cruelly.

Oh, Tom ! it is so hard to see poor mother so un kindly used, and by my father, too ! Oh ! what shall I do ? It will kill mother, and it makes me so miserable ! " At first I could not speak, but I took his thin hand in mine, and in my poor little way, I tried to say some words of comfort; but I could see that his trouble was too deep for my comfort. And yet he seemed to like me near him, and feel my hand in his. We did not know then, and we were too young to understand, what earnest pleading prayers his poor mother was offering up night and day for the man she still loved, though he was daily trampling her love under foot. An unseen Hand was surely at work ; for such earnest prayers were never yet offered in vain. We said no more on the subject that day, nor on the following days, though I" could plainly see that the same painful expression had not left his face.

At length the long-looked-for day arrived. The streets were filled with roughs from all] the neigh bouring towns and villages' The famous Tom Sloper of Manchester was accompanied by a host of ill-looking and noisy fellows, and bets and oaths were freely exchanged. Flags were flying at the " Red Lion," and all was uproar and excitement. The wrestling began ; and, for a time, it seemed as if the unnatural fire which burned in Anderson's. eye would gain the victory. But it was a feverish and unhealthy glow, and contrasted unfavourably with the cold, grey eye of his adversary. Still, at first, the cries of " Bravo, Anderson ! " Wrestling and its Evils. 11 were uppermost ; and the cheers and jeers of the lookers-on made the men more and more desperate. But, at length, the effects of drink and an ill-spent life began to tell in the strife ; and a tremendous shout of the Manchester men told us that all was over.

Anderson had been thrown heavily, and it was feared he had received serious injuries thereby. The news quickly spread; and Mrs. Anderson's piercing scream shot into my heart hke an arrow, for now I felt that all her forebodings had come true. Poor Harry ! my heart bled for him that day, as his father's body lay on the ground, a helpless mass ! They carried him away, and his " supporters " instead of sympathy only gave him curses for his ill-luck. It was the old story — the friends of his successful days were the first to desert and abuse him. He was taken home, a sobered and a wiser man. As we watched by his bedside, we could see a change coming over his bruised features. The sottish, unfeeling look was toned down to a softer expression ; and some faint glow of affection seemed now to answer the devoted attentions of his wife and child.

But when he thought of the scoffs and desertions of his former companions, we could see his features harden into a firm resolve. And it was on that sick bed, racked with pain, he told us afterwards, that he made a solemn promise to God to be a better husband and father in the years to come — a promise solemnly made and solemnly kept. Some few days afterwards, when his troubled thoughts of the past had had time to settle in the quiet of his chamber, he took his wife's hand ten derly in his own, and said, — " Mary, I have been a bad husband to thee, and have given thee much bitter pain. But I think I have learnt a lesson this time which I shall never forget. I never thought they would leave and neglect me as they have done; but, God helping me, they shall not have the chance again." As he said this he pressed his wife's hand, sank back on his pillow, and was soon asleep — a sleep so calm and peaceful that it was easy to see how his mind had been relieved by what he had said.

It was wonderful, too, how quickly he recovered, and with what eager earnestness he tried to make up for the past. No more days were wasted at the " Red Lion ; " but, gradually and quietly dropping the acquaintance of his old companions, he became a changed man, infusing a glow of warmth and happiness into that household which he had so long made cheerless and cold. Harry now became a day-boy at the school ; and so we were more together. The change in his home soon brought out his natural brightness and high spirits; and even that pinched expression of face, which had touched me so much at first, gradually wore off ; and before many months had gone A Schoolboy Fight. 13 by, you could not have seen a more sprightly lad in the whole of Gonfield. Still, it was a very trying time for him. There were many boys in the school base enough to taunt him with his father's cowardice, as they called it, in giving up the ring.

Two of his greatest tormentors were Jem Evans and Joe Wild, who indeed never lost an oppor tunity of teasing him, and the more so as they saw his high and sensitive spirit chafe under their taunts. Moreover, he steadily refused, though often tempted, to join in their unlawful excursions after school ; and this gave them* another reason for ill-using him. This ill-usage had been increasing now for some time; and I felt, somehow, that it could not continue much longer without some check. The check was nearer than I thought, and rather different to what I had expected. It happened in this way. As Harry and I were going home from school one afternoon, we heard a great noise in the street, and ' presently saw a dozen or twenty boys from a rival school of the village, armed with sticks and stones, and evidently bent upon a free fight.

Many a little skirmish had taken place between boys of the two schools, but none so serious as this had happened before. Evans and Wild, it seems, had led a similar battle on the previous evening, in which our neighbours had got the worst of it ; and now, they said, they had come to wipe off the disgrace. We were passing on without taking any further notice, when Evans shouted after us, " Won't you join the fight ? We gave them a good licking last night, and can do it again. Come on." As I could see no reason for the fray, and not caring to follow a boy I so thoroughly disliked, I whispered to Harry, "Let us keep out of this scrape, Harry; Evans and Wild have started the mischief, let them fight it out themselves." So we shouted our refusal and hurried on; but we had not gone more than half a dozen steps when Harry uttered a piercing cry of pain and fell down stunned, and I heard Evans shout, "Take that ! you're afraid, you're a coward like your father, Anderson."

Harry had received a blow on the head with a stone, and the blood was trickling freely from the wound ! Forgetting all self-restraint, I rushed back, and seizing Evans by the collar, cried in a passion, — " Did you throw that stone, you cowardly fellow ? " " Whom do you call a cowardly fellow ? " he re torted. "Yes, I threw the stone, if you want to know ; and it serves him right, and I'll give you something, too. There, take that ! " And suiting the action to the word, he gave me a violent blow in the eye, making it flash fire again. I was too heated to think of what I should do, and returned the blow with interest. A School-boy Fight. 15 " A fight ! a fight ! Jem Evans and Tom Hanson fighting ! ' ' And in a moment a crowd of boys from both schools were standing round, inciting first one and then the other.

Blows and hicks followed each other in quick succession. You shudder when I say hicks, but it is quite true ; for, in our village, not only fists, but also feet were used. And this will seem more horrible still when I tell you that nearly every boy, instead of boots and shoes, wore clogs with wooden soles, edged with iron and studded with ugly nails. I forgot, in those burning moments, the teach ings of home, and the constant warnings of my mother to avoid such brutal brawls. Evans, too, was a bigger boy than I was, and of a strong and stubborn build. The fight grew more violent. My natural dis like to Evans seemed to lend me a vigour and strength which I never thought possible; and somehow in my desperation, I made him stagger, to his surprise as well as my own. But his heavier weight, and the sense of shame which even then began to creep over me, made me feel quite sick; and I hardly know what would have been the result, if Mr. Benson had not at that moment arrived upon the scene, scattering the boys with his angry glance and uplifted stick.

As he came towards us, Evans seized his cap and coat, which he had hastily thrown off at the be ginning of the fray, and turned sulkily away, The Adventures of lorn Hanson. 16 leaving me rooted to the spot, abashed, and burning with shame. "Hanson," said Mr. Benson, laying his hand firmly on my shoulder, his mouth tightly com pressed, " Hanson, you surprise me ! I had expected better things of you." But seeing my hot and burning face, he seemed to relax a little, and said in a more softened tone, — " Come, tell me, how is this? How came you to be fighting with that big fellow, Evans, whom I thought you always so carefully avoided ? Did he strike you first ? " His words soothed me a little, and I replied in a faltering tone, — " No, sir, I began the fight ; it was my fault ; but I was so mad when I saw Anderson fall, stunned, on the ground, that I hardly knew what I was about."

" What ! Anderson stunned on the ground ! What do you mean ? Explain yourself." And so I related to him, as well as I could, the whole matter — how, as we were returning home, Anderson was struck on the head with a stone from behind ; how I immediately suspected Evans, his old tormentor ; how I roughly taxed him with his baseness and cruelty, and how the fight began. I could see the expression of his face gradually softening as I told my story, and saying in a firm tone, " Go home at once ; I will see the master, and we will inquire into the whole matter," he turned hastily away. School Life. 17