All but Lost. A novel

Front matter

§. gobd. LY G. A. HENTY, AUTHOR OF "THE MAKCH TO MAGDALA," ETC, ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: TINSLEY BROTHEES, 18, CATHERINE ST., STRAND. 1869. [The Right of Translation is reserved.] LONDON I BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS, CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. — COLLEGE LIFE . 1 II. — THE DUSTMAN'S FAMILY 22 III. — BROKEN DOWN 46 IV. — THE OWNERS OF WYVERN HALL . . . . 70 V. — A MODEST ANNIVERSARY . . . .94 VI. — THE BINGHAMS 118 VII. — A STARTLING SUGGESTION .... 138 VIII. — A SHATTERED HOME 169 IX. — WHAT WrILL IT LEAD TO ? 195 X. — PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL 221 XL — AN EVENING AT THE HOLLS' .... 244 XII. — THWARTED PLANS

Chapter I. College Life

It is near the end of the Lent term at Cambridge, a raw, clamp day7. The grey clouds are drifting thick and low, over the flat fen country, and a fine mist is falhng steadUy. But for once no one seems to mind the weather. It is two o'clock, and from all the colleges the men are pouring out in groups, on their way down to the river. Hardly a soul in the University remains behind. Even the reading men have closed their books for the afternoon, have given up their daily constitutional out beyond Trumpington, and are going down to see their college eights row. VOL. I. B It is the last day of the races. Along the men tramp in Uttle knots through the narrow winding streets — talking excitedly as they go, and making many bets as to the fortune of the day — and then, across the wet grass, down to the water side.

Here those who are to row cross the floating bridge to tbe boat-houses, while the others walk slowly along the banks, to see the boats as they paddle by on their way down. Soon they come ; John's in its blazing scarlet, Trinity in dark blue, cherry-coloured Emanuel, chocolate Corpus, and violet Caius ; Trinity- Hall in its sober grey, Sidney in bright orange, and Queen's in green.* These and many others sweep past, and the narrow river seems alive with the flashing oars. The men on the banks hurry now-, to be up at the starting posts in time. Some trot along for a little way, by tbe side of tbe boat they are most interested in, watching with anxious eye, the condition and form of each man, and tbe regular swing of the crew. Now they bave arrived at tbe post-reach, and are clustered along the towing path, while the boats, * Many of the colours have since been changed. by this time empty7, Ue at their respective stations.

Their crews stand alongside, looking grave and anxious, and receive the final words of advice and admonition from their captains. At length the last boat has arrived at its post, and the first gun fires. There are three minutes yet, but the men take their places in their boats, strip off the upper jerseys and comforters in which they are wrapped, and, amid a perfect babel of last words, of little speeches of encouragement and good will, from their friends on the bank, push slowly off. The crowd on the towing-path clusters thickest round the first three boats, but our place is by the fifth, for that contains the men whose for tunes will be the subject of this story. It is Caius ; before it Ues Emanuel, behind it Trinity Hall, confessedly the best crew of tbe three. Another gun. The tumult on the bank is bushed as if by magic, umbreUas are closed, coats but toned up, and all prepare for a start.

The boats lie out in the middle of the stream; twenty of them in a long line ; each with its eight stalwart oarsmen, aU in white, their caps forming the only distinguishing badges. Each B of the coxswains holds in his hand a rope attached to his post. These are forty yards apart, and each boat's bow is therefore only some sixty feet from the rudder of the one before it. There is a dead silence, broken only by voices of men on the bank counting the seconds, and by the short quick orders of the coxswains. " Fifteen seconds gone ; " — " Paddle bow and two;"— "Twenty;" "Thirty;" "Forty seconds gone ; " " Forty-five ; "— " Pull half a stroke bow ; "— " Fifty ; " " Fifty-five ; "— " Forward all ; " — " Sixty." As the word is heard, the gun is fired ; a hundred and sixty oars strike the water as if by one impulse.

At the same moment a roar of exhortation and encouragement breaks from the crowd on the bank; they set off to run — a wild, pushing, shouting throng. No easy matter is it to keep up with the flying boats, jostled and pushed in that excited, eager crowd. Woe be to bim who falls, — fortunate by7 comparison he who is pushed into the river. A wild looking set are they : men in boating dresses of every variety of colour, their arms waving frantically ; men in pea-jackets, and waterproof coats and wraps of every description ; sober reading men, lost in the tumult, bewildered and hustled, intent only on keeping their feet, all shouting in voices which grow momentarily hoarse and broken. The boats bad got an equally good start, but in the first few hundred yards Trinity Hall had considerablylessened tbe gap between itself and Caius, while the latter had gained but slightly upon Emanuel.

In this order they round the post corner, rand dash on through the gut to Grassy7. " Now bow and three, now bow and three," is the shout, and the boats sweep round tbe sharp curve. Here Emanuel steers rather wild, and her pursuer has palpably7 gained upon ber. The shouting redoubles ; men who have dropped be hind from the leading boats join the throng and take up the cry. " Now-, Caius, now; you're gain ing, you'regaining." " Now, Trinity Hall, take her along." Tliere are not thirty feet between Emanuel and Caius, while Trinity Hall is not twenty behind the latter. On they fly, the boats leaping forward at each stroke Uke long hungry water snakes after their prey, past the Plough, and round Ditton corner. Here a fresh burst of cheering breaks out from the opposite bank, from numbers stationed there ; — dons too old and staid to run along the towing path, and men on horse back, who start to gallop alongside.

Many7 ladies are there too ; these wave their handkerchiefs and parasols, and would like to run along with the rest. On the boats dart ; rounding the corner the tired crews pull with renewed energy and hope. It is straight home now ; only another half mile. They are nearing each other fast. There is certain to be a bump : which boat will make it ? Nearer and nearer. Trinity Hall overlaps Caius ; but her bow has not touched her flying adversary, and whenever it draws near, the rudder of the Caius boat is slightly turned, and a rush of water thrown against it. This cannot last. Inch by inch they draw up, and Caius is still three feet behind Emanuel. Her chance seems hopeless. All at once, in a momen tary luU of the shouting, a well-known voice from the throng, that of one of the college tutors, himself once a famous oar, comes out clear and strong — "Now, Caius, now — twenty strokes, and you are in to them.

One — two — three." The crowd take up the cry : " four " — " five " — " six ; " and at each stroke the boat seems to leap upon its adversary. " Seven " — " eight "— " three more and you do it." " Nine " — " ten " — "eleven ;" and a last wild cheer breaks out as the nose of the Caius boat touches the rudder of Emanuel, and the bump is made. The two boats immediately puU aside to let those behind them pass, and the gasping crews lean on their oars, exhausted and breathless. One or two get out, too done-up to pull farther, while friends on the bank take their places. The Ught University blue flag, with the Caius' arms in the centre, is hoisted triumphantly in the stern, and the boat paddles quietly on again, saluted by a burst of " see tbe conquering hero comes," from the band on the barge near tbe railway bridge.

The excitement is over, and the men on ~ tbe bank, awaking to the consciousness that they are terribly wet, once more put up their umbrellas, and make the best of their way back to college. It is evening now in the quiet courts of Caius. The wind has quite dropped, tbe rain has ceased, and the night is still and dark ; but from some of the windows the Ughts stream out brightly into the gloom, and sounds of singing and loud laughter at times break out across the deserted court. Now a man crosses the court, smoking a short pipe, with a very battered cap upon bis bead, and a very short gown over bis shoulders ; goes up the stairs tb one of the rooms from which the laughter and noise come loudest, stops at a door over which the name of Grahame is painted in white letters, opens it, and goes in.

His arrival is greeted with shouts of welcome, with a great thumping of tumblers, and cries of " Hurrah, seven ! Well rowed, old man! " " Come up this way7, Frank," a voice from the other end of the room shouted through the smoke ; " I bave kept a place for you here by me. " I'll come as soon as I can see my way," tbe new comer answered; "but, upon my word, con sidering that it's barely nine o'clock yet, you bave managed to blow a very fair amount of tobacco smoke between you." Accordingly he made his way up to the end of the room, and took his seat by tbe side of his host, who was the captain and stroke of the Caius eight, and had given this party to celebrate the victory of the day, and the termination of the last month's training. The men round the table, by the unanimity and earnestness with which they were smoking, seemed determined to make up for their long abstinence from the fragrant weed.

Frank Maynard, the new comer, was a tall, wiry man, lithe and sinewy, with broad sloping shoulders. His face was long and narrow, still whiskerless, or nearly so, and be would be pro bably a much better-looking man in another two or three years than be was now. But he could never be handsome ; his features were by no means regular, and his honest eyes, frank smile, and powerful frame, constituted at present bis only claims to attraction. He was generally addressed by his Christian name, a sure sign at the University of unusual popularity. Upon Frank's left sat his cousin, Fred Bingham, and a stronger contrast could hardly be imagined. Fred Bingham was under the middle height, and his figure was extremely slight, almost as much so as that of a boy of fourteen, and his waist could have been spanned by the hands of an ordinary man.

Apart from tbe extraordinary y7outhfulness of his appearance, be was good-looking, with well-cut aristocratic features. His hair was very fair, and his face had hardly a trace of colour. His voice was high-pitched and thin, and his laugh especially more resembled that of a girl than a man. He had small and well-formed feet, but bis hands curiously were large, red, and coarse. Among a certain set in the college with whom he cared to make himself agreeable he was much liked, but among the boating set be was intensely un popular. These big, strong men were antipa thetic to him, their powerful figures dwarfed his, their deep hearty7 voices drowned his weak treble and girlish laugh, and his disagreeable remarks and cutting sneers frequently caused disputes wbich it needed all his cousin Frank's influence to allay.

Indeed, had it not been for Frank's popularity, tbe crew would never bave retained him for their coxswain, notwithstanding the fact tbat be really was a most useful man, always cool and collected, with a perfect knowledge of the river, a good judge of rowing, and above all a feather-weight. It is unnecessary to enter into any details as to the doings of the evening, the speech-making, the songs, the drinking, and the smoking. Every one can imagine the scene for himself, and may conceive the noise, the shouting and laughing wbich twenty yroung fellows in full health and spirits, highly satisfied with themselves and their day's work, would make upon such an occasion. So great was the hubbub indeed that the dons across the court began to think that even tbe victory of the day, which they themselves had discussed with great satisfaction over their wine in the common room, could hardly excuse such an uproarious meeting as this.

About midnight, however, the party began to break up, and tbe men scattered over the college to their respec tive rooms, singing snatches of songs as they went. And then the courts were stiU again. Frank Maynard, and a fewof the quieter men, sat for another hour smoking and discussing the race, agreeing that the credit of the day was mainly due to Crockford, the don who had called upon them for the final ten strokes which had effected tbe bump. After this they, too, separated, and in a few minutes Caius was quiet for the night. Frank Maynard bad not been very long asleep when be was awakened by a shouting, and the sound of running in the street. He opened his eyes — the room was lit up with a dull red light — and he hardly needed the cry of " Fire ! fire ! " to tell him what was the matter.

He leaped from his bed, threw up his window, and looked out. There were no flames visible, but the fronts of the houses on the opposite side of tbe road were aglow with a dark fiery glare. It was evident that the flames were behind him — that one of the colleges was on fire. He ran into the sitting-room — to the windows which looked into the court, and there, through the trees before him, across the court, was a great glare, and sparks flying up. It was close — so close that he could not tell whether it was in the next court of his own college or in Trinity Hall, which lies behind it, separated only by a narrow lane. It was the work of a minute to throw on his clothes, and to run downstairs and across to the gateway leading to tbe next court ; and then he saw that the fire was not there, but in Trinity Hall.

Turning back, be ran to the porter's-lodge. It was already open, and the porter, in answer to an appeal at tbe gate for assistance, bad just gone into the college to rouse the men. Frank ran down the narrow lane between Caius and the schools, and in another minute was in Trinity Hall. From the rooms above tbe gate way a volume of flame and red smoke was pour hag out. Not many men were as yet in the court; those there were, belonged to tbe college itself. They were looking on, ready enough to assist, but helpless at present. The engines had not yet arrived, and the flames were having it all their own way, pouring out witb a fierce crackling from the windows of the first-floor. The volume of red smoke, Ut up by an occa sional tongue of flame, which filled tbe adjoin ing rooms, showed that it was rapidly spreading.

Very soon a bright ripple of flame runs along tbe ceilings, tbe window curtains catch, the glass shivers into fragments at tbe fiery touch, and the flames rush out with a roar of triumph. Now the men from the coUeges near, from Caius and Trinity and Clare, are clustering in, together with a few of the townspeople. Presently the engines come lumbering up, and the handles are seized by eager volunteers. But there is no water at hand, and tbe hose are not long enough to reach to the river behind. So long lines of men are formed down to the water-side, who pass the buckets along from band to hand, and in a few minutes the engines begin to work. By this time the fire has got a firm hold of the part attacked, and the upper stories are one sheet of flame. Dainty food do the old colleges, with their rickety wooden staircases and wainscoted rooms, dry and inflammable as so much tinder, offer to the hungry fire.

At last tbe engines are in full play, and work at a speed at which engines have seldom worked before. Most of those at the handles are boating-men, who have been for weeks in some sort of training. Beneath their powerful arms the cranks work up and down, with a rapid stroke, very unlike the usual monotonous clank of a fire-engine. The men encourage each other with cheering shouts and boating cries of " Now then, all together ! " " Now she moves ! " and the jets of water dash eagerly in at the blazing windows. But tbe fire still spreads. The roof falls in. The flames mount up more fiercely and brightly than before, with vast volumes of glowing smoke, and myriads of fiery sparks. Dayis dawning, and the crowded court presents a strange sight as the grey morn ing light breaks on tbe red flashing of the fire.

Some of the men are in pea-jackets with boating caps of every colour, others are in their caps and gowns. Here a party7 is working its engine with untiring vigour, there another group is impatiently awaiting fresh supplies of water ; long lines of men are passing the buckets to and from the river. Sober dons are as busy and excited as any; a few are directing the operations, the rest are hard at work among the undergraduates. In spite of their exertions tbe fire still spreads. All are anxious ; for if the flames extend to the adjoining wing of the court, Trinity, which is only separated by a narrow lane, is certain to catch fire. These old places are terribly inflam mable. Some of the dons therefore get upon the roof, Crockford of Caius most active among them, and dhect the hose of tbe engines ; not unfre quently in their haste and inexperience deluging themselves and each other with water, to tbe amusement of the undergraduates below.

No attempt is now made to extinguish the fire in the part it has already seized upon, every effort being directed to prevent it from spreading. Several times the flames break into the adjoining rooms, but the dons with the hose, on ladders at the windows, stand their ground and beat them back. All this time the college servants are moving about witb cans of beer among the men at work; the butteries of the colleges near are thrown open, and refreshments served to all comers. At last tbe efforts to check the flames are successful, and they spread no farther. Another hour passes, and it is evident that all danger is over. The flames only shoot up at intervals from tbe shell they have destroyed. The gown then leave it to the firemen to pump upon the ruins, and scatter to their homes to breakfast.

By tbe time that Frank Maynard had changed his things and was ready, a friend who bad been working next to him at the engine, and who had agreed to come in to breakfast, arrived. Arthur Prescott was a man with a short, thick-set figure, and a kindly face with a quaint, old fashioned expression — one of those faces wbich, on a boy's shoulders, looks like that of an old man, but wbich never alters, and in old age looks younger than it bad ever done before. Arthur Prescott — he had been always called Old Prescott at school, and his intimate friends never spoke of him as anything else even now — was a general favourite. No one was ever heard to say a bad word of bim. He was one of those men in whom all around bim seem instinctively to confide, and to make a depositary of secrets which they would never relate to anyone else ; a straightforward, sensible, true-hearted English gentleman.

Prescott and Maynard bad been great friends when boys together at Westminster ; and, indeed, it was principally the fact of the former's coming to Caius which had induced Frank to choose that coUege in preference to any other. Maynard greeted bis arrival witb, " That's right, Prescott, you're just in time to help me ; there is tbe gridiron, put the steak on whUe I see about tbe coffee." For some time there was_ little conversation. Prescott was fuUy occupied with his cuhnary charge, and Maynard in the preparation of the coffee ; the apparatus being one of those beauti fully-scientific inventions, which, while they pro duce no doubt an excellent result, demand inces- VOL. I. c sant attention, and are Uable, in the event of the least thing going wrong, to explode with disastrous consequences.

At last all was ready, and they sat down to breakfast. They bad scarcely begun when a new-comer entered. " I thought I should find you at breakfast, Maynard. Give me some, Uke a good fellow. My fire is gone out, and I can't find either my gyp or bed-maker, although I've been shouting from the window till I am as hoarse as a raven. What are you eating ? Steak, and mighty nicely done too." Their hunger once somewhat appeased, they began to talk over the events of the past night, and of the boat supper. "Do you know, Frank," Teddy Drake said, after a pause, " that cousin of yours — Bingham — becomes more unpleasant every day. I thought last night there would bave been a row half-a dozen times. He is the most insufferable little beggar I ever came across." Frank laughed. " Bingham does make him self disagreeable, Drake, I quite allow; but it is really all manner, be is not a bad fellow."

"I only go by what I see and hear, Frank, and I call him a cantankerous little vermin." " It is aU outside, Drake ; be is a good-hearted fellow in the main." " I don't think it, Frank. I teU you he is a chip of the evh one." " Without going as far as Drake," Prescott said, smiling, " I confess, Frank, that I don't like Bingham. It is not that he is disagreeable, although he certainly is that, but that I feel instinctively repeUed by him. Frankly, May nard, he gives me tbe impression of being bad hearted. He is essentially a man I could not trust." " Oh come, Prescott," Frank said, warmly, " tbat is not like you. I have known Fred for many years, and I believe him to be a very straightforward fellow. Disagreeable and can tankerous if you like, but a good fellow in the main. In his way he reminds me, although be is as straight as an arrow, of deformed people.

They are generaUy kind-hearted, but they are often extremely sensitive. They imagine all sorts of slights where none are intended, and are not unfrequently very bitter in their remarks on those C to whom nature has been more bountiful than to themselves. So with Fred ; I am sure be feels it very much that he looks a mere boy, and it makes him irritable and snappish." " I have no doubt there is a good deal in what you say, Frank ; but I confess tbat somehow or other I distrust as much as I dislike him." "He's a chip of the evil one," Teddy Drake muttered to himself, " and there are no two ways about it." "Now, Drake," Frank said, " help me to push the table back, and let's have a pipe. Another fortnight and we shall be going down ; now tbe races are over I shall be glad to be away." "I am going to stop up and read," Teddy Drake said, disconsolately.

" My coach says that I never open a book when the men are up, and that my only chance is in the vacations, when there is nothing to do. I am afraid he's about right ; and I've made up my mind to stick to it. I shall run up to town and see tbe ' 'Varsity,' of course, but that's all the hoUdays I mean to take." " Look here, Drake," Frank said ; " tbe best thing you can do is to come and stay for the week with me. My guardian is a capital old fellow, and there's lots of room in the house." " I should like it of all things, Frank ; but does he object to smoke, because I couldn't do without that ? " " He wouldn't like it in the breakfast-room," Frank laughed ; " but he smokes himself in his study, and I have a special smoking-room up stairs." " In that case, Frank, I shall be delighted. That guardian of yours must be a trump.

I wish my father saw things in the same reasonable light. He's always down upon me about smo king ; but I am afraid be will never cure me of it." " I am afraid not, Teddy-. Well, y7ou can smoke as much as you like while y-ou are witb j) us.

Chapter II. The Dustman's Family

Nearly three years bave passed since the night of the fire at Trinity Hall. It is a cold wintry afternoon, not a clear frost, but raw and foggy. Tbe ice is forming rapidly, and the cos termongers are reaping a rich harvest. All the ponds near London are centres of noisy groups of men with carts, of all sizes and sorts, from the large two-horse vehicle down to mere boxes upon wheels drawn by diminutive donkeys. Tbe drivers are striving and quarrelling, and ex changing volleys of abusive language with each other, in their anxiety for priority of place and right of filling theh carts. Those next to tbe water are engaged in breaking the ice with poles, or with hon weights attached to cords. With these they draw the ice to the shore, puUing it up witb rakes, and shovelling and Ufting it into the carts.

When they are filled they drive off to dispose of their loads to confectioners and fishmongers. Although it is nearly dusk there are still a good many strollers by the banks of tbe Ser pentine looking at the state of the ice, and cal culating on the chances of skating. On the other side of tbe bridge, on the long water, the ice is already strong, and will probably bear after another night's frost ; but tbe Serpentine itself, from its greater breadth and depth, is still thin in many places, and will require two or three days more frost before it will be safe. Tbe ice is everywhere smooth and black, and it is agreed that if the frost holds there wiU be capital skating. Frank Maynard is walking along the side of the Serpentine with his friend Prescott. He has been for two years upon the Continent, and this is bis first winter in England since he left coUege.

"It will be splendid ice for skating if the frost holds, Prescott. I must certainly invest in a pair of new skates. I have some somewhere, but where I bave not the remotest idea. You must put by your books, and keep me company, at any rate for a day or two." " I don't think I can do that, Frank. I don't like breaking in upon my regular work ; and, indeed, I don't care very much for skating. It must be very pleasant for a really good skater, who can wheel about like a bird, and perform aU those intricate figures ; otherwise, especially tbe first day or two of the season, it is very fatiguing and straining. If I could put by my books for a month, I would devote myself to it with all my heart, but for one or two days the pleasure does not pay for the pain. Look, Frank ! there is something the matter."

A knot of people were standing together at the edge of the water, apparently watching some smaU black object upon the ice, but it was already too dusk for the friends, until they came quite close, to see what was the matter. A small dog had run out upon the ice, which was in most places quite strong enough to bear it, but there were many patches, over the powerful springs which weU-up in parts of the Serpentine, where the ice had as yet formed a mere skin. On one of these treacherous places the little animal had run, and had at once gone through. AU round it the ice was extremely thin, and, as the dog endea voured to scramble out, it broke under its fore paws, until a good-sized space of water was cleared, round which the poor little animal kept swimming. Had it continued its efforts only in the Une towards the shore, the dog would speedily have broken its way to stronger ice.