William Blacklock, journalist. A love story, etc

Front matter

UNIFORM WITH "Wllliam Blacklock, Journalist" Crown 81/0, Antique paper, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. JAMES INWICK, PLOUGHMAN AND ELDER By P. HAY HUNTER author of "the silver bullet" "sons of the croft" etc. AND JOINT-AUTHOR OF " MY DUCATS AND MY DAUGHTER" A LOVE STORY OF PRESS LIFE BV T. BANKS MACLACHLAN " Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel" EDINBURGH & LONDON OLIPHANT ANDERSON & FERRIER PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB, EDINBURGH, FOR OLIPHANT, ANDERSON, & FERRIER, EDINBURGH AND LONDON. CONTENTS CHAP. PAOE I. A REPORTER'S CAREER BEGINS — AND NEARLY ENDS . 7 II. BLACKLOCK SHOWS HIS METTLE . .17 III. THE SEAMY SIDE OF JOURNALISM . . .25 IV. ELACKLOCK MAKES A FATEFUL JOURNEY . . 34 V. A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE . . . .41 VI. THE LOVE OF RUTH WILTON AND WILLIE BLACKLOCK 47 VII. THE FIRST MEETING WITH GERTRUDE HOFFMAN . 55 VIII.

PLAYING WITH FIRE ..... 64 IX. EDITOR-BAITING ..... 77 X. A SENSATION IN THE SMALL HOURS . . .86 XI. SANDY MACTIPPIE'S COURTSHIP . . .94 XII. FOEGING HIS OWN FETTERS .... 107 XIII. BLACKLOCK RECEIVES A MOMENTOUS INVITATION . 117 XIV. THE FALSE LOVE AND THE TRUE . . . 127 XV. GP.OTT SHOWS A SURPRISING KNOWLEDGE OF LOW LIFE 138 XVI. THE GOSSIPS INTEREST THEMSELVES IN BLACKLOCK's LOVE AFFAIRS ..... 150 XVII. A JOURNALIST'S RELIGION .... 163 XVIII. TWO LOVERS ON THE RACK .... 174 XIX. LOVE WILL OUT ..... CONTENTS CHAP. FAGS XX. FATE TURNS THE GLASS .... 195 XXI. A CRUSHING BLOW ..... 202 XXII. A REVOLT IN A NEWSPAPER OFFICE . . . 209 XXIII. A BACHELOR FURNISHES A HOUSE . . . 218 XXIV. OLD FEARS IN A YOUNG HEAD . . . 226 XXV. AN UNHAPPY BRIDEGROOM .... 240 XXVI. "WHEN POVERTY COMES IN AT THE DOOR " . . 249 XXVII.

A DIRE TEMPTATION ..... 263 XXVIII. A SLUMBERING LOVE AWAKENED . . . 273 XXIX. love's LAST ORDEAL ..... 280 XXX. PAYING THE RECKONING .... 289 XXXI. AN UNEXPECTED REAPPEARANCE . . . 301 XXXII. WEIGHED IN THE BALANCE .... JOURNALIST

Chapter I

A REPORTER'S CAREER BEGINS — AND NEARLY ENDS OOD-BYE again, my son ; an' God bless you." " Good-bye, father." "An' tak' tent to your ways in the great city." "Kever fear, father; good-bye." " Good-bye, "Widiam ; " and old Abel Blacklock once more wrung his son's hand as the express train for the _Nbrth thundered out of the darkness into the wayside station of Langdale, and pulled up, panting and snorting, as if im patient at the delay, to take on board the few passengers who were likely to be found at that isolated Border town. Doors were opened and slammed, parcels were pitched from the van on to the platform, the stationmaster and the guard exchanged a few hurried sentences, the whistle sounded, and the train shot out into the darkness again before the inquisitive passenger who wanted to know the name of the station could lower the window and thrust forth his head.

Abel Blacklock wistfully watched the train till the rear lights were suddenly swallowed up in the adjacent tunnel ; JOURNALLST 8 then he turned and walked slowly up the brae, on the top of which his house and woodyard were perched side by side. "He'sgane," said his neighbour, Watty Armstrong, the tanner, who was lounging at his front door in his shirt sleeves, puffing gravely at a short clay pipe. "Ay, he's gane," Blacklock replied, with characteristic laconicism, and passed on. Watty was disappointed. He had waylaid Blacklock in the hope of having "a crack" with him about a subject that had been one of the chief themes of conversation and speculation in Langdale circles for nearly a month — the departure of William Blacklock for Hidburgh to join the stalf of the Mercury, the great daily. Wdliam's appoint ment was regarded as an honour to be shared by the whole community.

The townspeople could not be said to definitely comprehend the nature of the duties attached thereto, or estimate its emoluments ; but the first were believed to be arduous and mysterious, and the other enormous. " If he's no' aditor he's next door to't," Watty Armstrong had said knowingly to a group of awed listeners. " D'ye tell me that . " exclaimed Peter Stapples, the weaver, giving voice to the general wonderment. " Ay, that I dae. He's a terrible clever chield, is Wullie Blacklock. Ye'h hear mair o' the Mercury, noo that he's ta'en it in haund." Watty was one of that curious class whose delight it is to be thought conversant with the affairs of their neighbours, and who deem no trouble too great provided it enhances their reputation in that respect. Hence his eagerness to entice Abel Blacklock into a conversation, and his disappointment at the failure of the attempt.

He retreated to his fireside " wi' his mouth fa'en fowre holes," as Mrs Armstrong described the chapfallen aspect of her spouse. Abel Blacklock passed on up the hill, and entered his house, whose sole occupant now, besides himself, was Janet, a housekeeper and general servant of extreme age, who, since the death of Mrs. Blacklock, had assumed the super vision of the household. As Janet was almost stone deaf it would have been useless to have unburdened himself to her, even if the stern old man had felt inclined to do so, which he did not. But this infirmity was no reason why the " readin' o' the chapter " should not be conducted with the accustomed ceremony ; and Janet, summoned from the kitchen, sat bolt upright in a corner whde he slowly and reverently read the allotted portion of Scripture, of which she did not hear a single word.

The abrupt closing of the Bible was the signal for Janet to leave the room, but first she stepped forward to the table to return the book to its resting-place on the top of the chest of drawers, beside the glass case of stuffed birds and the stand of waxen fruit. "Let it bide," said Blacklock, keeping his closed hand on the Bible ; and Janet, understanding the gesture, hobbled from the room in silence. When he was alone, Blacklock opened the book at the family register, and, wiping and adjusting his spectacles, read over the entries slowly and carefully, as if he had some weighty purpose in view. Then, lifting a pen, he added, in bold, sprawling letters, to the record of his son William's birth — "Left home to join the staff of the Mercury newspaper, 28th September 18 — ." It was more than an hour before the grey old man roused himself with a deep sigh from a dream of the dim past, replaced the book, and went slowly off to bed, feeling more sad and lonely than he had done since the day his wife died.

Meanwhile Blacklock the younger was sitting comfortably curled up in a corner of the railway carriage, happy in visions of the future. His eyes were closed, and he held an open letter in his hand. The expression on his face was a most pleasant one, and occasionady he smiled, as if some happy thought were passing through his mind. Leaning forward, so that the uncertain light of the lamp might fall upon the letter, he read it over slowly more than once ; and then, settling himself in the corner again, he drew his travelling cap over his forehead, shut his eyes, and, as was evident from the happy play of his features, resumed the same pleasing train of thought. The letter which the young man had read with such satisfaction was from Messrs. Hendon & Hartley, pro prietors of the Mercury, one of the most prosperous and influential of the great morning newspapers, and it recorded the engagement of William Blacklock as junior reporter on that journal, at a salary of £120 a year.

For about two years previous to this time, Blacklock, now in his twenty-third year, had combined the duties of shopman in a stationery and general warehouse in Langdale with those of district correspondent for the Mercury ; and having on more than one occasion exhibited abilities above those of the average country contributor, and thereby brought himself under the favourable notice of the keen witted proprietors, who seemed to know and to see every thing bearing on the efficiency of their journal, he had httle difficulty in obtaining a coveted post on the literary staff when one became vacant. To get on to the permanent staff of the Mercury had been an ambition long and secretly cherished by Blacklock, in common with most country correspondents. Let him once, he thought, put his foot on the first rung of the ladder, and he would rapidly make his way to eminence.

And even should he not gain a great altitude in his profession, the mere fact of being on the Mercury, the great daily, seemed in itself the fulfilment of no mean ambition. It needed but a glance at his pale, expressive face to read there high hope and buoyant spirits. As he lay, dreamy and comfortable, he was picturing in fancy the career that had opened up before him. Each step to success seemed so clear, so easy, failure so improbable. The roar and rattle of the train as it dashed on through the darkness made fitting accompaniment to the impetuous on rush of the crowd of brdliant fancies that swept through his brain ; then the sound of the wheels as they beat the metals settled into a luding rhythm, and Blacklock slept, to dream that he had blossomed with marvellous rapidity into an " able editor," and was astonishing everybody by his splendid achievements in journalism.

A sudden jerk, a violent gripping of the brake on the wheels, fodowed by a long shriek from the engine whistle, interrupted those bright visions, and before Blacklock could give a thought to what had happened, he was pitched with irresistible force to the opposite side of the carriage. Then came a terrific crashing, grinding, and whirring, a prolonged roar like a thunder-clap ; and his senses left him. When he came to himself he was lying on his back on a grassy bank by the side of the radway. For a few minutes he lay looking blankly up to the moonht sky, and wondering where he was. Presently the sound of shouts and hurrying feet and the swaying of lanterns brought him to fud consciousness, and, raising himself on his elbow, he looked around him. Heaped into a huge ruin upon the railway track lay the train in which he had travelled.

Beneath the shattered carriages the engine, twisted and battered into fantastic shape, belched forth smoke and hissed and quivered like a living thing. Already the fire from the furnace had begun to take hold upon the wreckage. Carriages with their sides wrenched off, others with their ends smashed in, some over turned and partially embedded in the badast and mud ; others tossed entire, as if by some giant hand, right on the top of the ruin and poised there as if by magic ; portmanteaux, trunks, coats, and hats, and here and there a human body firmly wedged between heavy masses of splintered timber — this was the scene that impressed itself upon Blacklock's returning consciousness. Save a dazed and numb sensation, and a throbbing pain in his forehead, he felt no injury, and he made an effort to rise.

But his legs shook under him, his body seemed as heavy as lead, and with a stagger he fell to the earth again, where he lay, unable to move or cry out. Soon he became aware of the approach of hurrying footsteps and eager voices ; lanterns began to flit about up and down the line, and two men, kneeling beside him, laid their hands on his face and passed them over his limbs. "This one seems to be a' richt, doctor," said one of the men, whose uniform showed him to be a railway porter. " Yes, apparently ; partially stunned. We must have him taken to the waiting-room," was the reply, spoken in the low, calm tones of the practised medical man. Raising Blacklock's head, the doctor poured some brandy down his throat, and directing the porter to turn the lamp on his patient's face, watched it closely.

"Thanks," Blacklock murmured, strengthened by the stimulant. " Will you help me to rise 1 " Assisted by strong arms, he rose and walked along the line, leaning heavily on the shoulder of the porter, while the doctor hurried to where a group of the rescue party were bending over two prostrate forms. The short silence that had fodowed upon the reverberating crash of the collision was now broken, and as Blacklock picked his way among the wreckage, his ears were filled with groans and shrieks and wdd cries for help. "This is terrible!" he said, shuddering. "How did it happen 1 " " God save us, man, dinna speak aboot that the noo," the porter answered excitedly ; " we've an awfu' job afore us the nicht. It would be better for you no* to look at ony thing, but come quick to the waitin'-room. Ye're maybe mair hurt than ye think o\ Thus admonished, Blacklock stumbled onward, and in a few minutes entered the station, and was assisted to one of the waiting-rooms.

"Noo rest yersel' here a bit. Ye seem to be the first o' the passengers that's been got oot. I maun awa' back to help. Ye'd soon be a' richt again." For some time Blacklock was left to himself in the dingy, comfortless waiting-room, for the station was quite deserted, the radway servants and the few travellers who had been waiting for trains having rushed off to give assistance at the first word of alarm. But it was not long before the station began to be thronged by excited people, who had come from the little town of Welford, about a quarter of a mile from the railway. Every now and again a party of men, bearing an improvised stretcher, would make their way silently through the crowd, sometimes with an injured but still living passenger; but with terrible frequency the burden they carried was covered from view — a sdent indication that a dead body lay beneath.

While this grim work was progressing, Blacklock's faculties, under the combined effects of rest and stimulating food, were rapidly regaining their normal activity, and with it returned his strong journalistic instincts. It has been said that a special providence watches over newspaper reporters, and, unlike many proverbial sayings, this behef is grounded upon almost unvarying experience. Reporters travel by land and sea much more than the average mortal. They are out in all weathers, and at all hours of the day and night. They traverse the busiest streets, and penetrate into the vilest and most dangerous slums. And yet does any one ever read of a reporter having been drowned in a disaster at sea, or killed in a railway accident, or having his neck broken in an overturned carriage, or being garrotted in a back street, or even run over by a cab or cart or omnibus 1 The newspaper man may happen to be in the company of those who meet their death by one or other of these mischances, but if he is a man worthy of his profession he will make his escape in condition sound enough to permit of his writing a lively description of the adventure for his particular journal.

Throw a true reporter out of the window, and when he comes to earth — which he will certainly do on his feet — his first thought wid be how best to turn the incident into "copy." This being so, it was natural that when Blacklock had recovered somewhat from his stupor his first thought should be of the Mercury. He telegraphed to the editor, apprising him of the accident, and asking for instructions. Then he set himself to learn the facts of the disaster. So far as he could gather from the rambling and contradictory state ments of the officials, the accident had been caused by the express running into a goods train which had missed the points at Welford Junction and run on to the wrong line. The express train, going at full speed at the time, had cut the goods train in two, then leaping from the rails, had hurled itself against a steep, rocky embankment, and been dashed to pieces.

It was not known how many passengers had been kided ; but ten dead bodies had been recovered from the wreckage, and the number of seriously injured was very large. While Blacklock, notwithstanding a sense of returning pain and languor, was hurrying hither and thither, gathering this information in disjointed fragments, a telegram was thrust into his hand — a reply to his message to the editor. " Come on by first train to Hillburgh. Reporters on way to Welford," he read with indescribable relief ; for now he was thoroughly jaded in body and mind, and at once he entered the special train that was about to start for Hill burgh with those passengers who had escaped unhurt, or whose injuries were not so serious as to prevent their removal. When the train had got fairly under way, Blacklock prepared to write an account of the disaster, but he was dismayed to find that the violent aching of his head, the dimness of the hght in the carriage, and the jolting and swaying, made impossible a task which even under the most favourable circumstances is none of the easiest.

Again and again he made the attempt, but the words would not come, nor would the pencd obey his trembling fingers, and at length he gave up in despair. When the train drew up at the first halting-place on the way, the door of Blacklock's carriage was abruptly opened by a tad, strongly-built man, buttoned up to the chin in a heavy ulster, and with a travelliDg-cap drawn over his ears. "Are you Mr. Blacklock?" he asked, taking a wed browned meerschaum from his mouth, and sweeping Black lock with a glance that seemed to take in every detail of the young man's appearance in a moment. "I'm Mr Weldon, of the Mercury," continued the stranger. "I'm on my way to Welford Junction. Have you written any thing about the accident yet?" He spoke very calmly, coldly, and with remarkable deliberation; he looked a man to whom emotion and excitement were unknown.

"I've got the facts," Blacklock replied, not a httle em barrassed and annoyed at such an inauspicious first meeting with the chief of the reporting staff, " but I have been so much shaken that I can scarcely hold a pencd. I have not written anything yet, but I think I could dictate an account." "That's unfortunate, for it's very late now," said Weldon, looking at his watch and frowning slightly. "I should like a good account of this — as much as you can turn out. So far as I can make out, the Advertiser men have not heard of the accident, so it's likely the Mercury will be the only paper that wdll have it to-morrow morning. Go on, and I'll wire that you're coming. Good-night." The chief reporter walked leisurely across the platform, and re-entered his train just as it was moving away. Mr. Weldon did everything in a leisurely way ; by twenty years' practice he had raised deliberation to a fine art.

He had the reputation of being the most self-controlled pressman in the country. In times when excitement was at fever heat, and men of nerve were in danger of losing their heads, no matter how important or appalling the occurrence, Weldon always remained calm, collected, unruffled, with all his wits on the alert. Indeed, it was an article of faith with his codeagues that their chief's pulses would not vary by one single beat even at the sounding of the Last Trump.

Chapter II Blacklock Shows His Mettle

Wfr&*W: HEN the train reached Hillburgh, Blacklock's P%J|hW endurance had well-nigh given way. The pain pi3|%9 in his head threatened to overmaster him, his eyes swam, his limbs were trembling beneath him. But with a supreme effort of will he roused himself, and called out as cheery as possible an " All right " when hailed by a messenger, sent down with a cab from the Mercury Office. It was now on the stroke of midnight ; the streets were deserted and stdl ; and it was with a sensation as of passing into a new world that Blacklock alighted under the glare that streamed from the windows, and entered the newspaper office. He was struck by the perfect quiet that reigned every where. The padded doors swnng noiselessly to and fro ; indiarubber mats in the corridors made footsteps inaudible ; in fact, had it not been for the continuous clicking of the telegraph and the rattle of the " shoots " as they sped, laden with " copy," to the composing-room in the upper flat, one might have thought that those hot, brilliantly-lighted ro"ms were empty.

A curious odour pervaded the office, one that he had never felt before; it seemed to come from a mixture of tobacco smoke, printer's ink, and indiarubber. WLLLLAM BLACKLOCK, JOURNALLST Blacklock, filled with something akin to awe — the be coming spirit in which to penetrate the mysteries of a great journal — was conducted by the messenger across the had, and suddenly ushered into a large room where, seated at small tables littered with books and newspapers, were half a dozen young men writing as if some heavy stake depended upon their rapidity. They were so engrossed with their work that Blacklock's entrance did not attract their notice till, bending over one of the reporters — for it was the reporters' room they had entered — the messenger said something in a low tone. "Mr. Blacklock, how are you?

I'm glad you've come," said the reporter, rising and shaking the new-comer by the hand, while the others looked at him for a moment from under their eyebrows. " Take a chair. I have a wire from Mr. Weldon. He says you've something about the accident to dictate. I'll take it down at once." Adroitly and politely the reporter — a short, dark young man, and bald, though young — placed a chair and relieved Blacklock of his hat and overcoat. " There's a tremendous pressure on to-night — tremendous," he rattled on briskly, clearing the table as he spoke. "Gladstone has reeled off seven columns in the House to-night ; we've a big political demonstration in the city — Salisbury on the stump ; and then there's the accident at Welford. Misfortunes never come but in troops. The old man's as fierce as a bear robbed of her cubs.

He swears the paper will never get out in time. But here goes." With that irreverent allusion to the editorial anxiety, the reporter threw himself into a chair, seized a note-book and pencil, and prepared to write from Blacklock's dictation with the air of one who resignedly submits to a hard necessity. The first sentence of any composition is always the most BLACKLOCK SHOWS HLS METTLE 19 difficult to write. Once it is committed to paper the pen runs on with comparative fluency. But Blacklock had mentally conned over his introduction when sitting in the train, and was about to begin without halt or hesitation, when the door opened and a man of singular appearance entered. He was tall and squarely built, a man of powerful physique. His dress was negligent even to slovenliness. A short jacket hung loosely from his broad shoulders, glossy with wear, and minus several buttons.

His trousers were creased and " baggy," his necktie was awry, and his slippers were long past the merely shabby stage. But Blacklock did not at the moment notice these eccentricities in dress ; his attention was at once drawn to the remarkable face and head, and there arrested. The dullest observer of human physiognomy would have seen at a glance that he was in the presence of a man of intensely strong and original individuality. The head was large and massive ; the forehead low, but beautifully arched, and set in an abundance of unkempt, iron-grey hair, whose straggling locks reached almost to his shoulders, and fringed his face like a mane. Save for a slight white whisker the face was clean shaven, its strongly-marked features thus standing out in clear, firm lines. The mouth was so resolute that it might have been pronounced harsh, had it not been for an occasional twitching smile that played about its corners.

But the most impressive feature of that rugged face was the eyes. They seemed at times to emit fire. Shining with intelligence and penetration from under the shaggy, over hanging brows, they appeared to pierce through and through whatever they rested upon. They were eyes beneath whose gaze the most arrogant would have been subdued to respect. " So," said the strange figure, as he stood at the doorway with hands thrust to the farthest depths of his trouser WILLIAM BLACKLOCK, JOURNALIST 20 pockets, and blowing clouds of smoke from a fresh clay pipe, "you fellows have done it now. li justice is done hereafter you'll have a specially uncomfortable place provided for you in the other world for what you've made me suffer on earth." " We're just finishing now, sir," said one of the reporters, all of whom had now become almost desperately intent on their work.

" We're somewhat short-handed because of Mr. Weldon 's absence." The rugged man growled, but did not reply. " What have you got here?" he asked, bending over a junior who was bestowing infinite care upon a short paragraph. "The annual meeting of the Sabbath Protection Society, sir," replied the junior, flushing and looking up nervously. " Lines — lines ! Put it into ten lines. We haven't room for more to-night. And what are you doing ? " addressing a stout, comfortable reporter in evening dress, who was puffing a fragrant cigar and writing leisurely, with an elegant toast-list lying in front of him. "The Academy banquet," rephed the stout man in a mellow voice; "it was first-rate." " The wine or the speech-making ? " asked the editor, with an almost imperceptible twinkle in his eyes. "Both," said the reporter, laying down his cigar, and beaming upon the company.

" Sir Francis Hedley made a very good speech." "And what did Francis say?" In a few ready, neat sentences the reporter gave a comprehensive summary of the speech of the evening. " I'd give that pretty fud ; but remember, every one of you, everything must be kept down to its lowest possible limits. I'm completely swamped. Don't give a line more than is absolutely necessary." Giving these orders in a voice that could be heard by BLACKLOCK SHOWS HIS METTLE 21 every one in the room, he moved over to the corner where Blacklock was sitting. " Oh, you're Mr. Blacklock ? I'm very glad you got out of that smash safe and sound. It's not often we have one of our own men to give a ' survivor's narrative.' Make it as long as you like, we'll find room for it whatever has to stand. Sit down, my son," he added kindly, Blacklock having risen at the first words addressed to him.

"Shad I confine myself, sir, to describing my own personal experiences as a passenger ? " Blacklock inquired. " Yes ; Weldon will see to the general account. But are you sure you are none the worse of the accident ? You are very pale." "There's nothing the matter with me, I think," said Blacklock bravely, though not altogether truthfudy. "I only feel very tired, and my head aches badly." He was struggling manfudy against the faintness that was graduady creeping over him. "If you feel quite wed go on with your dictation, but take care of yourself. What have we got here, Maclver ? " he asked, lifting a pde of manuscript from a desk, and turning to the nearest reporter. "A lot of miscedaneous paragraphs, sir." " Why, there's three-quarters of a column here, at least. This must be cut down." Swiftly his fingers ran over the sheets, and his brows contracted as he read, not without some strong expletives, the headings of the paragraphs.

" Cut these down without mercy," he said fiercely, tossing the bundle before the unhappy Maclver. Then he left the room by a door that communicated with an apartment where, behind a mountainous heap of Blue-books, a keen, hollow-eyed man was munching his supper while he trans- WILLIAM BLACKLOCLC, JOURNALIST 22 formed the Registrar-General's annual return of births, marriages, and deaths into a crisp, humorous social article, a style of work at which he was a past master. " Confound it ! " said one of the reporters ruefudy, when the door of the room closed, "there goes a fine descrip tive par. It took the best part of an hour and cigarettes innumerable to concoct. For pity's sake, Maclver, do leave something of it but the first and last sentences." "Brevity is the soul of wit, to-night, at all events," Maclver replied, as he dashed his pencil, with a great show of pretended ferocity, over sheet after sheet of the doomed paragraphs.

" There'd be more than you swearing when they open the paper to-morrow morning." " Who is the gentleman that was in the room just now ? " Blacklock inquired of his companion hi an undertone. " Don't you know your editor ? " the reporter exclaimed, raising his eyebrows. " That," said he, with much melo dramatic gesticulation, " is Mr. David Shenstone, editor-in chief of the Mercury — the wiliest angler, the best shot, the heaviest smoker, the foremost journalist, the cleverest man in the country ; and a right good fellow — when you know him, but" — The reporter stopped suddenly and nodded ominously. Then he cocked his right eye, pursed his lips, and, leaning forward on the table with his chin resting on his hands, regarded Blacklock with a look that seemed to signify, "And if you take my advice you wid make yourself acquainted with his ways at the earliest possible moment."