In Search of Treasure

“Let me introduce my young companion, Dr. Musgrave,” went on Locke. “He is Master Guy Fenwick. He comes here as the agent of Mr. John Saunders, of Bombay, the guardian of Vivian Bell.”

“Is this true?” asked the head master, bewildered and incredulous.

“Yes, sir,” answered Guy. “I came here to find out how the boy was treated, but I have seen for myself. I withdraw him from your school. He is no longer a pupil of yours!”

Vivian Bell’s expression changed at once. He looked overjoyed.

“Oh!” he said, “is this true?”

“Yes,” answered Guy, putting his hand caressingly on the boy’s shoulder. “I shall take you away with me.”

Dr. Musgrave, though still shaking with anger, was not wholly destitute of prudence.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “before anything is decided upon, I wish to explain that this boy has committed a daring act of rebellion, an act which merits summary punishment.”

Vivian looked up nervously into Guy’s face, but the expression he saw there reassured him.

“Yes, sir; he ran away,” said August Locke, “and any boy would be justified in running away under the circumstances.”

“Sir,” said Dr. Musgrave, striving to recover some of his lost dignity, “in a school like this there must be discipline.”

“Yes, but not brutality.”

“You have evidently been misinformed as to the character of my discipline. It is firm, but parental.”

“Dr. Musgrave,” retorted August Locke, with a disgust which he could not conceal, “you forget that I was a former pupil of yours. Of all the abominable tyrants to be found in English schools, I think you carry off the palm.”

“I had hoped, Mr. Locke—I remember you now—that your maturer judgment would have enabled you to understand the reason of my occasional severity. My own conscience justifies me in what I have done.”

“Then you have a peculiar conscience; that is all I have to say.”

“If this boy—as I can hardly believe—represents Bell’s guardian, I will describe to him the flagrant acts of disobedience of which his ward has been guilty. Surely he will not justify a pupil in running away from his school!”

“Under the circumstances I do, sir.”

“I trust you will leave Bell here till the end of the term, four weeks hence.”

Vivian Bell looked alarmed.

“I must decline to do so, Dr. Musgrave.”

“I shall, under the rules of the school, charge to the end of the term.”

“You can do so, sir, but I shall withdraw Vivian to-day.”

“I claim the right, before he leaves, to inflict punishment for the act of rebellion of which he has been guilty.”

“So it would afford you satisfaction to flog him, Dr. Musgrave?” said August Locke, with a sarcastic smile.

“No, sir. I am always pained when I have to chastise a pupil, but it is necessary to the maintenance of my authority over the other boys that Bell’s offense should not go unpunished.”

“Your authority will have to take care of itself, Dr. Musgrave. You are fortunate that I do not punish you for your past brutality!”

“Mr. Locke, a higher-handed outrage was never perpetrated than your interference with my authority, and your assault upon myself.

“You are quite welcome to take any view of it you choose. Guy, I think you ought to take immediate steps toward the withdrawal of your young ward.”

“Dr. Musgrave, will you direct that my ward’s trunk be packed, and all made ready for his departure? When this is done I will settle your bill.”

“I protest once more against your remarkable proceedings. I shall write to Mr. Saunders and complain of them.”

“You are at liberty to do so. In the meanwhile, please have the boy’s clothes packed.”

The humiliation of Dr. Musgrave was the greater because nearly all his pupils had been witnesses of it. Though they had not manifested their feelings in any way, there was not one, except Simon, his son, who was not rejoiced when they saw the tables turned upon their tyrannical teacher.

Dr. Musgrave hesitated, but Guy’s bold, resolute bearing convinced him that opposition would be useless.

If he could have retained Vivian Bell to the end of the term he would have had an opportunity to make him suffer, and thus obtained some satisfaction; but Guy saw through his scheme, and resolutely vetoed it. He would not allow Vivian to remain an hour longer, but declared his intention of taking him away with him at once.

When the doctor went inside to give orders about packing Vivian’s trunk, Jim Rawdon went up to Guy and shook hands with him.

“You are a brave boy,” he said. “I never enjoyed myself more than I have in the last half hour. It was fun to see the doctor under the lash.”

“I wish you could leave the school, too,” said Guy.

“I shall soon. I am in no danger of a flogging, though. The doctor doesn’t dare to flog me.”

CHAPTER XVI

GUY FINISHES UP HIS BUSINESS IN LONDON

When Vivian Bell found himself on a railroad train, in the company of his new friends, bound for London, he was like one from whom a heavy burden had been lifted. He became light-hearted and lively.

“I am so happy,” he said, impulsively.

“I am afraid you have never been very happy at the school,” returned Guy.

“No, never! Dr. Musgrave has always been unkind to me,” said Vivian, with a shudder.

“He would probably have punished you very severely if we had not made our appearance.”

“He would have almost killed me. He was frightfully angry at my running away. How strong your friend is,” he added, looking at August Locke admiringly.

August smiled. He was human, and he was pleased with the compliment.

“I think I was too much for the doctor,” he said, “but the time was when he had the advantage of me. I have been flogged more than once in my schooldays; but I fancy I deserved it more than you. You don’t look to me like a very bad boy.”

“The doctor said I was, but indeed I tried to do my duty. Yet he was always flogging me.”

“Rawdon was your friend, was he not?”

“Yes; he was my only friend. He was always ready to stand up for me.”

“The doctor never flogged him?”

“No; I don’t see why, for he wasn’t a model boy, though he was a good friend to me.”

“He seemed like a trump. I’m sorry I didn’t tip him. I say, Guy, I mean to send him a couple of guineas, just to show my appreciation of his pluck and friendship for your ward.”

“No; it is I who ought to do that.”

“We’ll do it together.”

For a few days Guy kept Vivian with him at the hotel. He set himself to explore London, visiting all the noted places usually sought by strangers, and this the boy thoroughly enjoyed.

Guy determined to give him some pleasure after his long thraldom at school.

On the sixth day, in walking up the Strand, he and Vivian were surprised to meet Jim Rawdon.

Rawdon saw them first.

“Hallo, you two! I was in hopes to meet you,” he said.

“But how do you happen to be in London?” asked Guy. “You haven’t run away from school, have you?”

“Not exactly; but it amounts to the same thing, except that my father is satisfied with my leaving.”

“Tell me all about it.”

“Well, it was this way. After you took Bell away the doctor was fearfully cross. He was ashamed to think we boys had seen his downfall, and as you were not there he vented his anger on us. There were never so many boys flogged in the same length of time before.”

“Did you receive the money Mr. Locke and myself sent you?”

“Yes, and it got me into trouble. You see, the doctor heard of it, and it set him to thinking. Finally he found out, by the help of that sneaking son of his, that I had encouraged Bell to run away. He was almost beside himself with anger, and made up his mind to do what he had never done before; that is, give me a flogging.”

“I hope he didn’t do it,” said Guy, hastily.

“Listen, and I will tell you all about it. He summoned me before the whole school, and made a short speech. ‘James Rawdon,’ he said, ‘I have spared you heretofore on account of your excellent father, but I find that you aided and abetted your schoolmate Bell to run away in defiance of my rightful authority. Did you, or did you not?’

“‘I did,’ I answered. ‘The boy was so brutally treated that he had good reason to run away.’

“‘I never heard such insolence!’ roared the doctor, his eyes blazing. ‘Take off your jacket!’

“‘Thank you, sir,’ I replied, ‘I’d rather keep it on.’

“He lost all control of himself then, and sprang for me with the whip. My father had told me never to submit to a flogging, so I grabbed for the whip, and we had a struggle for it.

“I managed to break his spectacles, and convinced him that I was pretty strong for a boy. But what frightened him most was this—I pulled out a toy pistol from my pocket, and the doctor became pale as a sheet.

“‘Put that down, sir!’ he cried. ‘I will dispose of your case to-morrow!’

“That was all I wanted. That very evening I walked to the station and took the cars for London, buying my ticket with the money you sent me. When I told my father what led me to leave the school he told me I had done right, and he sent the doctor a letter which he won’t be very glad to read.”

“Dr. Musgrave seems to be a very unwise man,” said Guy.

“All the boys are getting dissatisfied,” rejoined Rawdon. “I know four who have written to their fathers to take them away. Dr. Musgrave will soon find himself deserted.”

On this point we will anticipate matters a little by saying that Rawdon’s statement proved prophetic. Dr. Musgrave’s temper was so aggravated by what had occurred that he increased his severity to such an extent as to induce a rebellion of the pupils.

The directors were finally obliged to take cognizance of the complaints made by parents, and the result was that Dr. Musgrave was removed from the post of head master. He found it impossible to get another position, and was compelled to live, or attempt to live, on the income of a small sum which he had been able to accumulate in his twenty years’ service.

His successor was a man of high scholarship and enlightened views, who had assisted Dr. Arnold at Rugby School.

Under his charge the school regained its lost popularity. For his humiliation Dr. Musgrave had only himself to thank, but it is doubtful if he fully realized it.

A problem now presented itself to Guy, in reference to his ward. What should he do with him?

As the boy’s education was incomplete, it seemed desirable that it should be continued. Moreover, in his future plans Guy felt that Vivian’s company would hamper him, besides increasing his responsibility.

Jim Rawdon came to his rescue.

One morning he called at the hotel where Guy was living, and said: “Why can’t you let Bell go to school with me?”

“Where are you going?” asked Guy.

“My father will send me to a clergyman who takes but six scholars, and who is highly recommended. He has two vacancies, so there is room for Bell and myself.”

“Please give me the clergyman’s name, and I will look the matter up.”

Rawdon did so.

Guy heard, upon inquiry, such good accounts of the teacher recommended that he decided to send Vivian to him, especially as he found that his young ward was in favor of the plan.

This relieved him, and left him ready to carry out any instructions he might receive from his employer in Bombay.

It was not long before these instructions came. Going one morning to the banking house, he found a letter from Mr. Saunders.

A part of it ran thus:

I presume you have visited Milton School, and inquired into the charges brought by my ward Vivian Bell against the head master. If the boy is really ill treated, have no hesitation in removing him. I am not willing that my old friend’s son should be cruelly used. Of my own knowledge I know nothing of Dr. Musgrave, but you will have no difficulty in forming a correct judgment as to his character and methods.

I leave it to your discretion to select another school for Vivian, unless the boy’s health should require a journey, in which case you may take him with you to America.

This leads me to say that certain matters which I will detail to you in a note of instruction, I wish to have you discuss with my New York agent, Gilbert Frazer, whose address you have. This will make it necessary for you to make a brief visit to New York.

I now come to the matter of the pirates’ treasure, which, according to the papers you showed me, is probably concealed on one of the Agalegas Islands. When you first mentioned the matter to me I thought little of it. So many stories are extant about buried treasure, that I was disposed to think this might be entitled to little consideration. But further reflections have led me to think that the treasure may really have an existence.

I therefore authorize you to communicate with your old acquaintance, Captain Grover, of the Osprey, with a view to engaging his services on his next trip, in a search for the island. That nothing may interfere with this object, he may report to my agent, Mr. Frazer, who will provide him with a cargo consigned to me. The search for the island will occasion delay, but of this I shall not complain, though another party undoubtedly would.

I send you a letter of credit addressed to Mr. Frazer, who will provide you with such funds as you need.

Yours truly,John Saunders.

A memorandum of instructions accompanied this letter.

CHAPTER XVII

HOW THINGS WENT ON IN BAYPORT

Guy was pleased with the prospect of a return to America, especially as it was but for a short time. He would not have liked to feel that his journeyings were over, and he was to go back there permanently.

He had been some months away from his home in Bayport, and during this time he had not heard anything from his father or the friends he left behind.

He felt that he had been remarkably successful. He left Bayport a raw boy, and now, after six months, he represented a wealthy merchant in Bombay, was worth a considerable sum in money, and had a prospect of continued employment at a good salary.

He had not thought much of it till now, but as the day of his sailing for New York approached he began to be anxious about his father’s health. He also troubled himself lest rumors might have come to him about disaffection in the parish, and the schemes of Deacon Crane to oust him from the position he had so long and so honorably held, and to put in his place a younger man.

While Guy is on the Atlantic, speeding for home on the good steamer Etruria, we will precede him and let the reader know how matters are going on in Bayport.

Deacon Crane had gathered at his house three or four members of the church one Thursday evening, and was seeking to bring them over to his views on parish matters.

“I tell you what, Brother Ainsworth,” said he, addressing the village storekeeper, “it’s time we had a change in the minister. Mr. Fenwick is behind the times. He isn’t a hustler. Why, the parish is at a standstill. There are not more members than there were five years ago.”

“That may be, Deacon Crane, but Bayport itself has been at a standstill. I don’t believe the population has increased twenty-five in those five years.”

“Mebbe not, mebbe not; but the parson is feeding us on husks instead of rich spiritual food.”

“I think you are prejudiced, Deacon Crane,” said Jackson Butler, a farmer, and one of the parish committee. “Mr. Fenwick is an able man, and none of the ministers he exchanges with gives us a better sermon than he. One of my friends from New Bedford attended church with me last Sunday, and expressed himself as highly edified with our minister’s sermon.”

“I apprehend,” said the deacon, “that it is more important that he should please the members of his own flock than the stray sheep who attend church occasionally from other folds.”

“Still the verdict of an intelligent outsider carries weight.”

“I tell you I want a change,” said the deacon, with emphasis. “I want some bright, young man that’ll make a stir.”

“Do you think there are many that feel that way, deacon?”

“Not a doubt of it.”

“Who, for instance?”

“Well,” said the deacon, after a pause, “Mr. Bucklin, for instance.”

“Bucklin seldom goes to church, and last year he contributed but five dollars toward the minister’s salary.”

“Exactly so. Get a young man, and Bucklin would attend regularly, and pay a larger sum toward the church expenses.”

“He might double his subscription, but that would not amount to much,” said Mr. Ainsworth. “Now I pay fifty dollars, and I think I have a larger claim to consideration than Silas Bucklin.”

“To be sure, to be sure! But we want to put aside our own preferences and consult for the general good.”

“Do you do that, Deacon Crane?” asked Mr. Ainsworth, pointedly.

“Yes, sir! yes, sir!”

“You are prejudiced against the minister.”

“No, sir; I am only considering what will be for the good of the parish.”

“You object, then, to the minister’s sermons? Is that all?”

“No, Brother Ainsworth. I object to Mr. Fenwick as a family man.”

“That’s something new. What is your objection?”

“Well, you see, he’s let his son Guy go off on a wildgoose chase to the other end of the world. Instead of keeping him at home to complete his education, or go into a store, he’s let him sail to India with Captain Grover.”

“That reminds me,” said Enoch Slade, the village carpenter. “Captain Grover arrived home yesterday.”

“Then where is Guy Fenwick? Nothing has been seen of him in the village.”

“He didn’t come home with the captain.”

“Didn’t come home?” repeated Deacon Crane, in amazement. “Where is he?”

“He stayed in Bombay. I believe he got something to do there.”

“Well, that beats all I ever heard,” said the deacon, severely. “It shows just what sort of a bringing up the boy has had. The minister ought to have known better than to have let him leave home. Guy was always self-willed. My son Noah never liked him.”

This didn’t impress the deacon’s visitors as much as he anticipated, for Noah Crane was by no means an object of admiration in the village. He was generally considered sly and mean, while Guy was a universal favorite.

“I always liked Guy, myself,” said Mr. Ainsworth. “He is a good scholar and a good boy. I do hope he will come out all right.”

“It ain’t hardly to be expected, Brother Ainsworth. The boy has always had his own way. You wouldn’t catch me letting my Noah go off to the other end of the world.”

“What did Captain Grover think of Guy remaining behind?” asked Mr. Ainsworth.

“He thought it was a good plan. Guy had a position with a leading English merchant in that city.”

“You’ll see him coming home before the mast as a common sailor, mark my words,” said the deacon. “As I was saying, the minister ought to set a good example to his people in the way of family discipline; but you see what he’s done. Suppose we all followed his example?”

“I think Guy will come out all right,” observed Enoch Slade.

“I don’t.”

“What would you have done with him?”

“I’d have put him into a store, or had him learn a trade; that’s what I would have done.”

“Mr. Fenwick was anxious to have him go to college,” suggested Enoch Slade.

“What was the objection?”

“He couldn’t afford it. You know Mr. Fenwick’s salary is only a thousand dollars a year, and he has an aged aunt whom he helps. So it was quite impossible for him to afford the expense.”

“All the more reason for keeping Guy at home and setting him to work. Now if I chose to send Noah to college, I could afford it,” added the deacon, proudly.

“Why don’t you do it, then?” asked Mr. Ainsworth.

“Noah doesn’t care to go. He wants to be a business man.”

“I wouldn’t give him a place in my store,” thought Ainsworth, “if he would work for nothing.”

Of course he didn’t say this.

On the whole, Deacon Crane didn’t find as much sympathy as he expected in his opposition to the minister, but he succeeded in converting half a dozen heads of families to his views. They were not persons of much importance, but, instigated by the deacon, they talked a good deal, and managed to convey the impression that there was really considerable dissatisfaction with Mr. Fenwick.

Finally, Deacon Crane thought the time had come to call upon the minister, and let him know how matters stood, or rather how he wished matters to stand.

So one evening he took his cane, and made his way to the parsonage.

Mr. Fenwick was at work upon his sermon for the coming Sunday, but he laid down his pen and greeted the deacon cordially.

“I hear that your son hasn’t come home on the Osprey, Brother Fenwick,” the deacon began.

“No. It’s a disappointment to me. I have missed him sadly.”

“It seems to me it was a very risky thing to let him go off so far.”

“He was very anxious to go, and I thought it might be an education to him. I would like, myself, to see more of the great world.”

“Of course that’s one way to look at it, but there ain’t many boys that can be trusted so far away. I was amazed at his not coming home. What does the captain say?”

“He says that Guy made a good friend, and he is earning enough to pay his expenses.”

“Then you approve of his staying?”

“I hardly know what to think. Guy is a good boy, and I think he can be trusted.”

Deacon Crane coughed.

A cough is very significant sometimes. The deacon’s cough indicated incredulity of a very decided character.

“Mebbe, mebbe,” he said; “but that isn’t the way I would have managed with my boy.”

“What would have been your course?” asked Mr. Fenwick, mildly.

“I would have set Guy to work. He is old enough to be a help to you.”

“He is earning his living.”

“True, if he keeps his place. Suppose he gets discharged?”

“The captain says that is not likely.”

“Mebbe, mebbe; but I didn’t come here to discuss your son, parson. I have a weightier matter to speak of.”

“Go on, Brother Crane, I am ready to listen to you.”

CHAPTER XVIII

WILY DEACON CRANE

“It’s a delicate matter,” said Deacon Crane, coughing slightly. “I’d rather some other brother would have taken it off my hands, but duty is duty, and it isn’t right to shirk it.”

“True, Brother Crane,” said the minister, but he looked puzzled. He had no idea what the deacon was driving at.

“Do you think, parson, the parish is progressin’ as it should? Do you think the people are as much interested in religion as they’d ought to be?”

“Is there any parish of which that can be said, Brother Crane?”

“Well, perhaps not; but it seems to me there’s a good deal of spiritooal indifference in the church to-day.”

“More than there used to be?”

“That’s the point I am comin’ to. To my mind the congregation is gettin’ less and less spiritooally-minded.”

“I am very sorry if this is the case. I had not noticed it. The congregations keep up very well, and the people are attentive to the services.”

“Mebbe, mebbe; they’d appear to be so out of respect for you, parson; but as I move about the village, of course I hear what’s said.”

“Admitting that things are as you say, what remedy do you suggest?”

“That’s the p’int! That’s the p’int I was comin’ at; but I don’t hardly like to answer that question.”

“Why not?” asked the minister, innocently.

“Because it might hurt your feelin’s, parson.”

“I will not allow my feelings to stand in the way, so be kind enough to answer the question frankly and candidly.”

“Then, if I must say it,” replied the deacon, watching under his shaggy eyebrows to see what effect his words would have upon Mr. Fenwick, “if I must say it, some of the people are sayin’ it might be well for the parish to have a younger minister!”

Mr. Fenwick started as if he had been struck. He was utterly unprepared for this communication. He had lived among his people for twenty years, and no thought of separation had come to him.

He turned pale, and endeavored to stifle his emotion.

“I—I was not prepared for this, Deacon Crane,” he said. “Are the people really getting tired of me?” he added, with a tremor in his voice.

“Of course there are some of us that stand by you, parson; for instance, myself and Mrs. Crane. But I regret to say that some of the younger people are gettin’ uneasy, and think that a change might be for the benefit of the parish.”