The School Friends: or, Nothing New

In those days a brief time only was allowed between sentence and execution. The three other prisoners knew that they had no hope of escaping, and Arthur felt it his duty to warn Marwood that the Government were so determined to put an end to the smuggler’s traffic, and to punish all who fell into their hands, that he must not entertain much expectation of being reprieved.

“I care not for my life; but of this crime, as I have always said, I am innocent, and would die a thousand deaths rather than suffer for it,” he answered. “And tell me, sir, who was that lawyer that appeared against me. I heard his name; it is one I once well knew.”

“He is a barrister of high talent, the eldest son of the murdered man.”

The prisoner, who was now in the condemned cell, lifted his manacled hands, exclaiming, involuntarily it seemed —

“My brother appear against me! God have mercy on him, for through him I have been unjustly condemned. As there is a God in heaven, whom I have so often blasphemed, I tell you again that I am guiltless of the crime for which I am condemned!”

Arthur was too much agitated to speak for a moment.

“You the brother of Hugh Maitland?” he exclaimed, “I am his brother. We had but one other brother, Gilbert, who lost his life when a mere lad; so we believed, and long mourned him as dead.”

“Arthur! Arthur!” exclaimed Gilbert, for he was indeed the prisoner. “I recognise your features, although I had not till now done so. Can you believe me guilty of our father’s death? I confess to countless crimes, but of that I am innocent.”

Arthur at length recovered himself. From several circumstances which Gilbert brought to his memory, he was thoroughly convinced that he was indeed his brother.

“I before hoped that you might escape death, and now that I am convinced that you are innocent, I must use every exertion to prevent the risk of the reprieve not reaching Winchester in time to stay your execution.”

Arthur hastened away in search of Hugh, who was on the point of starting for London. The calm, self-confident barrister sunk almost fainting into a chair when he heard Arthur’s account. He, however, soon recovered his self-possession.

“If Gilbert is innocent, I am guilty of fratricide, and shall have contributed to bring disgrace on our family!” he exclaimed.

Together they set out for London. A reprieve, which had hitherto been refused, was granted.

It was on the very morning that the execution of the prisoners was to take place. An accident might delay them. It was daylight before they reached the gaol. They found the Governor in a state of agitation, for one of the prisoners had escaped. He was greatly relieved on finding that it was the man for whom they had brought a reprieve.

“One difficulty is got over,” he observed; “but I should have had to keep him here, for he and another were accused, by that fellow who turned king’s evidence, and who hopes to get the promised reward, of being implicated in Bursey’s murder.”

The two brothers looked at each other. Hugh could scarcely restrain his feelings; a sense of bitter shame predominated, however, for the disgrace he had hoped to escape might still fall on his family. Arthur earnestly prayed that the information might be false, and that his unhappy brother was innocent. The prisoner was supposed to have made his way to Southampton, and to have escaped on board a foreign-bound ship.

Several months passed away; it was the autumn. Arthur had gone to spend some days with Mary and her husband. He had ridden over to call on some friends at Christchurch. A heavy equinoctial gale was blowing from the south-west. As he was returning along the coast, wishing to obtain a view of the stormy sea, now covered with foaming waves, he observed a large lugger, under a press of sail, standing towards the shore. A number of people were collected on the beach, and he guessed, from the light waggons and horses of which he had caught sight, that preparations were being made for running a cargo of smuggled goods, then often done in open day, the Revenue officers being either enticed away or bribed not to interfere.

The danger a vessel must encounter venturing in at that time appeared fearfully great. He could not bring himself to leave the spot. The reason of the lugger’s attempting the hazardous experiment, however, was evident. In the offing appeared a sloop-of-war, and one, he knew, had been sent to cruise after smugglers. From remarks he overheard, he discovered that the lugger was the Saucy Sally, commanded by Slippery Rogers. Every moment the gale was increasing, and the surf came rolling with greater and greater force upon the beach. Those on shore threw up a signal to show that landing was impossible, but the fearless crew of the lugger pushed madly on. One instant she appeared with her broad spread of canvas swelling to the gale; the next, surrounded by the fierce waves dashing up madly around her, she lay shattered to fragments on the shingly beach, her crew struggling vainly in the surf. Some few amid the wreck, and casks and bales, which formed her cargo, were washed on shore, but the greater number were carried out far beyond human reach by the receding waves. Of those who were saved, several were fearfully injured, some breathed their last as they were dragged out of the water. Arthur offered that assistance which the rough men were little able to afford. He had sent off for a surgeon, and having attended to two of the sufferers, hastened to the side of a third, who seemed to have received some severe injuries. As he knelt down he recognised the countenance of his unhappy brother Gilbert, who, opening his eyes, fixed them on his face.

“We obtained a reprieve,” said Arthur. “Why did you escape? you knew I had gone to obtain it.”

“I did not trust to the king’s mercy; and as I had the opportunity, I determined to avail myself of it,” answered Gilbert in a feeble voice.

“Our king is a merciful sovereign; he has ever shown a readiness to forgive when his sense of justice will allow him,” answered Arthur. “But oh! how much more merciful is our Father in heaven; and His justice having been amply satisfied by the willing sacrifice of His dear Son, who died for sinners, He is abundantly ready to forgive the sinner who trusts to that full atonement made for his sins! I speak thus, dear Gilbert, for I fear your time on earth is short.”

“I know it is,” answered Gilbert. “Oh! continue to speak as you have begun. I knew myself to be a guilty, outcast sinner before I left the prison. What you had said to me sunk into my heart. It was for your sake and for Hugh’s more than my own that I escaped; and I came back in the lugger resolved not to participate in the profits of the enterprise.”

Arthur sighed.

“Those who associate with evil-doers share in their doings,” he was compelled to remark, but he dwelt not on that subject.

“My dear brother,” he continued, “we are all sinners in the sight of a pure and holy God, who cannot look upon iniquity; but He in His love and mercy has provided a fountain in which all our sins, however black, however foul, can be washed away; and He tells us in His Word that though they be red like crimson, they shall become as white as snow, and though they be as scarlet, they become as wool – that He will put them as far from us as the east is from the west. To that fountain which flowed from the side of Jesus when He hung on the cross, offering himself up as a full and sufficient sacrifice in God’s sight for the sins of all who trust in Him, let me urge you to turn your eyes; believe in that loving Saviour that He died for you, as well as for other sinners; that His heart yearns toward you; that He desires you to come to Him and be saved.”

“I remember, Arthur, that you said this to me in prison; but I hardened my heart. I was strong and well, and feared not death,” answered Gilbert, with a deep sigh. “I can do nothing to merit heaven – it’s too late now, it’s too late.”

“It is never too late,” exclaimed Arthur. “The arms of Jesus are ever ready to receive all who come to Him in simple faith, trusting to His merits alone, and not to any merits of their own, or anything they ever can do to deserve His favour; banish such a thought from your mind. By His free grace He gives us salvation: remember the thief on the cross; he simply turned his dying eye on his crucified Lord, acknowledging that He was the Son of God, and the same answer Jesus gave to him He will give to you if you believe on Him. Remember, too, how the Israelites in the wilderness, bitten by the fiery serpents, were told to look on the serpent of brass, the emblem of healing held up by Moses, and no sooner did they look than they were healed. How merciful, how loving, how gracious, is our Father in heaven, who, knowing the frailty of poor human beings, has thus provided so simple, so easy, and yet so all-sufficient a means by which they may be saved.”

Arthur, animated by love for his brother’s soul, continued thus to plead with him, for he dreaded lest he might die in the attempt to move him. He would have pleaded, however, in the same way with any other sufferer, for he knew the value of human souls.

At length several of the people assembled round him, and charitably offered to convey the injured man to a cottage at some little distance from the beach.

“Let me be taken there,” whispered Gilbert; “there is another I should wish to see, to ask her forgiveness for all the pain and sorrow I have caused her, but do not leave me.”

A litter was speedily formed with a couple of spars and a piece of sail, and Gilbert being placed on it, four fishermen conveyed him towards the cottage, Arthur walking by his side, still holding his hand. The men seeing that Arthur was a clergyman, were not surprised at the attention he paid to the dying man, nor did they suspect the relationship.

“I am praying for you,” whispered Arthur; “and oh, let me entreat you to pray for yourself.”

“I am trying to do so, but I find it hard. My faith is weak – too weak I fear to avail me,” gasped the dying man.

“Though it be but like a grain of mustard seed, He has promised that it shall remove mountains,” answered Arthur.

The cottage, happily the abode of Christian people, was reached. The sufferer was placed on a bed prepared for him by the good woman of the house, and Arthur immediately sent off a messenger to summon Mary and her husband, as well as a surgeon, in the hopes that his skill might benefit his brother. Anxiously he watched the livelong night by the side of Arthur’s couch, and it was with joy unspeakable that towards morning he heard him whisper, “God has answered my prayer; I believe that His Son Jesus Christ died for me, the just for the unjust, and that through His merits my numberless sins are put away.” Soon afterwards the surgeon arrived. After examining Gilbert, he took Arthur aside. “The injuries the poor fellow has received are such as I fear no human skill can remedy. I will do my best, but I can give no hopes of his recovery; he is a fitter subject for your care than mine, though these smugglers are such ruffians that I do not suppose you will be able to do much with him.”

“We are all by nature rebels to God,” answered Arthur, endeavouring to conceal his feelings. “I will, as you advise, remain with the poor man, and follow the directions you give.”

The surgeon told Arthur what he advised and took his departure, and Arthur hastened back to his brother. Mary and her husband arrived early in the morning. Gilbert, though too weak to speak, knew his sister, and showed by signs that he understood what she said. He pressed her hand, and a smile lighted up his countenance when she assured him that she had never ceased to pray for him, and to feel the same affection for him as of yore.

“Those prayers have been answered, have they not?” said Arthur bending over his brother, and he repeated the last words Gilbert had uttered, “I believe that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.” Again a bright look passed across Gilbert’s countenance, and holding the hands of the loving ones kneeling by his side, his spirit passed away. One of his last requests had been that he might be buried with his hapless companions who had been rescued from the waves. It was complied with, and no one besides those who were with him at his death knew that the shipwrecked smuggler was Gilbert Maitland.

Oh that the young could see the fearful termination of the broad road they are tempted by Satan to follow, ere they take the first downward step along it!

The End

Story 4-Chapter I.

STORY IV – THE IVORY TRADER; A TALE OF AFRICA

To the north of the Cape of Good Hope Colony, beyond the Great Orange River, an extensive level region exists, known as the Kalahara Desert. Here no running streams are found to fertilise the plain, and often for miles and miles together, not a well nor pool is to be discovered, from which the weary traveller can quench his burning thirst. Yet destitute as it is of water, it is in many parts covered with grass, and an immense variety of creeping plants; while in some places large patches of bushes, and even trees, find nourishment in the seeming arid soil, and countless multitudes of wild animals, especially those which require but little water, or can go many days together without drinking, roam over its trackless wilds.

This region passed, a fertile country is found, thickly populated by dark-skinned tribes, who till of late years have had no intercourse with white men. Here an almost countless number of rivers and streams are found, some flowing into the mighty Zambesi, and others into Lake Ngami.

Notwithstanding the dangers which must be encountered in crossing the vast Kalahara Desert, from the scarcity of water, the intense heat, the wild beasts, the savage people who inhabit its borders, and more than all, from the attacks of the Tsetse fly, whose poisonous bite speedily destroys cattle and horses, white traders from the colony occasionally traverse it, for the purpose of obtaining ivory from the natives.

A tilted waggon belonging to one of these traders, dragged by a span of fourteen oxen, was slowly moving across the wide-extending plain. On the box sat a Hottentot driver, his whip in hand, with lash of prodigious length, reaching even to the leading animals shouting out at the same time strange sounds to urge them on. A dozen dark-skinned men, some clad in jacket and trousers, and broad-brimmed hats, but others having merely a cloth or kilt round their loins, moved along by the side of the waggon. A few were seated on oxen, and the rest marched on foot, mostly with arms in their hands. Among those on foot was a young lad, whose dark skin showed that he was an African, though his features had somewhat of the Asiatic character. He was dressed more in the English fashion than the other black men, though his firm step and independent air proved that young Kibo was well accustomed to traverse the desert wilds. Ahead of the caravan stalked, with spear in hand, the Bechuana guide Masiko, whose people inhabit the region to the south of the desert, over all parts of which, from his earliest youth, he had wandered. His only garment was a cotton scarf, or plaid of a dark colour, thrown over his shoulders and wound round his waist, so as to form a kilt reaching to his knees, his woolly head and his feet being without covering. Two horses without saddles followed the waggon, secured to it by thongs of hide, and several spare oxen kept pace with the vehicle, ready to supply the places of any of the team which might knock up on the road.

Two white persons mounted on strong horses brought up the rear of the caravan. One Mr Robert Vincent, the owner of the waggon and its varied contents, was a strongly-built man of middle age, his countenance well tanned by African suns; the other a lad of about fifteen years of age apparently, who, from his slightly-built figure, looked scarcely capable of enduring the fatigues, of the journey before him.

The bright sun shining down from the cloudless sky shed a peculiar glare over the whole scene, the atmosphere quivering with heat. Here and there a few bushes rose above the surface, and broke the ocean-like horizon; but so exactly did they resemble one another, that to even the well-practised eye of the trader, they were useless as landmarks to direct his course. He had, therefore, entirely to depend on the guidance of Masiko, to conduct the caravan to the different water-holes and wells on the road across the desert.

Already both men and beasts were suffering greatly from thirst, for at the last halting-place no water had been obtained, and there was a fear that the oxen would break down altogether, unless they should soon reach the wells which the guide assured him would be found ahead.

“Had I supposed we should have found water so scarce on this route, I would have left you at Mr Warden’s station till my return, Martin,” observed Mr Vincent to the lad by his side. “But I wanted to give you an insight into the dealing of the natives, for which no small amount of experience is required, that you may be able to help me in my business, and be competent in a few years to take charge of a trading expedition yourself.”

“I shall be very glad if I can be of assistance to you, father,” answered Martin. “I already feel myself the better for the dry air of the desert. I was very happy with Mr Warden, and should have been content to remain and help him and his wife in the numerous duties they have to perform.”

“He is a good man, no doubt, Martin,” observed the trader; “but his is not a money-making calling, and it is not one I should wish you to follow.”

“If you had not wanted me to help you, father, from what I learned and saw while I was with Mr Warden, I would rather have become a missionary like him than be of any other profession,” answered young Martin.

“Oh! you must put such foolish ideas out of your head, Martin. It is very well for those who are paid for it, and are not fit for anything better, but I want my son to be a man of the world, to make money, and to become some day one of the leading merchants of Cape Town.”

Young Martin made no reply. On his father’s previous journey from the Cape, Martin had accompanied him, but, unaccustomed to travelling, he had fallen sick, and had been left at the Missionary-station of Mr Warden. Though the trader looked upon the illness of his son as a great misfortune, young Martin had good reason soon to believe it the happiest event of his life. He there for the first time became practically acquainted with the glorious truths of the gospel: he learned that man is a sinner, and by nature a rebel against God, and that through the atonement and mediation of Jesus Christ can he alone become reconciled to Him.

This truth brought home to his own heart, he at once comprehended the importance of the efforts which Mr Warden, and the missionary-band engaged with him, were making to carry the gospel of love and mercy among the savage hordes by whom they were surrounded; he knew it to be the only means by which their natures could be changed, and they can become not only civilised members of society, but, what is of far more consequence, heirs of eternal life. He therefore, rejoicing in the blessings he had himself received, felt an earnest desire to engage in the glorious work of carrying the same blessings to the dark-skinned races of that land, long so deeply plunged in ignorance.

Though his health had been completely restored, he would therefore far rather have remained with the missionary than have taken the journey to which his father summoned him. But he had learned that obedience to parents is among the first duties of a Christian; and thus, after he had frankly expressed his wish to remain, when his father still desired his company, he had no longer hesitated to obey his summons.

He was accompanied by Kibo, the son of a chief of one of the tribes to the north of the desert, whom Mr Vincent purposed visiting. Kibo had been carried away from his home into slavery by the great Matabele leader Moselekatse, in one of his marauding expeditions against the territory inhabited by the lad’s tribe four or five years before this.

During a visit Mr Warden had paid to Moselekatse, he had seen young Kibo, then apparently on the point of death, and inducing the chief to give him his liberty, had carried him to the Missionary-station, where recovering, he was instructed in the truths of Christianity. The lad became a true and earnest convert, and his heart yearned to visit his parents and friends, and to tell them the good news he had heard. Mr Warden, believing him to be confirmed in the faith, had consented to his accompanying Martin, in the hopes that by his means his tribe might be induced to receive a missionary of the gospel among them.

The trader and his son rode on for some time in silence, the former indeed was beginning to feel too anxious about the chances of finding water at the end of the day’s journey to talk much. Already many hours had passed since they had left the last water-holes. Although there was still a sufficient supply in the leathern bottles carried in the waggon to prevent them and their men from feeling much inconvenience from thirst, both horses and oxen were already suffering from want of the moisture so necessary to enable them to swallow their food. They had stopped as usual during the heat of the day; but though there was an abundance of grass, it was so dry that it crumbled in the hand, and the poor animals as they chewed it turned it about in their mouths, in a vain endeavour to get it down their throats.

Robert Vincent had ordered his men to inspan or harness the cattle at an earlier hour than usual, hoping by pushing on to gain the promised pool before nightfall; but the oxen, already fatigued by their previous long journey, were unable to move as fast as usual, in spite of all the efforts of their driver.

The trader, at length losing patience, rode on by the side of the guide, and inquired when they were to reach the pool he had spoken of.

“Not till after the sun has sunk far beyond yonder distant line, unless the oxen move faster than they are now doing,” answered the guide, pointing to the western horizon.

The trader shouted to the driver. Again and again he made his huge whip crack, as he struck his team in succession, but without effect; nothing would induce the poor animals to hasten their steps.

“I am much inclined to ride forward, and try and find out the wells myself,” said Mr Vincent to his son. “I am not quite sure that our guide is not playing us false. If I thought so, I would shoot him through the head. It is wiser to trust to one’s own sagacity than to a treacherous guide.”

“O father! do not use violence,” exclaimed Martin. “Gentle words and kindness will have more effect in keeping him faithful. I have no fear about him, for he has long been known to Mr Warden, who has perfect confidence in him.”

“Why do you think he should have confidence in him, Martin?” asked his father.

“Because, though he was once a fierce savage, he has become a faithful Christian, and as such would be ready to sacrifice his own life rather than risk ours when he has promised to serve us.”

“I am afraid the fellows are all much alike,” observed Mr Vincent. “The only way of making them faithful is not to pay them till the journey is over. I only hope he and young Kibo will answer your expectations. For my part, I have found the heathen black men as trustworthy as the whites.”

“Yes, father,” said Martin, “because in too many instances the whites are merely nominal Christians. Mr Warden has shown me the difference between a real and nominal Christian, and it is of the first I speak. All men are fallible, and even in them we cannot hope to find perfection, but still they can be trusted to do their best.”

“Well, well, Martin, when you know more of the world, perhaps you will change your opinion,” remarked the trader in an indifferent tone. “However, water must be found; and as we have still yearly an hour’s daylight, we may even yet reach it if we push on before dark.”

The trader and his son rode on, though their weary steeds did not move as fast as they wished.

“What is that?” exclaimed the elder Vincent, pointing to an object moving among the dry grass some distance ahead. “A lion; we must put a shot into him, or he will be paying the cattle a visit to-night.”

Spurring on his horse, he galloped forward, followed by Martin.