He favours you as a relation, that"s it, I"ve no doubt."
Digby made no reply, but he felt indignant, as he could not bear to have his uncle, whom he respected, spoken ill of.
By degrees Julian recovered his usual state of mind, and, as he did so, his fertile brain began to devise fresh schemes of mischief. Since his liberty had been curtailed he found them, however, much more difficult to carry out. It may seem strange that, after all the anxiety and inconvenience he had suffered in consequence of his last achievement, he should be eager to do something which was likely to produce the same results; but such is unfortunately too generally the case with evildoers. Unless some severe punishment follows they go on and on, committing the same evil again and again. Indeed, even punishment will not always deter people who have given themselves up to evil ways from continuing in them; and men have frequently been known, the very day after they have been released from prison, to have committed the very crime for which they have been confined. Reformation of heart and character is what is required, and this had not taken place with regard to Julian Langley.
"I"ve hit upon a capital idea, Digby," said he one day when the two were alone; "help me out with it."
"What is it?" asked his companion.
"I"ve been thinking what fun it would be to set all the fishing-boats out in the river adrift. How they would knock about each other, and how angry the boatmen would be."
"I should think they would be angry, indeed," answered Digby, stoutly.
"Fun is fun, but it seems to me that a great deal of harm might be done by what you propose. I"d advise you to give up the idea; I"ll have nothing to do with it."
"I thought you were a fellow of spirit, Digby," sneered Julian. "What great harm can there be in letting a few old fishermen"s boats knock together?"
"Why, they might get carried out to sea, and be lost altogether, and have their sides stove in, or holes made in their bottoms, or be sunk, and lose their oars and sails; indeed, I can fancy a great deal of damage might be done," said Digby. "I think that it would be very wrong and cruel to the poor fishermen."
"Oh, now I see you are going to take a leaf out of your uncle"s book, and to turn saint," sneered Julian. This was one of his most powerful expressions. He knew that Digby especially disliked being called a saint, and that he often confessed, as do many older people with equal thoughtlessness, that he did not set up for a saint. People seem not to consider, if they do not wish to become saints, what they really do desire to become. Certainly none but saints can inherit the glories of eternity; and unless they trust in the merits of One who can cleanse them from their sins, and make them saints, so that they may be presented spotless to the Father Almighty, from those glories they will be shut out.
Poor Digby winced under Julian"s sneer. "A saint; no, I am no saint, I hope, but I don"t want to injure the poor fishermen," he answered, firmly.
"Injure them! Who"s going to injure them?" exclaimed Julian, petulantly. "I"ve made up my mind to have my lark, and have it I will.
If any great harm comes I"m ready to bear it. You won"t peach upon me, I suppose?"
"No," answered Digby, indignantly. "I like fun as much as you; and if I saw the fun I"d do it willingly."
Julian thought that Digby was relenting, and still pressed the matter, but in vain. "Well, if you won"t go I must get somebody else. I know a fellow who will help, though none of the sneaks here will join me," said Julian, walking away.
Digby felt satisfied that he had done right, still he did not like to let Julian go away, and have his fun by himself.
The latter young gentleman went into the garden, and disappeared in the shrubbery. In spite of the prohibition still existing against his going out alone, he jumped over the wall, and betook himself to the river side. He had sc.r.a.ped acquaintance with a lad of his own age, the son of a small innkeeper, who had been a smuggler, and was still, it was suspected, intimately connected with smugglers.
d.i.c.k Owlett was certainly not a fit a.s.sociate for the son of the Honorable Mr Langley; but vice more than anything else creates incongruous companionships. Young Owlett was ready to do anything Julian proposed, because he fancied that he might easily throw all the blame on Julian"s shoulders, or else that, through Julian"s influence, they both might escape punishment. d.i.c.k had none of Digby"s scruples, so the whole plan was soon arranged. Both had thoroughly ill-regulated minds, and rejoiced in mischief for mischief"s sake.
Julian came back unperceived, and, in high spirits, told Digby that he was going to have his fun in spite of him.
The following night Julian awoke Digby about eleven o"clock, and told him that he must help him to get out of the window, and wait his return to let him in again.
Digby expostulated, but in vain; he had not yet learned that the only sure way for the young to avoid the contamination of evildoers is to keep out of their society altogether. So Digby agreed to sit up till Julian"s return.
The rope was secured, Julian descended by it, and off he ran across the lawn towards the wall, over which he had so often before made his escape from the premises.
Digby waited and waited; Julian did not return. He became very anxious about him. He wished that he had taken stronger measures to prevent his carrying out his foolish and mischievous prank. The only effectual way to have prevented him would have been to have told Marshall or his uncle, but such a proceeding was so contrary to all his notions of what ought to be done, that it did not even occur to him. He could not exactly tell how time pa.s.sed, but he thought that Julian must have been away a very long time. He could bear the suspense no longer. Some boys of his age would have gone to bed, and cried, or sat quaking with fear.
To do this was not at all in Digby"s nature. He loved action; he must be up and doing. He knew the road Julian would have taken, and he resolved to go and look for him. It did not occur to him that he should thus run a great risk of being implicated in whatever his companion had done; had he, I do not believe that the fear of that would have weighed with him a moment. He put on all his clothes and his shoes, and, without further consideration, slipped down the rope, gained the wall, and ran on as fast as his legs could carry him towards the river. He got very nearly to the spot where he thought Julian would have embarked, when he met two boys running. "Who"s there?--Julian, is that you?" he exclaimed.
"Oh, Digby, how you startled me," exclaimed one of the boys. It was Julian who spoke.
"All right," cried Digby. "I became very anxious. I was afraid some harm had happened, and so I set off to look for you; but why are you running so fast?"
"Because we are afraid somebody is after us," answered Julian, almost breathless. "We"ve done it, though, and rare fun there will be to-morrow to see what has become of all the boats."
It was not necessary for Julian to tell Digby to turn back; he had at once done so, and they were running on together. They turned their heads for a moment, and d.i.c.k Owlett had disappeared. His reason for so doing was very evident. Digby thus, very unintentionally, slipped into his shoes. They soon had to cross a meadow; their own footsteps now making but a slight noise, they were able to hear the sound of another person fast approaching them.
"It may be d.i.c.k Owlett," said Julian, in a low voice. "Still, if it is one of the coastguard men we shall catch it. Run, Digby, run."
Digby could have run a great deal faster than he was running, but had he done so he would have left Julian behind. Their pursuer, whoever he was, came on very rapidly. They had scarcely crossed the field when, looking back, they saw him at the other end of it. He must have seen them. It seemed very useless, therefore, to attempt to escape, but their natural impulse was to run on till he put his hand on their shoulder to stop them. Julian wanted to jump into a ditch and hide, as they had before done, but Digby protested against this, and insisted on running on. Across the fields they went--now they thought that they had escaped their pursuer--now they saw him again. Sometimes he got very close to them, and then they distanced him. At last they got up to the garden-wall. The footsteps sounded terribly loud close behind them.
They rushed on. Julian, always most anxious to escape from danger, had first sprung to the top of the wall, and Digby was helping him over, when a person leaped forward, and seizing Julian by the leg, and Digby by the shoulder, exclaimed--
"Hillo, young gentlemen, is it you, then, who have been about this pretty piece of mischief? What will your master say to you, I should like to know? It"s lucky we found it out, or there"s no saying what damage might have been done; however, that"s no excuse for you--so come along with me to the front door, and I"ll hand you over to Mr Nugent, or I"ll take you to the lock-up house, and let you stay there till the morning."
Julian nudged Digby, to induce him to speak. He took the hint.
"I have nothing to do with the mischief of which you are talking," he exclaimed, boldly. "I don"t know by what right you venture to detain me. I had a good reason for being out, which will, I believe, satisfy Mr Nugent, but I do not see that you, whoever you are, or any other man, has a right to call on me to explain it."
"Tell that to the marines, youngster; you are not going to impose on an old salt," answered the revenue man, for such he appeared. "Why, I traced you from the time you jumped on sh.o.r.e every inch of the way to this place."
"That you could not," answered Digby; "I have not been on the water to-night."
"Well, you are a bold young ruffian," exclaimed the man, fairly exasperated at Digby"s coolness. "I never have heard anybody, man or boy, tell a lie and stick to it as you can do."
"You are very impertinent," said Digby, who, knowing that he really was speaking the truth, forgot that it was not possible for the man to believe him. It did not occur to him that he very naturally was mistaken for d.i.c.k Owlett.
"Well, if it comes to that," said the man, "the sooner we go and talk to Mr Nugent the better. I don"t suppose that he allows his young gentlemen to be running about at nights for their own amus.e.m.e.nt."
Saying this their captor, who was a strong stout man, carried them off in spite of their struggles to the front door of the house. He rang and knocked for some time without succeeding in awaking any one.
The feelings of Digby and Julian may more easily be conceived than described, though, as may be supposed from what I have already mentioned of their characters, they were very different. They did not dare to communicate with each other, and so all they could do was to hold their tongues. At last Mr Nugent was aroused, and supposing that some sick parishioner wanted his attendance, he got up, dressed, and came down stairs. What was his astonishment at seeing two of his pupils in the hands of a revenue officer.
"Please, sir, I"ve brought you these two young gentlemen, to tell you that they have been playing no end of mischief down in the harbour, there, to-night--cutting the fishing-boats adrift, and letting them run foul of each other. If you like to take charge of them and have them ready when they are wanted, I"ll leave them; if not, I"ll take them off to the lock-up house, to pa.s.s the rest of the night."
Poor Mr Nugent could not believe his senses. He stood staring first at one and then at the other, fully believing that he was dreaming. Then he rubbed his eyes and felt his clothes, to a.s.sure himself that he had got up and dressed. "What is it all about?" he at last exclaimed. "Out on the river--in the middle of the night--you, Digby--you, Julian Langley. I cannot comprehend it. Come in, though, I am very much grieved; I beg that you, James Sutton, will explain matters more fully."
Without saying more, Mr Nugent led the way to his study, when lighting the candles he sat down, while the accuser and the two culprits stood before him. "Now, James Sutton, tell me your story, if you please," he said, calmly.
"Why, sir, these young gentlemen have been having what I suppose they call a lark. They went down to the river, shoved off in a boat, and went round, and with their knives cut the cables of a number of the fishermen"s boats and other small craft lying in the harbour. The ebb was just making, and the boats drove one against another; some went on sh.o.r.e, and others would have gone out to sea and been lost, but our boat was just coming in. Of course we boarded them, and finding no one in them, suspected that something was wrong. As our boat is white, and we pulled with m.u.f.fled oars, and our young gentlemen were very busy, they did not see us. We should have caught them in the act, but that we had to look after some of the boats. We saw them just landing, so our chief boatman put me on sh.o.r.e, and told me to follow them up and see where they went to. I didn"t think, you may be sure, that they were your young gentlemen."
"You acted in every way rightly," said Mr Nugent. "And now, Julian, what have you to say to this?"
"That it is a base fabrication," answered Julian. "I had no right to be out at night, that I know. I went out for a lark, because I couldn"t sleep, and meeting Digby we came back together; but that I did anything else I defy anybody to prove."
"Oh," said Mr Nugent. "What do you say to this, Digby?"
"That I had not been out of the house twenty minutes when this man caught hold of me," answered Digby, quietly. "I certainly was not doing any harm, though I ought not to have left the house without leave. I, however, am ready to stand the consequences of doing so."
"Well!" exclaimed Sutton, "he is the lad to swear that black is white, and make another believe it."
"I never knew him tell an untruth, Sutton," observed Mr Nugent. "There is a mystery about the matter which I cannot yet fathom."
"Well, sir, I will leave the young gentlemen with you, and you will be answerable for their appearance when they are wanted," said Sutton, laying a strong emphasis on that word wanted, which has so much significance to thieves and vagabonds.