Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 6

Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 6

"I thought it wasn't the cub," said Mr. Brandon indistinctly. "Where is

he?"

 

"He has gone to row Mr. Jackson over to Portville."

 

"I say, Mrs. B., does he earn much money that way?"

 

"He earns all the money that supports us," answered his wife coldly.

 

"I must see to that," said Brandon unsteadily. "He must bring me his

money every night--do you hear, Mrs. B.?--must bring me his money every

night."

 

"To spend for liquor, I suppose?" she responded bitterly.

 

"I'm a gentleman. My money--that is, his money is my money. D'ye

understand?"

 

"I understand only too well, Mr. Brandon."

 

"That's all right. I feel tired. Guess I'll go and lie down."

 

To his wife's relief he went up-stairs, and was soon stretched out on

the bed in a drunken sleep.

 

"I am glad he is out of the way. I should be ashamed to have Mr. Jackson

see him," thought Grit's mother, or Mrs. Brandon, as we must now call

her.

 

"Who is that man?" asked Willie anxiously.

 

"His name is Brandon," answered Grit's mother.

 

"He isn't a nice man. I don't like him."

 

Mrs. Brandon said nothing. What could she say? If she had spoken as she

felt, she would have been compelled to agree with the boy. Yet this man

was her husband, and was likely to be to her a daily source of anxiety

and annoyance.

 

"I am afraid Grit and he won't agree," she thought anxiously. "Oh I why

did he ever come back? For the last five years we have been happy. We

have lived plainly and humbly, but our home has been peaceful. Now,

Heaven knows what trouble is in store for us."

 

Half an hour later Mr. Jackson and Grit returned.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VI.

 

GRIT'S RECOMPENSE.

 

 

No time was lost in arraying Willie in clothes more suitable for him.

The little boy was glad to lay aside Grit's old suit, which certainly

was not very becoming to him.

 

"Are we going now, papa?" asked the little boy.

 

"Yes, Willie; but first I must express to this good lady my great thanks

for her kindness."

 

"I have done but little, sir," said Mrs. Brandon; "but that little I was

very glad to do."

 

"I am sure of that," said the visitor cordially.

 

"If you remain in the neighborhood, I shall hope to see your little boy

again, and yourself, also."

 

"I will come," said Willie promptly.

 

"He answers for himself," said his father, smiling, "and he will keep

his promise. Now, Grit," he said, turning to the young boatman, "I will

ask you to accompany me to the hotel."

 

"Certainly, sir."

 

When they had passed from the cottage, Mr. Jackson turned to the boy and

grasped his hand.

 

"I have not yet expressed to you my obligations," he said, with emotion,

"for the great service you have done me--the greatest in the power of

any man, or boy."

 

"Don't speak of it, sir," said Grit modestly.

 

"But I must. You have saved the life of my darling boy."

 

"I don't know, sir."

 

"But I do. I cannot swim a stroke, and but for your prompt bravery, he

would have drowned before my eyes."

 

Grit could not well contradict this statement, for it was incontestably

true.

 

"It was lucky I could swim," he answered.

 

"Yes, it was. It seems providential that I should have had with me so

brave a boy, when Willie's life was in peril. It will be something that

you will remember with satisfaction to the end of your own life."

 

"Yes, sir, there is no doubt of that," answered Grit sincerely.

 

"I shudder to think what a sad blank my own life would have been if I

had lost my dear boy. He is my only child, and for this reason I should

have missed him the more. Your brave act is one that I cannot fitly

reward----"

 

"I don't need any reward, Mr. Jackson," said Grit hastily.

 

"I am sure you do not. You do not look like a mercenary boy. But, for

all that, I owe it to myself to see that so great a favor does not go

unacknowledged. My brave boy, accept this wallet and what it contains,

not as the payment of a debt, but as the first in the series of my

acknowledgments to you."

 

As he spoke, he put into the hand of the young boatman a wallet.

 

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Jackson," said Grit, "but I am not

sure that I ought to take this."

 

"Then let me decide for you," said the broker, smiling. "I am older, and

may be presumed to have more judgment."

 

"It will seem as if I took pay for saving Willie from drowning."

 

"If you did, it would be perfectly proper. But you forget that I have

had the use of your boat and your own services for the greater part of

the afternoon."

 

"I presume you have paid me more than I ask for such services."

 

"Very likely," answered Mr. Jackson. "In fact, outside of my obligations

to you, I have formed a good opinion of a boy who works hard and

faithfully to support his mother. I was a poor boy once, and I have not

forgotten how to sympathize with those who are beginning the conflict

with narrow means. Mind, Grit, I don't condole with you. You have good

health and strong hands, and in our favored country there is no reason

why, when you reach my age, you may not be equally well off."

 

"I wish I might--for mother's sake," said Grit, his face lighting up

with hope.

 

"I shall see more of you while I am here, but I may as well say now that

I mean to bear you in mind, and wish you to come to me, either here or

in the city, when you stand in need of advice or assistance."

 

Grit expressed his gratitude. Mr. Jackson selected a room at the hotel,

and promised to take up his quarters there the next day. Then Grit once

more took up his oars and ferried Willie and his father across the

river.

 

It was not for some time, therefore, that he had a chance to examine the

wallet which had been given him.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VII.

 

GRIT ASTONISHES PHIL.

 

 

Grit was not wholly without curiosity, and, as was natural, he

speculated as to the amount which the wallet contained. When Mr. Jackson

and Willie had left him, he took it out of his pocket and opened it.

 

He extracted a roll of bills and counted them over. There were ten

five-dollar bills, and ten dollars in notes of a smaller denomination.

 

"Sixty dollars!" ejaculated Grit, with a thrill of pleasure. "I never

was so rich in all my life."

 

He felt that the sum was too large for him to accept, and he was half

tempted to run after Mr. Jackson and say so. But quick reflection

satisfied him that the generous New Yorker wished him to retain it, and,

modest though he was, he was conscious that in saving the little boy's

life he had placed his passenger under an obligation which a much larger

sum would not have overpaid. Besides, he saw two new passengers walking

toward his boat, who doubtless wished to be ferried across the river.

They were Phil Courtney and Marion Clarke.

 

"We are just in time, Mr. Grit," said the young lady, smiling.

 

"Yes, my good fellow," said Phil condescendingly, "we will employ you

again."

 

"You are very kind," answered Grit, with a smile of amusement.

 

"I like to encourage you," continued Phil, who was not very quick to

interpret the looks of others.

 

Grit looked at Marion, and noticed that she, too, looked amused.

 

"Have you had any passengers since we came over?" asked Phil, in a

patronizing tone.

 

He was quite ready to employ his old schoolmate, provided he would show

proper gratitude, and be suitably impressed by his condescension.

 

"I have been across several times," answered Grit briefly.

 

"And how much have you made now?" asked Phil, with what he intended to

pass for benevolent interest.