Chapter Two.
Dick makes up his Mind.
It was late in the evening of the day upon which Mrs Maitland, having fulfilled the formalities required of her by Graham, had received from him a cheque for the sum of four hundred and eighty-seven pounds, seventeen shillings, and eightpence, which, apart from the house in which she lived, represented all that remained to her of the very comfortable fortune left to her by her late husband. Dick had escorted his mother up to town, and, upon the conclusion of the transaction, had taken her back to The Cedars; after which he had made the best of his way to 19 Paradise Street; for the moment had now arrived when he must come to an understanding with his friend Dr Julian Humphreys, and consult with him respecting the future. Ten o’clock had struck a few minutes ago, a belated patient had been attended to and dismissed, the surgery had been closed by the simple process of drawing down the blind and locking the outer door, and now the two friends were sitting opposite each other in that same drug-scented apartment, conversing earnestly together, as Humphreys pulled contemplatively, yet somewhat vexedly, at a brier pipe which had seen so much service that it was now charred down to about half its original size.
“The fact is,” remarked Dick, in continuance of their conversation, “that there is no other course open to me; for I am resolved that I will not touch a farthing of the money that your friend Graham has so cleverly rescued from the ruins of Cuthbertson’s estate; every stiver of it will be required for the maintenance of the poor Mater while I am away. And I must go away, because, as you yourself have admitted, there is no employment or occupation of any kind here at home to which, in my present condition of unpreparedness, I could turn my hand with any hope of earning a sufficient income to maintain her and myself, though ever so modestly; even if posts were to be had for the asking, which—in this country, at all events—they are not. You know that to be the plain, unvarnished truth, do you not?”
“Yes,” Humphreys answered unhesitatingly, “it is true—unfortunately.”
“Very well, then,” Dick resumed; “that being the case, the next question is: Where am I to go, and what am I to do, in order to earn enough money to maintain myself and my mother in the meantime, and eventually to restore her to that position of security of which she was robbed by that rascal Cuthbertson?”
“De mortuis nil nisi bonum!” reproved Humphreys gravely. “The poor chap has gone to answer for his sins, whatever they may have been, and there is an end of him, so far as you are concerned. To rail at him now, and speak of him disparagingly, will not hurt him, or do you any good, Dick, my friend, so do not unnecessarily bespatter his memory. This by the way. And now to return to our muttons. The problem that you propound is indeed a hard one to solve; to many it would probably appear an impossibility. But, although I am by no means an old man, I have been long enough in this world to have recognised that what many people deem impossibilities are nothing of the sort, if only one has the grit to face and tackle them. It is grit, my boy, that makes impossibilities possible, and I believe you possess that quality in sufficient measure to enable you to accomplish great things. The question is: What is the particular great thing which will meet your case? What is the work which you are best fitted to do? You are already very well up in the profession which you have chosen. There is many a man in successful practice to-day who knows less about it than you do; but, unfortunately, you are not yet ‘qualified’, therefore you cannot set up for yourself, even if you could afford the time to create a practice—which you cannot. And as to becoming an unqualified assistant, that of course is out of the question; the pay is altogether too poor to justify the entertainment of that idea. But there are countries where the restrictions are not nearly so great as they are in England; and there are others—beyond the pale of civilisation—where no restrictions at all exist, and where a clever man, with plenty of grit to back him up, might perhaps do remarkably well. Still, to penetrate to such countries a man must take his life in his hands, and, even then, all his courage may prove insufficient to save him from an unspeakable, horrible death. Now, what can you do besides doctoring?”
“Nothing that will help me in my present strait,” answered Maitland. “I can sail a boat, swim, ride, or drive a horse, and I can shoot straight; consequently if I possessed sufficient influence I might be able to get a job as groom, stableman, or even under-gamekeeper. But none of those things is good enough for me; I am capable of better things than grooming horses, cleaning harness, or looking after pheasants; I want employment that will bring me in good money, and I mean to have it too.”
“That’s right, Dick; that’s the way to talk,” returned Humphreys approvingly. “Modesty is all right, a very desirable and admirable quality in every young man’s character, and one which is seen far too seldom nowadays. Modesty, however, is one thing, and self-depreciation quite another. It is a mistake for anyone to underrate his own value, and, as you very truly say, you are capable of doing much better work than that needed in either of the occupations that you have named; therefore you are justified in insisting upon having it. A man has a perfect right to the very best and most profitable work he is capable of doing; but he must get it for himself; it is no use for him to sit down supinely and demand that Providence shall put it into his hands. The man who is worth his salt will get up and ‘hustle’—as the Americans tersely express it—and not rest until he has secured what he wants. Now, you, my boy, are very heavily handicapped. You have neither money nor influence to help you to what you want, therefore you will have to depend upon ‘hustle’ and grit alone; also you have no time to waste in looking about in this country for the kind of thing you want, which, even with all the ‘hustle’ and grit imaginable, may take you months, or even years, to find. No, as you said at the beginning of this conversation, you must go somewhere abroad to get what you want; and in a foreign land you may find even such despised accomplishments as riding, swimming, and straight shooting of the utmost value to you. But in my opinion your mainstay must be the medical and surgical knowledge which you have acquired. Now, whereabout on the face of this old globe of ours are you likely to be able to employ your knowledge to the best and most profitable account? It should be where wealth is abundant, and where medical and surgical skill is pretty frequently in demand, also where there is plenty of scope for a young fellow who, like yourself, is imbued with the spirit of adventure. Now, let me consider for a moment—where is the country which most nearly answers to these conditions? What do you say to South Africa? It is the land of gold and diamonds; it is not, I believe, overrun with medical men; and as to adventure—” Humphreys shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands abroad expressively.
Dick’s eyes sparkled and his face lit up with enthusiasm.
“South Africa is the place for me, without a doubt,” he exclaimed with animation. “It is, as you say, rich; it is also a land of unbounded possibilities; and— But how am I to get there? The passage money amounts to something considerable, and I have no money to spare for that sort of thing; also, as I have said, I will not take a penny from the Mater.”
“What about borrowing?” suggested Humphreys. “As you know, Dick, I am not a rich man, but I have no doubt I could manage to—”
“No!” interrupted Dick emphatically; “a thousand times no. It is like you, Doctor, to offer to help me out of your own exceedingly limited means, and I am more grateful to you than I have words to express; but I simply will not avail myself of your kindness, or that of anybody else indeed, for I should be starting with a millstone of debt hanging round my neck. No, I have thought of a better way than that; I will work my passage out.”
“Work your passage out!” ejaculated the Doctor, staggered, in spite of his whole-hearted belief in the virtues of self-help, at this bold suggestion on Dick’s part. “In what capacity, pray?”
“Oh, as anything!” returned Dick buoyantly; “as ordinary seaman, cook’s mate, stoker—what does it matter? I will find a way, never fear. I’ll take a trot round the docks to-morrow, and it will be strange indeed if I cannot somewhere find a market for my labour. Why, even the elementary knowledge of nautical matters that I have acquired in sailing my little single-handed cutter during holiday time will be of service to me. I can steer, I can box the compass, I know the name of every sail on a full-rigged ship; and I will guarantee that before I have been forty-eight hours out I will know the function of every bit of running rigging, and where to lay my hand upon it in the dark.”
“Ay, I’ll bet that you will, Dick,” answered Humphreys, with enthusiasm as great as Dick’s own. “And I have not much doubt as to your being able to get a berth as ordinary seaman; for you are a big strong fellow, and for mere pulling and hauling purposes any skipper ought to be glad to get hold of you. Yes, I think we may consider that part of your problem solved. But what about after your arrival in South Africa? How do you propose to proceed at the end of the voyage when you have safely landed? For you must remember that in all probability you will have no wages to draw; people who work their passages are usually shipped at the princely rate of pay of one shilling per month.”
“Yes, I know,” said Dick. “Still, I shall have reached the scene of my great endeavour without cost, and that is the important thing. After that I shall of course be obliged to trust to my own push and ‘hustle’, as you call it, for it is impossible to make any definite plans at this distance from the scene of operations.”
“Quite so,” agreed Humphreys. “And you must also remember that there is always the element of luck, or chance, or whatever you please to call it, in the background, and to be watched for. Opportunity often presents itself literally at a moment’s notice and in the most unexpected fashion, and the one who profits by it is he who is alert enough to seize it as it passes. But there is one thing you must do, Dick; you must take with you a well-stocked chest of drugs, as well as your case of surgical instruments; and, since you will not let me lend you any money to help you on your way, you must allow me to make you a present of that medicine chest just as a token of my appreciation of the way in which you have conducted yourself as my pupil— Nay, boy, you must not refuse me, for if you do I shall be deeply hurt as well as seriously offended.”
“Very well, then,” acquiesced Dick, “since you put it in that way, and so very strongly, I will accept your generous gift with a thousand most hearty thanks, not only for the gift itself, but also for the kindly feeling that prompts it.”
“My dear Dick,” protested Humphreys, “there is really no reason at all why you should feel so extraordinarily grateful, for in doing what I propose to do I shall only be very inadequately repaying you for much valuable assistance rendered, and much very pleasant companionship during the time of your pupilage with me. And do not think that because I have not expressed much voluble regret at this abrupt severance of our connection I do not feel it, for I do very keenly, I assure you; but I see quite clearly that the thing is inevitable, therefore to complain about it would be both useless and foolish.
“Now, there is one other way in which I can help you; and when I have explained to you how tremendous is the power which I propose to place in your hands you will understand, more clearly than I could show you in any other way, the absolute trust that I repose in you. For I tell you this, Dick, in all sincerity, there is not another person in the whole circle of my acquaintance—and it is pretty wide—whom I feel I could safely trust with this power, so potent is it for evil as well as good. But I am convinced that I can trust you; and that is why I have determined to endow you with the ability to perform deeds which to many people will seem positively miraculous.
“You have often expressed amazement at the uniform success which attends my treatment of even my most difficult cases, both medical and surgical, but especially the surgical; and I know, from the remarks you have made, that you attribute those successes purely to the extent of my knowledge. Well, of course, knowledge has something to do with it; but the true secret of my success lies in the free use which I make of hypnotism. Yes, no doubt you are surprised; for you have never seen me employ any of the well-known methods of the ordinary hypnotist. Very true. But my method is not the ordinary method at all; it is one which I claim as my own exclusive discovery, and it is as far in advance of ordinary hypnotism as that is in advance of the methods of the stage hypnotist.
“Almost at the outset of my professional career I directed my attention to the investigation of hypnotism, determined to ascertain whether or not there was anything in the claims set up by its exponents; and I soon discovered that there was something in it, despite the disrepute cast upon it by the grotesque performances of certain so-called entertainers. There is no need for me to detail to you the successive steps by which I at length attained my present knowledge of the marvellous powers of the science. Let it suffice me to say that by diligent study of it I eventually acquired such a mastery of it that it has enabled me to—well, to put it mildly—succeed where but for it I must have failed. And a large measure of this success is due to the fact that I have discovered an infallible method of instantly hypnotising a patient without that patient’s knowledge. They are hypnotised, but they don’t know it; haven’t the remotest suspicion of it. Then I convey to them a powerful suggestion that my treatment of them is going to be absolutely successful, and—there you have the whole secret.”
Humphreys paused for a moment, as if considering whether or not he should say more; then he gazed abstractedly at his carefully kept finger nails, and his right hand wandered to his waistcoat pocket. Then, looking up, he extended the hand toward Dick, saying:
“Just lend me your penknife a moment, will you?”
Dick produced the knife and held it out to Humphreys, who looked at it, then shrank back.
“Good heavens, man,” he exclaimed, “I asked for a penknife, not for an adder! Where did you get that brute from?”
With an inarticulate cry, and an expression of unutterable disgust and loathing, Maitland dropped the penknife to the floor, and then stamped on it savagely, grinding the heel of his boot on it as though grinding the head of a snake into the ground.
“Why, Dick!” exclaimed Humphreys, looking his assistant square in the eye; “what are you doing? What has that good knife been doing to you that you should treat it in that barbarous manner?”
Maitland stared back blankly into the Doctor’s smiling eyes for a moment, then looked long at the penknife on the floor, and finally stooped and cautiously took it between his forefinger and thumb, eyeing it doubtfully the while. Then he suddenly sat down, pulled out his pocket handkerchief, and mopped off the perspiration that freely bedewed his face.
“Well, I’ll be shot!” he ejaculated. “What an extraordinary experience! Will you believe me, Doctor, when I tell you that as I drew this penknife out of my waistcoat pocket it actually seemed to change into an adder in my hand? There was the flat, wicked-looking head, the malevolent eyes, the characteristic markings of the body, and, above all, there was the feeling of it writhing strongly in my grasp, as though it were trying to get enough of its length clear to turn and strike me! Talk about Aaron’s rod and those of the old Egyptian necromancers turning into serpents! Why, I could have sworn that this knife of mine did precisely the same thing! Now, there is a problem for you, Doctor: What sort of mental aberration was it that caused me to imagine such an extraordinary thing as that, eh?”
“Simply, my dear boy, that I hypnotised you ‘unbeknownst’, so to speak, in illustration of what I have been telling you,” answered the Doctor, laying his hand upon Dick’s shoulder. “Hope I didn’t scare you very severely, eh?”
“N–o,” answered Dick slowly, “you did not actually scare me, Doctor; but you managed to give me such a thrill of horror and disgust as I have not experienced for many a long day. But, I say, do you really mean to tell me, in sober earnest, that that abominable experience was due to hypnotic suggestion on your part?”
“Yes, I do,” answered Humphreys. “I wanted to bring home to you in a very convincing manner the power which the hypnotist exercises over his subject. I could have done it even more convincingly, perhaps, by commanding you to take that perfectly cold poker in your hand, and then suggesting to you that it was red hot, when—despite the fact of the poker being cold—your hand would have been most painfully blistered. But probably the ‘adder’ experiment was convincing enough, eh?”
“It was indeed,” assented Dick with a little reminiscent shudder. “But look here, Doctor, you say that you hypnotised me. When did you do it? I didn’t see you do anything peculiar.”
“No, my boy, of course you didn’t, because I adopted my own especial method, which is instantaneous and undetectable, and which I will teach you if you care to learn it; for I seem to foresee that there may be occasions, by and by, when you get out to South Africa, when you may find the power extremely useful to you, particularly if you should get any medical or surgical work to do. In such a case just hypnotise your patient in the way that I will teach you, then powerfully suggest to him that your treatment is going to cure him—and it will do so. As to when I got you under my influence, it was done while I asked you to lend me your penknife.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Dick; “it is marvellous, perfectly marvellous; and if I did not know you to be an absolutely truthful man I do not think I could bring myself to believe it. Now I can understand what you meant when you spoke of the potency of hypnotism for good or for evil, and why, as I understand, you have never yet dared to pass on the secret of your power to anyone else. But I swear to you, Doctor, that, if you will entrust it to me, I will never, under any circumstances whatsoever, use it except for a good purpose, nor will I ever pass on the secret to anyone else except with your express permission. And now that you have given me an idea of its capabilities I simply long to know the secret, for it seems to me that a chap with your powers could come very near to working miracles.”
“Yes,” assented Humphreys quietly, “that is so; indeed, even with my imperfect knowledge—for I have not yet nearly mastered all the possibilities of the science—I have done things that without its aid would have been impossible. And now, if you like, I will initiate you into the secret of my power, which is very simple after all, and which, once known, will enable you to do everything that I can do. First of all, however, I propose to throw you into a cataleptic sleep, in order that, while you are in that condition, I may imbue you with an absolute faith in yourself, without which everything that I can teach you would be practically useless, at least until you had acquired faith in yourself by the somewhat slow and laborious process which I had to pursue. I had to acquire faith in myself and my powers by repeated experiments extending over a period of several months; but you have not time for that, so I must imbue you with it by the process of suggestion while you are in a state of trance. Now, are you ready?”
“Yes, quite,” answered Dick, with a quick indrawing of the breath; for now that it came to the point he suddenly found that to submit himself unreservedly to the hands of even his friend Humphreys, for the purposes of an experiment that smacked rather strongly of the uncanny, was something of a nerve-trying experience. Humphreys evidently noted his momentary hesitation, for he said:
“You need not have the least fear; you will be profoundly unconscious during the period of sleep, and will awake without the slightest trace of any unpleasant feeling. Now, stretch yourself out comfortably on that sofa, and do exactly as I tell you.”
When Dick descended to the surgery, a few minutes late, the next morning, he found his friend Humphreys, with his coat off, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his clothes protected by a white apron extending from his throat to the tops of his boots, busily engaged in dusting his bottles and the shelves whereon they stood.
As Dick entered, the Doctor, mounted upon a step ladder, looked down at him with a smile and nod of welcome, and said:
“Well, my boy, how did you sleep, and how do you feel after your ordeal of last night?”
Dick laughed joyously. “My ‘ordeal’!” he exclaimed. “I hope I may never have to undergo a more trying ordeal than that. I slept like a top, thank you, and feel as fit as a fiddle this morning, indeed I don’t know that I ever felt so fit in all my life before. But that is not all: I have not the remotest idea what mysterious thing you did to me last night, but this I know, that you have imparted to me a something that I have never hitherto possessed. I feel this morning a buoyancy of spirit that it seems to me no amount of disappointment could damp or lessen for a moment, and I have a belief in myself so complete, so boundless, that I feel I cannot help but be successful in this new venture of mine upon which I am about to embark.”
“Yes,” said Humphreys, nodding his head in a manner which very clearly expressed his satisfaction, “that is the result of your ‘ordeal’, and it will be quite permanent. Mind you, I don’t say that you will always feel quite so buoyant and confident as you do at this moment, for it is beyond the power of any man to make another absolutely immune to circumstances; but in spite of circumstances, however adverse, you will always retain some at least of your present buoyancy and confidence. I do not think you will ever sink into that condition of utter and abject despair which overwhelms some people and drives them to suicide. To change the subject. Are you still minded to go to the docks this morning in quest of a shipmaster benevolently enough inclined to allow you to work your passage out to South Africa?”
“Rather!” answered Dick. “That is to say, if you think you can spare me for a few hours.”
“Of course I can spare you,” answered Humphreys. “And I would advise you to go immediately after breakfast, for, as you know, ‘it is the early bird that catches the worm.’ But how do you propose to set about your quest? Not quite haphazard, I suppose?”
“No,” answered Dick. “I thought of getting the Shipping Gazette, and perhaps the Telegraphy and consulting their advertisement pages, with the view of learning what ships are on the berth for South African ports, where they are lying, and their date of sailing.”
“An excellent idea,” declared the Doctor. “As soon as Polly has put breakfast upon the table we will send her out to get the papers, and you can consult them and prepare a list of likely vessels before you go out.”
This was done; and by nine o’clock, Dick, having breakfasted, was ready to sally forth on the first stage of his journey in quest of fortune, duly armed with a slip of paper containing a list of some half-dozen ships loading for South Africa, “with quick dispatch.”
And two hours later he returned to the surgery, his visage beaming with satisfaction.
“Hurrah, Doctor!” he exclaimed, as he dashed in through the open doorway. “I’ve done the trick; got the skipper of the Concordia to allow me to work my passage out to Port Natal as ordinary seaman at a shilling a month. I ‘sign on’ at the shipping office the day after to-morrow, and have to be on board by eight o’clock the same evening in readiness to haul out of dock at daylight on the following morning.”