“Then, as she will be a great fortune—”
“Not a sixpence,—she'll not have sixpence, doctor. That bubble has burst at last, and can never be blown again. The whole claim has been rejected, refused, thrown out, and there 's an end of it. It amuses the old man to sit on the wreck and fancy he can repair the shattered timbers and make them seaworthy; and, for the time he is likely to last, it is only kindness to leave him to his delusion; but he is ruined,—ruined beyond recall, and as I have told you, the girl will have nothing.”
“Do they know this,—has Barrington heard it?”
“Yes, I broke it to him last night, but I don't think he fully realized the tidings; he has certain reserves—certain little conceits of his own—which are to supply him with a sort of hope; but let us talk of something more practical. How can we secure Miss Dill's services?”
“A few days ago, the easiest way would have been to offer to befriend her brother, but this morning brings us news that this is not needed,—he is coming home.”
“How so?”
“It is a great event in its way; at least, it may be for Tom. It seems there was a collision at sea, somewhere near the Cape, between the ship 'St. Helen's,' that carried out General Hunter and his staff, and the 'Regulus,' with the Forty-ninth on board. It was at night, and a terrible sea on at the time. In the shock the 'St. Helen's' took fire; and as the two ships were inextricably locked together, the danger was common to each. While the boats were being lowered and manned,—for it was soon seen the vessel could not be saved,—a cry was raised that the fire was gaining on the fore-hold, and would soon reach the magazine. The woful news spread at once, and many jumped overboard in their terror. Just then Tom heard that there was a means of drowning the powder by opening a certain sluice, and, without waiting for more, he clambered across into the sinking vessel, made his way through smoke and fire, gained the spot, and succeeded, just as the very ladder itself had caught the flames. How he got back he cannot tell, for the vessel foundered in a few minutes, and he was so burned—face, cheek, and one shoulder—that he was unconscious of everything; and even when the account came, was still in bed, and not able to see.”
“He was a wild sort of lad, was he not,—a scamp, in short?”
“No, not exactly that; idle—careless—kept bad company at times.”
“These are the fellows who do this kind of thing once in their lives,—mark you, never twice. They never have more than one shot in their locker, but it will suffice in this case.”