NO. 12. WHITTINGTON SETTING THE KING FREE FROM THE GREAT DEBT.
Dick slept in a garret which was overrun with rats and mice; they were so bold that they even crept about over him when he was in bed, and prevented him sleeping. What could he do about this? In all the world he had but one penny; how he came by this penny I do not know, but I feel sure he earned it by doing some extra work. With it he bought a cat and took her up to his garret, and there she lived and made war on the rats and mice. Henceforth Dick slept in peace.
Whenever the merchant, Hugh Fitzwarren, sent a ship to trade with foreign countries, he allowed each of his servants to have some little share in her; each might send out in her some silk or cloth, or even a very little thing, whatever he had or could afford to buy; and the money for which this thing was sold was the servant's own. This the merchant did that "so God might give him greater blessing." Thus it came about that one day Dick was called with all the other servants, and each was asked what he would send out in the good ship Unicorn, which was now ready for sea. When it came to Dick's turn, he said, "I have nought to send." "Think again," said his master; "hast thou no little thing thou canst spare? Hast thou nought to venture?" "Nought, nought," answered Dick, "except my cat, and thou wilt not take her." "Nay, why not?" said the merchant. "Send thy cat by all means." So, though his fellow-servants laughed and mocked, Dick's cat was sent on board the Unicorn.
Now he was lonely indeed; so lonely that the cook's angry words and cross tempers were harder to bear than ever, and Dick made up his mind to run away. Very early one morning—it was the Feast of All-Hallows—while his fellow-servants were still fast asleep, he slipped out of Master Fitzwarren's house and made his way northward out of London. On Highgate Hill he sat down to rest. Hark! what was that he heard? Now the wind brought the sound to him more clearly; now it died away again. It was the chime of Bow bells, and this is what it said to him:—
"Turn again, Whittington,
Lord Mayor of London!"
Lord Mayor of London! Was he to be Lord Mayor? If so, must he not work faithfully, and, if need be, endure hardships—yes, even such little hardships as the cruel words and blows of the bad-tempered cook? Up he jumped, and hurried back so fast that he reached Master Fitzwarren's house before the cook had missed him.