Ben was our best messenger from the first. He was acquainted with the city of Damietta from one end to the other, and his superior fleetness of foot enabled him to outstrip the others, while his cheerful, intelligent manner added to his popularity with our customers.
As he was so young, I determined to keep him messenger for a longer time than was really necessary, affording him all the opportunity he could ask in which to learn telegraphy. He picked it up rapidly, and I was surprised when I found him reading messages over the wires by sound. As everyone knows, it takes a skillful operator, or rather one of experience, to do this, a proof that Ben was applying himself to learning the business with all the power at his command.
In more than one instance, those who knew the high estimation in which the boy was held exerted themselves to put annoyances and obstructions in his way. All manner of pretexts were made for detaining him, and he showed no little originality and ingenuity in outwitting his very attentive friends.
He continued to apply himself evenings, when not on duty at the office, and his progress was excellent in every respect. The kind principal showed great interest in him, and at the age of twelve Ben Mayberry possessed what may be called a good elementary English education.
Before, however, these two years had passed he could receive and send messages in a very acceptable manner. His wages had been advanced, and he now had his mother in comfortable quarters, dressed tastefully himself, and was developing into a handsome youth, whose brilliant work had already attracted the notice of the general superintendent.
Ben had been an operator a little less than a year when he met with a most extraordinary experience, which to-day is a theme of never-ending wonder to those who were living in Damietta at the time.
One evening a rough-bearded man entered the office, and stepping to the counter, said to me:
“My name is Burkhill—G. R. Burkhill—and I am staying at the hotel in Moorestown. I am expecting a very important dispatch to-night, but I cannot wait for it. If it reaches this office before ten o’clock, I wish to have it delivered to the hotel.”
Moorestown lay directly across the river, and was reached by the long, covered bridge which spanned the stream. It was beyond our “jurisdiction,” that is, outside the circle of free delivery, which Mr. Burkhill understood, as he remarked that he would pay well for the trouble.
I assured him that I would see that the telegram reached him that night, if received before ten o’clock. Thanking me, he said good-evening, passed out, mounted his horse, and galloped away in the wintry darkness.