Bertie had looked forward as impatiently as anybody for the time to come when they could go out sailing or rowing over the sea he loved so well; and yet, when the day came, and he found himself in the boat, gliding over the shining water, he was seized with a horrible and unconquerable sense of terror; his agitation became so great that the boat had to be put back to land, so that he could be put ashore and no determination on his own part, or persuasions or ridicule from others, ever induced him to repeat the experiment. Again and again he made up his mind that it was all nonsense, and that he would conquer himself, and again and again the first sight of the boat would bring back all the nameless horrors which he could neither understand nor drive away. The very thought of trusting himself to those frail timbers was agony to him, and nothing could bring him to the point of entering the boat again.
Phil and Queenie laughed at him, and David was quite distressed that he should miss all the pleasant hours the rest spent upon the water; but they were all kind each in a different way, and Bertie was allowed to please himself in peace until the other big brothers came from school, and with them his troubles began.
Walter, Bernard, and Ralph Arbuthnot were strong lads, high-spirited, full of fun and mischief, and quite determined, like most boys fresh from school, to get all the fun out of the holidays that they possibly could. They were not hard-hearted or unkindly boys, but they loved to tease and to play tricks on anybody who gave them the chance, and they found in little Bertie a sort of victim whom they sadly plagued, without having any idea of the pain they inflicted upon him.
He took it all so quietly that they fancied he did not feel it. When they laughed at him for being nameless and homeless, a sort of “outcast” and “vagabond,” he never made any reply, and they had no notion that their taunts cut into his very heart and brought back all that sense of misery and desolation that he had gradually been outgrowing with time.
They liked the little boy in reality, although he was so different from themselves that they could not help poking fun at him. They had no wish to be unkind, but they did not understand him in the least, and had no idea that he was not as careless and “thick-skinned” as themselves.
It was some time before they discovered Bertie’s horror of the water. The arrival of a very favorite uncle soon after the commencement of the holidays took up a great deal of their time and attention; and so long as Uncle Fred was available to play tennis or cricket or take long walks or rides with them, they wanted nothing else, and the boating was given up for a season.
Mr. Frederick Arbuthnot was always very kind to Bertie whenever the child appeared, but the little boy rather shunned the Court just now, for he dreaded the banter of the bigger boys, and he fancied that he was not wanted by any one.
He returned to his old pastime of wandering over the sandhills alone or with David; but a sort of melancholy had come over him, and he often felt unspeakably lonely and desolate. The only thing that seemed to do him any good was to repeat again and again the words of unchanging promise that he had learned from David’s card that Sunday long ago.
One day, as the two boys were sitting together under the shadow of the boat, they heard the sound of trampling footsteps and many voices, and the whole party from the big house rushed down to the shore and proceeded unceremoniously to lay hands upon the boat, ordering David to run and fetch oars and rudder whilst they launched the craft.
Bertie stood aside and watched them run the boat down to the water. He learned from Queenie that Uncle Fred was coming down shortly, and was going to take them a long sail or row, and she asked Bertie if he would not like to come too.