Her Benny: A Story of Street Life

by Silas K. Hocking

It seemed so strange to be there again, and to be there in sorrow and disgrace; and once or twice he stretched out his hand in the darkness as if expecting to find his little sister by his side. Then, as the memory of his loss and the loneliness of his life crept over him, he gave vent to his feelings in a flood of tears. By-and-bye he grew calm, and soon after fell asleep; and in happy dreams, in which he wandered with Nelly through Eastham Woods, he forgot all his trouble and care.

When he awoke the next morning the court was alive and stirring, and Bowker's Row was crowded with ill-fed, ragged, and dirty children: some were doing their best to climb the lamp-posts, some were practising cart-wheel revolutions, some were squatted idly on the pavement, and others were playing with the refuse in the street.

On Benny making his appearance, he was greeted with a shout and a howl that made the street echo again, and summoned the elders to the doorways to see what had happened.

It was very evident that the older children had recognized him, while many a familiar face appeared at door and window. This Benny thought was very unfortunate, for he was in no mood to be questioned or to brook delay. So he darted down the street as if on a race for life, knocking over several of the older lads who tried to check his progress.

For some distance he was followed by a whole tribe of noisy urchins, who shouted at the top of their voices. But Benny was too fleet-footed for them, and soon Bowker's Row and its noisy denizens were left far behind.

Benny's first thought now was to secure a substantial breakfast, which was by no means a difficult matter. That done, he made his way toward the docks, in the hope that he might get employment of some kind. But to a little friendless lad, without character or recommendation, employment was not so easily obtained. Most of those whom he addressed did not condescend to notice his question in any way. A few asked him what he could do, and when he replied "Anything," the invariable answer was, "That means nothing," and he was sent about his business. In fact, there seemed to be no work in the whole line of docks that a child of his age was capable of doing. And night found him worn out with fatigue, and with a sadly lightened pocket.

However, he kept up his heart as well as he could, and sought rest and sleep in a damp cellar upon some dirty straw, which for the payment of twopence he shared with a dozen other lads, who appeared to be as friendless as himself. That night he slept the sleep of the innocent and weary, and awoke next morning, strengthened and refreshed, to find that all his companions had left and that his pockets were empty!

This was a terrible blow to Benny; but when he discovered that his "lucky shilling" was still safe in the lining of his waistcoat, he dried his tears, and went bravely out, hungry as he was, to battle with an unfriendly world.

Before sunset, however, he had nearly lost heart, for he had been unable to earn a single penny, and he was almost faint with hunger. So in sheer desperation he sought his old place on the landing-stage, in the hope that he might have the chance of carrying some one's portmanteau, and in that way earn his supper; but everyone to whom he offered his services repulsed him, and for the first time he wondered whether it would be wrong to throw himself into the river, and whether that would not be the easiest way out of his trouble. Somehow he could not help thinking that it would be less wicked for him to do that than to steal. He could not starve; drowning he was sure would be a much less painful death; and, as far as he could see, it had really come to this, that he must either steal or die. But he would not steal, he had made up his mind to that. Had he not promised Nelly that he would be honest? And had not Joe and granny and his Sunday-school teacher told him what a wicked thing it was to be a thief? No; he had settled that matter, and when he had settled a thing in his own mind he was not to be moved. The question then was, what was the easiest kind of death? The river looked beautiful this summer evening, and he thought it must be very nice to rest beneath its cool sparkling waters after the hot glare of the streets. Should he plunge in now, or should he wait a little longer? He had been without food for twenty-four hours. He had no place to sleep, no means of getting supper.

Then suddenly he remembered his "lucky shilling."