Larry was, indeed, just coming up, dragging a piece of timber behind him; while, in his left hand, he held a large bundle of fragments of wood, of different sizes, which, as well as the timber, he was taking home for firing.
"Larry, come here. The English gentleman wants to speak to you."
The boy dropped his wood, and came up.
"My lad," Colonel L'Estrange said, "I am greatly indebted to you for your work of last night. Take this," and he placed a purse of ten guineas in Larry's hand.
"And remember that I am still greatly your debtor, and that if, at any future time, you should be in a position in which my aid may be useful, you have only to let me know, and I will stand your friend."
The sum appeared to Larry to be enormous.
"Long life to yer honour, and it's proud I am to have been of service to such a grand gentleman. It's thankful I am for your kindness, and if ever you want a boy to do a job for you, it's myself that will be proud to do it. As to yesterday, I just came because the young squire tould me to, and thankful I am that he got back safe to shore, for, if we had been drowned, I don't know whatever I should have said to the squire."
Two days after the shipwreck, Walter and John Whitefoot met at the place which they had agreed on, when they last saw each other four days before.
"I heard of your brave deed on the night of the storm, Walter. Everyone is talking of it; and even my grandfather, who has seldom a good word for any of you at the Castle, said that it was a noble deed. It was as much as I could do not to say, 'Yes, he is a friend of mine;' for I felt proud of you, I can tell you."
"It is all nonsense, John. I have often been out in a curragh in bad weather, though never in quite such a storm as that; but, once launched, she rode lightly enough, and scarce shipped a spoonful of water."
"I should like to have been there," John said; "but I should have been no use. My people have always been against my going down to the sea, deeming it a pure waste of time, except that they let me go down to swim. I can do that well, you know; but they have always forbidden my going out in boats. Now, you see, it is proved that it is not a waste of time, for you have been able to save many lives. The thought must make you very happy."
"Well, I don't know that it does, particularly," Walter said carelessly. "Of course, I was glad at the time, but I have not thought much about it one way or the other, since. You see, the news that has come has driven everything else out of our heads."
"Is it true, then, the report that we heard yesterday, that William of Orange has set out for England?"
"Yes, it is true enough; and I am afraid, by what I hear, that it is likely to cause all sorts of troubles."
"I suppose," John said gravely; "and of course, in this matter my people think differently from yours. You know we agreed that we would never talk on these subjects, but I am afraid the time is coming when there will be nothing else to be talked of."
"I am afraid so, too, John. My father thinks that there will be civil war again."
"Of course my grandfather is delighted," John said quietly. "He has been greatly disturbed in his mind, for some months, owing to the leanings of King James towards the Irish, which seem to point to his having to give up no small portion of the lands."
"We thought so too, John; and although it is your father who would lose, and mine who would gain, I don't think that even you can deny that it would be reasonable. Your grandfather got the land from mine because he fought for Cromwell against the king, and Cromwell got the best of it. Well, it seems only reasonable that, when the king again came to the throne, those who fought for him should get their own again."
"It does seem so, Walter, I must own; and I am sure I should not have cared, for myself, if the land was given back again to your father tomorrow. Then I suppose we should go back to England; and, as I know my grandfather has done well, and has laid by a good deal of money, they could take a farm there; and there would be more chance of their letting me enter upon some handicraft. I would rather that, by a great deal, than farming. All these books you have lent me, Walter, have shown me what great and noble deeds there are to be done in the world–I don't mean in fighting, you know, but in other ways. And they make the life here, toiling on the farm from sunrise to sunset, with no object save that of laying by every year more money, seem terribly empty and worthless.
"By the way, my grandfather was, yesterday evening, rating my father because, instead of always keeping me hard at work, he allowed me once or twice a week to be away for hours wasting my time–which means, though he didn't know it, going about with you. My father said stoutly that he did not think the time was altogether wasted, for that, in the last two years, I had made a notable advance in learning, and he was satisfied that I had benefited much by these intervals of recreation. Thereupon my grandfather grumbled that I was too fond of reading, and that I was filling my mind with all sorts of nonsense, whereas true wisdom was to be found in one book only.
"My father said that was true of religious wisdom, but that, for the advancement of the world, it was needed that men should learn other things. Of course, my grandfather had three or four texts ready at hand; but my father had him by saying: 'You see, father, all the commands issued to the Jews are not strictly applicable to us–for example, they were ordered not to use horses; and I do not remember that Cromwell felt that he was doing wrong, when he raised his ironsides.' That was a poser, and so the matter dropped."
Ten days later, when the boys met, John said:
"This is the last time we shall meet for some time, Walter, for I am going up to Derry to stay with a cousin of my father, who is settled there and exercises the trade of a currier. I said, some months ago, that I should like to learn a trade, but everyone was against it, then. They seemed to think that, as I should some day have the land, it was flying in the face of Providence to think of anything else. But I suppose the fact that everything is so unsettled now, and that there is no saying what may come of these events in England, may have made them think differently.
"At any rate, my father said to me yesterday: 'We have been talking over what you said, about wishing to learn a trade. If all goes on well, there is no occasion for you to learn any business save that of farming; but none can say what the Lord may not have in store for us, or what troubles may come upon us. In any case, it will do you no harm to see a little of the world outside our farm; and, therefore, your grandfather and I have settled that you shall go for a few months to my cousin, who, as you know, is a currier in Derry. He has often written, asking you to go and stay with him, seeing that he has no children of his own. Learn what you can of his business; and if it should be that you find it more to your liking than farming, I should not be one to hold you back from following the bent of your inclinations.
"'But this is between ourselves. My father's ideas on these subjects you know, and it would cause much trouble, did he think that you had any idea of not following in the path in which he and I have trod. But to me it seems better that each should go on the path towards which his mind is turned–that is, when he has made quite sure, after long reflection and prayer, that it is no idle whim but a settled earnest desire. If, then, after your visit to your uncle, you feel that you are truly called to follow a life other than that you would lead here, I shall not oppose you. The Lord has blessed our labours. The land is fertile, and I can well provide the moneys that will be needful to start you, either in business with my cousin, or in such way as may appear best.'
"I thanked him gravely, but indeed, Walter, I had difficulty in restraining myself from shouting with joy, for a life like that of my father and grandfather here would be very grievous to me. I have no desire to gain greater wealth than we have, but I long for a higher life than this."
"I don't know, John," Walter said doubtfully. "Unless, as you say, these troubles make a difference, you will be a large landowner some day; and these bitternesses will die out in time, and you will take a very different position from that which your grandfather holds. Of course, we regard him as a usurper, but you know, in the third generation the grandson of a usurper becomes a legitimate monarch. My ancestors usurped the land from the native Irish by the sword, just as your grandfather did from us; but we came, in time, to be regarded as the natural lords of the soil,