My Strange Rescue — Harold's Lasting Impression

Frank never told him.

Indeed he never told anybody except his mother, and she alone of all the people who witnessed it knew the secret of Frank Brookfield's sudden collapse in the swimming match at the Arm.

*HAROLD'S LASTING IMPRESSION.

* "Harold, Harold, Harold!"

cried Mrs. Owen, at the top of her clear, strong voice, her anxiety increasing as no answer came back.

"Mercy on me!

what can have become of that boy?

As sure as anything, he has gone down to the wharf again--and after all that I have said to him too.

I

do wish something would make a lasting impression upon him."

And with a feeling of uneasiness she could not shake off, the troubled mother went back to her house-work, sighing over her boy's disobedience.

Now Harold Owen was not really a bad boy.

He loved his mother dearly, and always felt sorry when he had grieved her; but he was such a thoughtless little chap.

Eight years old last October; stout, cheery, and brave; full to overflowing of animal spirits; eager to do everything he saw the older boys doing, and always wanting to be with them; quite as heedless and forgetful as he was affectionate and obliging, sturdy little Hal was just the kind of boy to make a mother whose only child he was no less anxious than proud about him.

And in these lovely summer days, when nobody wanted to be indoors between daylight and dark, except to eat their meals, poor Mrs. Owen had her hands full in trying to keep track of her son, who would stray off in spite of her orders to stay near home.

You see, Harold did not just mean to flatly disobey his mother.

For days together he would do exactly what she told him, and make her very happy.

But every now and then some of the boys in the neighbourhood--Jack Hardie, perhaps, or Frank Lawson--would come along, and get talking with Hal over the garden fence; and as sure as they did, it ended in the little fellow's forgetting all about his mother's commands, and going off to the wharves, where sometimes he stayed so long as to give his mother quite a fright.

That was exactly what had happened this glorious July morning, when Mrs. Owen, missing her boy's shouts from the front garden, ran out to the door, her bare arms all white with flour, for she had been making a cake, and called "Harold, Harold, Harold!"

so loud that you might have heard her half-way down to the wharves.

If, indeed, she could have been heard all the way down, perhaps her call might have brought Harold back;

and in that case he should not have got his lasting impression, and I would have had no story to tell.

But just at this time our little man was altogether too much taken up with what Jack Hardie was telling him to hear anything less noisy than a steam-engine.

"I'll bet my boots, Hal, you never saw such a funny little chap in your life.

He is about as big as our baby, but nothing like so fat, and he has long hair all over him--over his face too--and he jumps around, and talks away at the fellows, and sits up on his hind legs to eat nuts and crackers.

Oh, I tell you he's lots of fun!"

[Illustration: RESCUER AND RESCUED.

--_See page_ 183. ] This was part of Jack's account of a very interesting monkey belonging to the black cook of a large ship then at the wharf; and it was the promise of showing him this monkey--what eight-year-old boy could resist such a temptation?

--that had lured Hal away from home.

Down to the wharf they ran as fast as their legs could carry them, and there they found half-a-dozen other youngsters much about their own age, all evidently bent on the same errand.

The stately _Roseneath_ lay right across the end of the wharf, and was being fed with long, yellow, sweet-smelling deals that would make houses in England some day.

The boys stood for a while watching the huge planks sliding through the bow-ports into the dark mysterious hold, and then there was a general rush for the stern, where they expected to find the rope-ladder by which they would climb on board.

But, much to their disappointment, no ladder could they see, and no way of climbing up except a thick rope that dangled over the side, reaching quite down to the wharf; the truth of the matter being that the sailors, getting rather tired of the boys' frequent invasions, had taken away the ladder and put the rope in its place, thinking thus to put a stop to their coming on board.

The tide was high, and the great black hull of the ship towered above the wharf like the side of a house.

The boys looked pretty blank at first; but then you know it takes a good deal to stop an enterprising boy when his heart is set on anything; and presently, after a little talk together, Jack Hardie said he would see if he couldn't shin up the rope.

So he clasped the rope tight in his brown fists, twined his strong legs around it, and up he went, not very fast, to be sure, but gaining a bit at every wriggle, until at last he reached the bulwarks, and the boys gave him a cheer as he called out, "Come along, fellows; it's not so hard; you can all do it."

Frank Lawson tried next, and he got up all right.

Then Charley Wright followed.

And now Master Harold thought he would try his luck.

So, too, did Jim Norton; and when Harold got the rope first, it made Jim so cross that, like the rough, heedless chap he was, he gave Hal an angry push just as the little man had let go from the wharf, and was clinging to the rope.

Of course, Jim did not really mean any harm, but he came pretty near doing dreadful harm all the same; for his push was such a hard one that it loosened unlucky little Hal's hold upon the rope, and with a cry of fright down he dropped between the vessel and the wharf, falling with a great splash into the dark green water.

Poor little Hal!

you may well wish you had not disobeyed your mother's orders, for now there is small chance of your ever being able to disobey them again.

The tide had begun to run out, and although Harold struggled up to the surface twice, so that his terrified playmates caught a glimpse of his pale, frightened face for a moment, the cruel current dragged him down again, and the horrid salt water rushed into his mouth, as he opened it to cry for help.

His father had given him some lessons in swimming that summer, and he tried to put them in practice now, striking out bravely with his plump fists and sturdy legs;

but of course such swimming as that could not help him, and he sank deeper and deeper.

Then at last he gave up trying to save himself.

He lost all sense of suffering, and as he drifted passively away with the current, a strange thing happened to him--something that he will never forget, though he lives a hundred years--and it was this: all his past life appeared before his mind in a series of pictures, in fact, just like the panorama of the American rebellion he had enjoyed the winter before.

All his doings, good and bad, but more particularly the bad ones, seemed to come up clearly before him, and as he saw what a naughty, thoughtless boy he had been, he felt sorry enough never to disobey his dear, fond mother again.

But wasn't it too late now?

* * * * * What!

up in the sunshine once more, and sitting on the solid yellow deals, with his companions crowding round him, laughing and crying, and patting him on the back, and acting so comically, while all the time the water is dripping down off his clothes, and making a puddle at his feet, and he does feel so uncomfortable underneath his blouse.

And who is the big strong man standing near, just as wet as himself, and looking at him with his handsome bronzed face full of pride and pleasure?

And isn't that father coming down the wharf as hard as he can run, with face so white that he looks like a ghost?

Bewildered little Hal couldn't at first understand what it all meant;

and when his father, catching him up in his arms, pressed him passionately to his breast, the little man just burst out crying, and hid his wet face on his father's shoulder.

In this fashion he went back home, the boys following in a triumphal procession.

An hour afterwards, when Master Harold had got rid of the uncomfortable feeling under his blouse, and put on a warm, dry suit of clothes, Jack Hardie told him how, when he fell plump into the water, the boys had all shouted out for help; and how the mate of the _Roseneath_ had sprung out of his cabin at the first cry, and, directed by Jack, without waiting even to take off his coat, had dived right down into the deep, dark water: how he had come up once without finding Hal, and, after taking breath, had gone down a second time in search of him; how he had hunted around in the water until at last, seeing something black below him, he had stretched down his leg, and his toe catching Hal under the chin, the gallant mate drew him up into his arms, and then made for the daylight;

and how, when Harold first came out of the water, he seemed to be dead, but in a few minutes came to life again, and sat up, blinking his eyes like a young baby.

All this, and more too, did Jack Hardie, proud of having such an audience--for, besides Mr. and Mrs. Owen, a dozen or more of the neighbours had run in to hear all about it--relate with great gusto.

And as Harold realized how very near he had come to losing his life, and looked into his darling mother's face streaming with tears of joy and gratitude, which but for the brave sailor would have been tears of bitter sorrow, he gathered up his little features into a most determined expression, and said,-- "Mother, I'll never disobey you again."

Thus did his mother get her wish, and Master Harold his lasting impression, which many a time saved him from falling again into disobedience.