Chapter One.

A Family Council.

“I say, Uncle Dick, do tell me what sort of a place it is.”

“Oh, you’ll see when you get there!”

“Uncle Jack, you tell me then; what’s it like?”

“Like! What, Arrowfield? Ask Uncle Bob.”

“There, Uncle Bob, I’m to ask you. Do tell me what sort of a place it is?”

“Get out, you young nuisance!”

“What a shame!” I said. “Here are you three great clever men, who know all about it; you’ve been down half a dozen times, and yet you won’t answer a civil question when you are asked.”

I looked in an ill-used way at my three uncles, as they sat at the table covered with papers; and except that one would be a little darker than the other, I could not help thinking how very much they were alike, and at the same time like my father, only that he had some grey coming at the sides of his head. They were all big fine-looking men between thirty and forty, stern enough when they were busy, but wonderfully good-tempered and full of fun when business was over; and I’m afraid they spoiled me.

When, as I say, business was over, they were ready for anything with me, and though I had a great feeling of reverence, almost dread, for my father, my three big uncles always seemed to me like companions, and they treated me as if I were their equal.

Cricket! Ah! Many’s the game we’ve had together. They’d take me fishing, and give me the best pitch, and see that I caught fish if they did not.

Tops, marbles, kite-flying, football; insect and egg collecting; geology, botany, chemistry; they were at home with all, and I shared in the game or pursuit as eagerly as they.

I’ve known the time when they’d charge into the room at Canonbury, where I was busy with the private tutor—for I did not go to school—with “Mr Headley, Mr Russell would like to speak to you;” and as soon as he had left the room, seize hold of me, and drag me out of my chair with, “Come along, Cob: work’s closed for the day. Country!”

Then away we’d go for a delicious day’s collecting, or something of the kind.

They used to call it slackening their bands, and mine.

Time had glided on very happily till I was sixteen, and there was some talk of my being sent to a great engineer’s establishment for five or six years to learn all I could before being taken on at our own place in Bermondsey, where Russell and Company carried on business, and knocked copper and brass and tin about, and made bronze, and gun-metal, and did a great deal for other firms with furnaces, and forges, and steam-engines, wheels, and lathes.

My father was “Russell”—Alexander—and Uncle Dick, Uncle Jack, and Uncle Bob were “Company.” The business, as I say, was in Bermondsey, but we lived together and didn’t live together at Canonbury.

That sounds curious, but I’ll explain:—We had two houses next door to each other. Captain’s quarters, and the barracks.

My father’s house was the Captain’s quarters, where I lived with my mother and sister. The next door, where my uncles were, they called the barracks, where they had their bedrooms and sitting-room; but they took all their meals at our table.

As I said before things had gone on very happily till I was sixteen—a big sturdy ugly boy.

Uncle Dick said I was the ugliest boy he knew.

Uncle Jack said I was the most stupid.

Uncle Bob said I was the most ignorant.

But we were the best of friends all the same.

And now after a great deal of discussion with my father, and several visits, my three uncles were seated at the table, and I had asked them about Arrowfield, and you have read their answers.

I attacked them again.

“Oh, I say,” I cried, “don’t talk to a fellow as if he were a little boy! Come, Uncle Dick, what sort of a place is Arrowfield?”

“Land of fire.”

“Oh!” I cried. “Is it, Uncle Jack?”

“Land of smoke.”

“Land of fire and smoke!” I cried excitedly. “Uncle Bob, are they making fun of me?”

“Land of noise, and gloom, and fog,” said Uncle Bob. “A horrible place in a hole.”

“And are we going there?”

“Don’t know,” said Uncle Bob. “Wait and see.”

They went on with their drawings and calculations, and I sat by the fire in the barrack room, that is, in their sitting-room, trying to read, but with my head in a whirl of excitement about Arrowfield, when my father came in, laid his hand on my head, and turned to my uncles.

“Well, boys,” he said, “how do you bring it in? What’s to be done?”

“Sit down, and let’s settle it, Alick,” said Uncle Dick, leaning back and spreading his big beard all over his chest.

“Ah, do!” cried Uncle Jack, rubbing his curly head.

“Once and for all,” said Uncle Bob, drawing his chair forward, stooping down, taking up his left leg and holding it across his right knee.

My father drew forward an easy-chair, looking very serious, and resting his hand on the back before sitting down, he said without looking at me:

“Go to your mother and sister, Jacob.”

I rose quickly, but with my forehead wrinkling all over, and I turned a pitiful look on my three uncles.

“What are you going to send him away for?” said Uncle Dick.

“Because this is not boys’ business.”

“Oh, nonsense!” said Uncle Jack. “He’ll be as interested in it as we are.”

“Yes, let him stop and hear,” said Uncle Bob.

“Very good. I’m agreeable,” said my father. “Sit down, Jacob.”

I darted a grateful look at my uncles, spreading it round so that they all had a glance, and dropped back into my seat.

“Well,” said my father, “am I to speak?”

“Yes.”

This was in chorus; and my father sat thinking for a few minutes, during which I exchanged looks and nods with my uncles, all of which was very satisfactory.

“Well,” said my father at last, “to put it in short, plain English, we four have each our little capital embarked in our works.”

Here there were three nods.

“We’ve all tried everything we knew to make the place a success, but year after year goes by and we find ourselves worse off. In three more bad years we shall be ruined.”

“And Jacob will have to set to work and keep us all,” said Uncle Dick.

My father looked round at me and nodded, smiling sadly, and I could see that he was in great trouble.

“Here is our position, then, boys: Grandison and Company are waiting for our answer in Bermondsey. They’ll buy everything as it stands at a fair valuation; that’s one half. The other is: the agents at Arrowfield are waiting also for our answer about the works to let there.”

Here he paused for a few moments and then went on:

“We must look the matter full in the face. If we stay as we are the trade is so depreciating that we shall be ruined. If we go to Arrowfield we shall have to begin entirely afresh; to fight against a great many difficulties; the workmen there are ready to strike, to turn upon you and destroy.”

Uncle Dick made believe to spit in his hands.

“To commit outrages.”

Uncle Jack tucked up his sleeves.

“And ratten and blow up.”

Uncle Bob half took off his coat.

“In short, boys, we shall have a terribly hard fight; but there is ten times the opening there, and we may make a great success. That is our position, in short,” said my father. “What do you say?”

My three uncles looked hard at him and then at one another, seemed to read each other’s eyes, and turned back to him.

“You’re oldest, Alick, and head of the firm,” said Uncle Dick; “settle it.”

“No,” said my father, “it shall be settled by you three.”

“I know what I think,” said Uncle Jack; “but I’d rather you’d say.”

“My mind’s made up,” said Uncle Bob, “but I don’t want to be speaker. You settle it, Alick.”

“No,” said my father; “I have laid the case before you three, who have equal stakes in the risk, and you shall settle the matter.”

There was a dead silence in the room, which was so still that the sputtering noise made by the big lamp and the tinkle of a few cinders that fell from the fire sounded painfully loud. They looked at each other, but no one spoke, till Uncle Dick had fidgeted about in his chair for some time, and then, giving his big beard a twitch, he bent forward.

I heard my other uncles sigh as if they were relieved, and they sat back farther in their seats listening for what Uncle Dick, who was the eldest, might wish to say.

“Look here,” he cried at last.

Everybody did look there, but saw nothing but Uncle Dick, who kept tugging at one lock of his beard, as if that was the string that would let loose a whole shower-bath of words.

“Well!” he said, and there was another pause.

“Here,” he cried, as if seized by a sudden fit of inspiration, “let’s hear what Cob has to say.”

“Bravo! Hear, hear, hear!” cried my two uncles in chorus, and Uncle Dick smiled and nodded and looked as if he felt highly satisfied with himself; while I, with a face that seemed to be all on fire, jumped up excitedly and cried:

“Let’s all go and begin again.”

“That’s it—that settles it,” cried Uncle Bob.

“Yes, yes,” said Uncle Dick and Uncle Jack. “He’s quite right. We’ll go.”

Then all three beat upon the table with book and pencil and compasses, and cried, “Hear, hear, hear!” while I shrank back into my chair, and felt half ashamed of myself as I glanced at my father and wondered whether he was angry on account of what I had proposed.

“That is settled then,” he said quietly. “Jacob has been your spokesman; and now let me add my opinion that you have taken the right course. What I propose is this, that one of us stays and carries on the business here till the others have got the Arrowfield affair in full swing. Who will stay?”

There was no answer.

“Shall I?” said my father.

“Yes, if you will,” they chorused.

“Very good,” said my father. “I am glad to do so, for that will give me plenty of time to make arrangements for Jacob here.”

“But he must go with us,” said Uncle Dick.

“Yes, of course,” said Uncle Jack.

“Couldn’t go without him.”

“But his education as an engineer?”

“Now, look here, Alick,” said Uncle Dick, “don’t you think he’ll learn as much with us down at the new works as in any London place?”

My father sat silent and thoughtful, while I watched the play of his countenance and trembled as I saw how he was on the balance. For it would have been terrible to me to have gone away now just as a new life of excitement and adventure was opening out.

“Do you really feel that you would like Jacob to go with you?” said my father at last.

There was a unanimous “Yes!” at this, and my heart gave a jump.

“Well, then,” said my father, “he shall go.”

That settled the business, except a general shaking of hands, for we were all delighted, little thinking, in our innocence, of the troubles, the perils, and the dangers through which we should have to go.

Chapter Two.

A Fiery Place.

No time was lost. The agreements were signed, and Uncle Dick packed up his traps, as he called them, that is to say, his books, clothes, and models and contrivances, so as to go down at once, take possession of the works, and get apartments for us.

I should have liked to go with him, but I had to stay for another week, and then, after a hearty farewell, we others started, my father, mother, and sister seeing us off by rail; and until I saw the trees, hedges, and houses seeming to fly by me I could hardly believe that we were really on our way.

Of course I felt a little low-spirited at leaving home, and I was a little angry with myself for seeming to be so glad to get away from those who had been so patient and kind, but I soon found myself arguing that it would have been just the same if I had left home only to go to some business place in London. Still I was looking very gloomy when Uncle Jack clapped me on the shoulder, and asked me if I didn’t feel like beginning to be a man.

“No,” I said sadly, as I looked out of the window at the flying landscape, so that he should not see my face. “I feel more as if I was beginning to be a great girl.”

“Nonsense!” said Uncle Bob; “you’re going to be a man now, and help us.”

“Am I?” said I sadly.

“To be sure you are. There, put that gloomy face in your pocket and learn geography.”

They both chatted to me, and I felt a little better, but anything but cheerful, for it was my first time of leaving home. I looked at the landscape, and the towns and churches we passed, but nothing seemed to interest me till, well on in my journey, I saw a sort of wooden tower close to the line, with a wheel standing half out of the top. There was an engine-house close by—there was no doubt about it, for I could see the puffs of white steam at the top, and a chimney. There was a great mound of black slate and rubbish by the end; but even though the railway had a siding close up to it, and a number of trucks were standing waiting, I did not realise what the place was till Uncle Jack said:

“First time you’ve seen a coal-pit, eh?”

“Is that a coal-pit?” I said, looking at the place more eagerly.

“Those are the works. Of course you can’t see the shaft, because that’s only like a big square well.”

“But I thought it would be a much more interesting place,” I said.

“Interesting enough down below; but of course there is nothing to see at the top but the engine, cage, and mouth of the shaft.”

That brightened me up at once. There was something to think about in connection with a coal-mine—the great deep shaft, the cage going up and down, the miners with their safety-lamps and picks. I saw it all in imagination as we dashed by another and another mine. Then I began to think about the accidents of which I had read; when men unfastened their wire-gauze lamps, so that they might do that which was forbidden in a mine, smoke their pipes. The match struck or the opened lamp set fire to the gas, when there was an awful explosion, and after that the terrible dangers of the after-damp, that fearful foul air which no man could breathe for long and live.

There were hundreds of thoughts like this to take my attention as we raced on by the fast train till, to my surprise, I found that it was getting dark, and the day had passed.

“Here we are close to it,” said Uncle Jack; “look, my lad.”

I gazed out of the window on our right as the train glided on, to see the glare as of a city on fire: the glow of a dull red flickered and danced upon the dense clouds that overhung the place. Tall chimneys stood up like black stakes or posts set up in the reflection of open furnace doors. Here a keen bright light went straight up through the smoke with the edges exactly defined—here it was a sharp glare, there a dull red glow, and everywhere there seemed to be fire and reflection, and red or golden smoke mingled with a dull throbbing booming sound, which, faintly heard at first, grew louder and louder as the train slackened speed, and the pant and pulsation of the engine ceased.

“Isn’t something dreadful the matter?” I said, as I gazed excitedly from the window.

“Matter!” said Uncle Jack laughing.

“Yes, isn’t the place on fire? Look! Look! There there!”

I pointed to a fierce glare that seemed to reach up into the sky, cutting the dense cloud like millions of golden arrows shot from some mighty engine all at once.

“Yes, I see, old fellow,” said Uncle Jack. “They have just tapped a furnace, and the molten metal is running into the moulds, that’s all.”

“But the whole town looks as if it were in a blaze,” I said nervously.

“So did our works sometimes, didn’t they? Well, here we are in a town where there are hundreds upon hundreds of works ten times as big as ours. Nearly everybody is either forging, or casting, or grinding. The place is full of steam-engines, while the quantity of coal that is burnt here every day must be prodigious. Aha! Here’s Uncle Dick.”

He had caught sight of us before we saw him, and threw open the carriage-door ready to half haul us out, as he shook hands as if we had not met for months.

“That’s right,” he cried. “I am glad you’ve come. I’ve a cab waiting. Here, porter, lay hold of this baggage. Well, Cob, what do you think of Arrowfield?”

“Looks horrible,” I said in the disappointed tones of one who is tired and hungry.

“Yes, outside,” said Uncle Dick; “but wait till you see the inside.”

Uncle Dick was soon standing in what he called the inside of Arrowfield—that is to say the inside of the comfortable furnished lodgings he had taken right up a hill, where, over a cosy tea-table with hot country cakes and the juiciest of hot mutton chops, I soon forgot the wearisome nature of our journey, and the dismal look of the town.

“Eat away, my boys,” cried Uncle Dick. “Yeat, as they call it here. The place is all right; everything ready for work, and we’ll set to with stout hearts, and make up for lost time.”

“When do we begin, uncle—to-morrow?”

“No, no: not till next Monday morning. To-morrow we’ll have a look over the works, and then we’ll idle a bit—have a few runs into the country round, and see what it’s like.”

“Black dismal place,” I said dolefully.

“Says he’s tired out and wants to go to bed,” said Uncle Jack, giving his eye a peculiar cock at his brothers.

“I didn’t,” I cried.

“Not in words, my fine fellow, but you looked it.”

“Then I won’t look so again,” I cried. “I say, don’t talk to me as if I were a little boy to be sent to bed.”

“Well, you’re not a man yet, Cob. Is he, boys?”

Uncle Dick was in high spirits, and he took up a candle and held it close to my cheek.

“What’s the matter?” I said. “Is it black? I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Not a bit, Cob,” he said seriously. “You can’t even see a bit of the finest down growing.”

“Oh, I say,” I cried, “it’s too bad! I don’t pretend to be a man at sixteen; but now I’ve come down here to help you in the new works, you oughtn’t to treat me as if I were a little boy.”

“Avast joking!” said Uncle Dick quietly, for the comely landlady came in to clear away the tea-things, and she had just finished when there was a double knock at the front door.

We heard it opened, and a deep voice speaking, and directly after the landlady came in with a card.

“Mr Tomplin, gentlemen,” she said. “He’s at the door, and I was to say that if it was inconvenient for you to see him to-night, perhaps you would call at his office when you were down the town.”

“Oh, ask him in, Mrs Stephenson,” cried Uncle Dick; and as she left the room—“it’s the solicitor to whom I brought the letter of introduction from the bank.”

It was a short dark man in black coat and waistcoat and pepper-and-salt trousers who was shown in. He had little sharp eyes that seemed to glitter. So did his hair, which was of light-grey, and stood up all over his head as if it was on white fire. He had not a particle of hair on his face, which looked as if he was a very good customer to the barber.

He shook hands very heartily with all of us, nodding pleasantly the while; and when he sat down he took out a brown-and-yellow silk handkerchief and blew his nose like a horn.

“Welcome to Yorkshire, gentlemen!” he said. “My old friends at the bank send me a very warm letter of recommendation about you, and I’m at your service. Professional consultations at the usual fee, six and eight or thirteen and four, according to length. Friendly consultations—Thank you, I’m much obliged. This is a friendly consultation. Now what can I do for you?”

He looked round at us all, and I felt favourably impressed. So did my uncles, as Uncle Dick answered for all.

“Nothing at present, sir. By and by we shall be glad to come to you for legal and friendly advice too.”

“That’s right,” said Mr Tomplin. “You’ve taken the Rivulet Works, I hear.”

“Yes, down there by the stream.”

“What are you going to do?—carry on the old forging and grinding?”