With Clive in India | Page 2

scorn to shelter himself under the semblance of a lie,
and was a prime favourite with his masters, as well as his schoolfellows.
His mother bewailed the frequency with which he returned home with
blackened eyes and bruised face; for between Dr. Willet's school and
the fisher lads of Yarmouth there was a standing feud, whose origin
dated so far back that none of those now at school could trace it.

Consequently, fierce fights often took place in the narrow rows, and
sometimes the fisher boys would be driven back on to the broad quay
shaded by trees, by the river, and there being reinforced from the craft
along the side, would reassume the offensive and drive their opponents
back into the main street.
It was but six months since Charlie had lost his father, who was the
officer in command at the coast guard station, and his scanty pension
was now all that remained for the support of his widow and children.
His mother had talked his future prospects over, many times, with
Charlie. The latter was willing to do anything, but could suggest
nothing. His father had but little naval interest, and had for years been
employed on coast guard service. Charlie agreed that, although he
should have liked of all things to go to sea, it was useless to think of it
now, for he was past the age at which he could have entered as a
midshipman.
The matter had been talked over four years before, with his father; but
the latter had pointed out that a life in the navy, without interest, is in
most cases a very hard one. If a chance of distinguishing himself
happened, promotion would follow; but if not, he might be for years on
shore, starving on half pay and waiting in vain for an appointment,
while officers with more luck and better interest went over his head.
Other professions had been discussed, but nothing determined upon,
when Lieutenant Marryat suddenly died. Charlie, although an only son,
was not an only child, as he had two sisters both younger than himself.
After a few months of effort, Mrs. Marryat found that the utmost she
could hope to do, with her scanty income, was to maintain herself and
daughters, and to educate them until they should reach an age when
they could earn their own living as governesses; but that Charlie's keep
and education were beyond her resources. She had, therefore, very
reluctantly written to an uncle, whom she had not seen for many years,
her family having objected very strongly to her marriage with a
penniless lieutenant in the navy. She informed him of the loss of her
husband, and that, although her income was sufficient to maintain
herself and her daughters, she was most anxious to start her son, who

was now sixteen, in life; and therefore begged him to use his influence
to obtain for him a situation of some sort. The letter which she now
held in her hand was the answer to the appeal.
"My dear Niece," it began, "Since you, by your own foolish conduct
and opposition to all our wishes, separated yourself from your family,
and went your own way in life, I have heard little of you, as the death
of your parents so shortly afterwards deprived me of all sources of
information. I regret to hear of the loss which you have suffered. I have
already taken the necessary steps to carry out your wishes. I yesterday
dined with a friend, who is one of the directors of the Honorable East
India Company, and at my request he has kindly placed a writership in
the Company at your son's service. He will have to come up to London
to see the board, next week, and will probably have to embark for India
a fortnight later. I shall be glad if he will take up his abode with me,
during the intervening time. I shall be glad also if you will favour me
with a statement of your income and expenses, with such details as you
may think necessary. I inclose four five-pound bank notes, in order that
your son may obtain such garments as may be immediately needful for
his appearance before the board of directors, and for his journey to
London. I remain, my dear niece, yours sincerely,
"Joshua Tufton."
"It is cruel," Mrs. Marryat sobbed, "cruel to take you away from us, and
send you to India, where you will most likely die of fever, or be killed
by a tiger, or stabbed by one of those horrid natives, in a fortnight."
"Not so bad as that, Mother, I hope," Charlie said sympathizingly,
although he could not repress a smile; "other people have managed to
live out there, and have come back