THE LITTLE PRINCE

What was that noise? Pat sat up in bed to listen; and as he did so, he began to wonder where he was, and what had happened; for he had an impression that there was something strange in the way the light fell on the wall, and in his mind there was a feeling that some great event had taken place which he could not at that moment recall; and then, what was that noise in the living-room? It was for all the world like the sound of a little child laughing and prattling; but how had any child come to Lone Rock in the night?... And then all in a moment, like a flash, it came back to Pat—all the events of the night of the storm, the dismasted ship, the little boy lashed to the spar, Jim's heroic attempt to save the child—everything that had occurred up to the time he had let his mother put him to bed in broad daylight. It was daylight again now. He knew by the place the sun had got to on the wall that it was not only day, but afternoon. He thought for a moment that it was the afternoon of the day on which he had gone to bed; but he soon found out that it was the day following that one. He had slept for more than twenty-four hours, as little folks will sometimes do when they have been through great fatigue and excitement; and now he waked up as fresh as a lark, and full of eager curiosity about the new inmate of the lighthouse.

He slipped out of bed, and into his clothes as fast as possible, and then stepped softly across the floor, and peeped into the next room. He wanted to see the little stranger before he was himself seen. He wanted to have a good look at him, and in this he was not disappointed.

The living-room looked very neat and trim. All the disorder and mess which had been brought in the previous day was cleared away. The table was spread for a meal, and Eileen herself was sitting comfortably in her rocking-chair, with a laughing little boy perched upon her knee, laughing and crowing lustily at the movement of the chair. He was a great many years younger than Pat—this little waif of the ocean—perhaps not more than four years old. He had quantities of soft yellow hair, that floated round his head like a cloud, all curly and pretty; and his skin was like a peach in its soft bloom and pretty rich colour. He had big dark eyes that seemed full of sunshine, and when he laughed his little teeth looked like pearls. Pat thought he had never seen such a wonderful and lovely little boy before. He himself was not handsome, though he had a dear little shrewd intelligent face of his own, and a pair of pretty grey eyes like his mother's. Indeed, Pat had never before troubled his head as to whether people were pretty or the reverse; but the beauty of this child struck him as something so wonderful, that he could not help noticing it, and rejoicing in it. He had not thought about it in that strange night when the little guest had been brought in, looking like a marble image on a church monument. It was hard to believe that this could be the same being; and yet, of course, it must be. He came slowly forward, almost timidly, feeling as though he must apologise for his intrusion to this fairy prince.

His mother looked up, and greeted his appearance with a smile.

"Well, honey, quite rested after your vigil? That is right. And if you are up, will you mind the little boy whilst I get the tea? We have been living a strange life these past two days, and I scarce know what to call the meals; but father will like some tea when he comes down; and Jim, may be, will take a cup, too. Poor fellow! I wish we could get a doctor to him, but I'm afraid there'll be small chance of that for a week or more. The sea will run so high after the storm, though the wind does seem to be going down at last."

For the moment Pat was too much engrossed with this wonderful little boy to heed even what his mother said of Jim. He was standing on his own feet now, where Eileen had set him, looking hard at Pat, as though wondering who he was, and where he had come from. He was dressed in a little old suit of Pat's clothes, which was many sizes too big for him, though Pat had long outgrown them. Yet little figure of fun as he was in this respect, nothing could destroy the look of dainty finish and beauty which seemed to belong to him as by a natural inheritance, and after he had indulged in a good long stare at Pat, a smile beamed all over his face, and he remarked graciously—

"I'll play wis'oo, ickle boy. I likes to play nice dames."

Pat was his slave in a moment, begging to be allowed to crawl round the room with the little prince on his back; and as this form of entertainment was mightily to the liking of the small guest, it was carried on uninterruptedly till Nat came down from the lighthouse, and laughed aloud to see the two children thus occupied.

"What! is he turning a little tyrant already?" asked the father, as he picked up the rider, and lifted him high in the air, laughing and shouting in glee at this sudden change in the game. "So, Pat, my boy, you are awake at last! We thought you had turned into one of the seven sleepers, whoever they may be; and this young man, too, though he woke up the first, and shows he has the making of a first-rate jack-tar in him. He's none the worse for a wetting that would have made an end of any landlubber. He must be cut out for a sailor—aren't you, my hearty?"

The child laughed, and danced up and down in those strong arms, and pulled Nat's beard, and shouted with glee. He was certainly none the worse, to all appearance, for the narrow escape of his life. Eileen marvelled at him, and her faith in her herbs and simples was tenfold increased. Perhaps Nature has secrets which are better known to the humble than the learned, for surely this unlettered woman, with her store of half-superstitious lore, gleaned in her girlhood from old women who were learned in the matter of Nature's cures, had achieved a result that many a medical man would have envied her. She was proud and delighted at her own success, and could hardly believe that any child could have gone through so much, and yet be so well and hearty twenty-four hours later.

"He was never born to be drowned—the little rogue—that's plain enough!" laughed Nat, as he took his seat at table, and gave the child to his wife. "And now let me have my tea as quick as you can, for there is double work up aloft since poor Jim is laid by his heels."

Pat stood beside his father, and waited on him with assiduity.

"How is poor Jim, and what is the matter with him? May I take him his tea? He will like it, I think, if I bring it."

"I think he will, sonny. He speaks of thee more than of any other. I scarce know what is the matter. It seems like as if he had broken a rib or two, and they were pressing inwards, somehow. He can't move without pain, and sometimes can scarce draw breath. But so long as he's lying still and quiet he seems fairly comfortable like. We must get a doctor to him as soon as ever we can. I've signalled ashore that we want help; but I'm afeard it will be some days before any boat can come anigh us."

Pat took the cup of tea and slice of buttered toast his mother had made, and went carefully with it to Jim's little dark room, which was not far away.

Jim was lying propped up with pillows, and there was a curious whiteness about his weather-beaten face, and a sunken look about his cheeks, which made Pat realise in a moment that he must be very ill. His heavy eyes, however, lightened at sight of the child, and he just moved his hand along the counterpane in token of greeting.

"I've brought you some tea, Jim," he said softly; "I'm going to stop and give it you. I'm a good hand with sick folks. Mother always says so when she's ill. You needn't move or talk if you don't want to. I'll do everything for you. You've been a hero, you know, Jim; and now we must take care of you till you're well. I wonder what it feels like to be a hero? Do you feel different from what you did before that night?"

Something like the ghost of a smile passed across the man's face, and he made a slight sign of dissent. Pat saw that he could not talk much, and he contented himself with giving him the tea, and coaxing him to try and swallow just a morsel of the toast, talking to him softly the while, and telling him how well and strong and beautiful the little boy was. Jim listened with evident interest and pleasure, but speech was visibly difficult, and the only connected words he spoke were whispered just at the end before Pat went away and left him.

"I want you to read.... Just a few verses ... about Peter ... walking on the sea, ... and what the Lord said to him;" and Pat understood in a moment, and got the Bible from the table, and quickly found the place.

As he read the simple story, a happy and satisfied look passed over Jim's face, and he closed his eyes as though he were asleep. Pat put the book back, and as he did so he could not help noticing how many signs of wear it showed, considering that it was new only a few months before; and there were bits of paper tucked into so many different places. It was plain that Jim had read it a great deal. Pat thought that it must have been that which helped Jim to be a hero that stormy night. The child knew he had risked his life to save the little boy, and he loved Jim with an admiring, reverential love, quite different from his former affection.

But since there could be no conversation, he need not linger here, and he began to want his own tea, as well as the society of the beautiful little boy. Stealing from Jim's darkened room he found his way back to his mother, and there was his tea all ready for him, and the little boy enjoying his own share mightily, perched on Eileen's knee, and chattering away to her in a babbling fashion, which she seemed to understand better than Pat did all at once.

"Mother, what is his name? Can he tell us?" asked Pat eagerly; and the question being put by Eileen to the child, was received by a gurgling baby laugh, and an answer which the listening Pat barely understood.

"He calls himself Prince Rupert, by what I can make out," she said, turning with a smile to her own boy. "I've asked him again and again, for I don't know whether that isn't a pet name, not his own——"

"Oh, but, mother, why should it be? I'm sure he's a sort of little prince—one can tell it by looking at him!" cried the delighted Pat. "Prince Rupert! What a pretty name! Oh, mother, I have wanted so often to see a real live prince. Mother, are any of the Queen's children called Prince Rupert? Do you think he might be one of them?"

Eileen smiled at the simple good faith with which Pat asked this question, and also at the wonder she saw in the boy's eyes as they were turned towards the little guest, who was busily engaged in trying to reach everything upon the table, that he might better examine its properties.

"No, dear; he's a deal too young to be our Queen's son, and there isn't a Prince Rupert amongst them; but he's plainly some well-born little boy, even if he isn't a real prince; and we must try and find out who his parents are, and where he came from, so soon as a boat can come to us, when the storm is over. Somebody must be mourning him for lost; unless, indeed, those who belong to him have found a watery grave themselves. One cannot guess how he came here, except that it must have been from some vessel, either wrecked or in great peril. He has been washed overboard—that's plain enough; but whether or not the ship went down, we cannot tell. We shall have to try and learn; but he can tell us nothing, bless him. He doesn't seem even to remember much about being on a ship. It's as if the salt water had washed everything out of his pretty head."

Pat's face was full of eager excitement and purpose.

"Oh, mother!" he cried; "and if nobody comes for the little boy—if his relations have been drowned in the ship—may we keep him? May I have him for a brother? You know you've said sometimes you wished I had a brother to play with. If nobody else wants Prince Rupert, may he stay here in the lighthouse with me? I should be so very happy if I might have him always. I would take care of him. He shouldn't be any trouble to you. Oh, mother, do say yes! I do love him so very, very much!"

Eileen was smiling at her little boy's request, but she did not give him any direct answer. She set the child on his feet, and he promptly ran across to Pat with a shout of glee; and as the pair scrambled to the floor for a renewed romp together, she watched them a few minutes, and then said—

"Poor little boy; he's too young to miss his mother yet, but I fear she may be in a terrible state of fear for him if she be living, poor soul. We must not think of ourselves, little son. We must think first of others. We must send word ashore about the little boy, and the police will do all they can to find out who he is. I can't but think he was washed off yon great steamer that was labouring past us that stormy night; and both Jim and your father think and hope that she weathered her way round the point, and reached harbour safely. If that is so, we shall soon hear who little Prince Rupert really is, and his parents or friends will send for him. That will be best of all; for this would be a poor sort of a home for him to be brought up in. He's plainly been used to something very different. Princes don't live in places like this, my little son."

"No, I suppose not," answered Pat wistfully, "but I would have tried to make him so very happy!"

"Well, make him as happy as you can whilst he is here. May be it will be for a good spell yet. And never mind what happens afterwards. You will always like to think you made his visit to the lighthouse a pleasant one."

So Pat set himself with all his heart to the task of entertaining the little prince thus wonderfully cast upon his hands. It was not difficult to do this, for the wee boy was the merriest of little mortals, and took an immense liking to Pat from the very first. Very soon Pat began to understand his lisping prattle perfectly, and was delighted with his sharp observation, and little airs of baby importance and mastery. It was very plain that Prince Rupert had been used to plenty of attention and petting. He demanded both as a natural right, and soon had the submissive Pat completely under his yoke. Pat was to sit by him when he had his bath, so that he could splash him all over with the water, crowing with mischievous delight all the while. Pat was to come into the inner room, and see him go to bed, and sit beside him and tell him a tale; and of course Pat was enchanted to do this, and would have told him tales till midnight, had not his little tyrant speedily gone off to sleep, holding him fast by the hand. Pat never thought of taking his hand away. He would have sat by the little bed all night sooner than disturb his small majesty; but his mother came in and unclasped the chubby fingers, whilst she tucked the little stranger warmly up in his cot; and then Pat found that he was rather stiff and cramped, though he hardly knew then how to tear himself from the side of his new playmate.

"Isn't he beautiful, mother?" he whispered softly, as he stooped to kiss the little rose-leaf face. "Oh, mother, it must have been Jesus who sent Jim to fetch him out of the sea."

"Yes, Pat, dear, I think it must have been. Dear, bonny little lamb—he's one of the dear Lord's own little children."

"Oh, yes, mother! and Jim told me before he went that it seemed just as if the Lord had called him to go out into the sea—like as He told Peter to come to Him, you know. Jim is very fond of that story. I read it to him often. You know, mother, Jesus kept Peter from sinking in the sea, and I think He must have been with Jim, too, for the waves were so very, very strong. I thought he would never be able to reach him. But he did; and then you and father pulled him safe to shore—but I don't think you could have done it if Jesus hadn't been helping too."

"I'm sure we could not," answered Eileen with dewy eyes, as she turned away and took Pat's hand tenderly in hers. "I often think that the dear Lord is walking over the sea on stormy nights, very near indeed to those who are in peril, if they could but see Him there. And Pat, honey, did you say that Jim felt that too? Did he think that he was doing it at the bidding of the Lord Jesus?"

"Yes, mother, I am sure he did. I can't remember just what he said, but it was something very like that. I'm almost sure that Jim loves Jesus very much now. He's always reading about Him in the Bible you bought for me to give him. Why do you cry, mother? Aren't you glad that Jim is happier than he was? because I am sure he is. I think it makes everybody happy to love Jesus, and to like to know about Him, and think about Him."

"Indeed it does, my little boy," answered Eileen, bending to kiss him, "and it's thankful I am that poor Jim has come out of the darkness into the light. Go to him, Pat, and see if he is asleep, or if he is wanting anything. I must try and get the little boy's clothes mended to-night for him. They were so drenched and stained I had to wash them out in rain water, and get them well cleaned and dried. I must sit up till they are ready for him to-morrow, for I can't bear to see him running about such a little object as he is in your old things. His own mother would scarce know him, I take it. Beautiful, soft, warm clothes his own are—too good to be really hurt by their wetting. Run to Jim, dear, and see if you can do anything for him, and then come back and read to me. Father will have a long watch again to-night, and I shall sit up and take a spell with him by-and-by. We must all put our shoulder to the wheel and help him till we can get help here from shore."