Chapter I: Tom Is Introduced

NORTON ISLAND was two miles and a half from the pretty watering-place of Dixtown; it was a point of interest to visitors to the latter place, who enjoyed sailing across the bay to picnic there, when the day was calm and the sun shone brightly. It had lofty cliffs, which terminated here and there in abrupt points, deep caves, and picturesque coves. The view from the back of the island commanded a wide expanse of ocean, and was so wild that the sea-birds built their nests in the crannies of the rock, choosing such dangerous places that only daring lads like Tom Gillies and his friend Dick Potter attempted to plunder them of their eggs.

One large mansion and farm, belonging to Mr. Pender, the proprietor of the limestone quarries, and the cottages where the people who worked for him and a few fishermen dwelt, made up the sum of the habitations on Norton Island, save the schoolhouse, where an old spinster lived rent-free. She was a fairly-educated woman, who had once served in Mr. Pender's family, and that gentleman allowed her an annual stipend for teaching the children of the men he employed.

Norton Island was rather celebrated for its limestone quarries. Many vessels anchored in the roadstead during the year, waiting for cargo, whilst it also afforded a harbour in time of storm. It boasted no place of worship; occasionally divine service was held in the schoolroom on Sunday afternoon, and in that case a great bell sounded for half an hour before it commenced, in order to summon the villagers.

The Gillies family, with the exception of the eldest daughter Sally, turned a deaf ear to the call. Mrs. Gillies contended that Sunday was designed for poor people to spend in idleness. "We work right away for six days," she said, "and it's hard if we can't rest on the seventh." Certainly she was an industrious woman so far as the concerns of this world were involved; but she had to learn that honouring God was paramount, and that, if she served Him, she would better fulfil her duties to her family, and to all mankind.

Mr. Gillies had lived on Norton Island for twenty-five years. He settled there soon after his marriage, and had worked in the limestone quarries ever since. He had a hard struggle to live while his children were young, but, when our story opens, his four eldest sons helped substantially to maintain the home. They rented the cottage adjoining their father's; and though the eldest, Harry, was soon to be married, the other three were doing so well, they intended occupying it as before.

It was customary for the women to sell prawns in Dixtown. When Sally Gillies was old enough to cook the dinner, her mother undertook this business, and rather enjoyed the many journeys to and from Norton Island it entailed.

One beautiful afternoon in August she returned home after having disposed of her basket of prawns satisfactorily. She was particularly happy over her day's work, for two reasons:—The first was, that she had sold her fish well; and the second, that she had made an arrangement for one of her sons.

"I've been and gone and done it, Tom," she said, as she entered the cottage and threw down her basket.

"Done what?" questioned a boy of fourteen, who was standing idly by the window.

"Got you a situation," answered his mother. "To-morrow-week you go to Miss Pringle. You'll have to run errands, clean out the shop, and look after the bakehouse, and, what's more, have done with your idle vagabond habits. You're no good to your father nor me; we can't do nothing with you. You won't work regular at any time, and Dick Potter will be your ruin at last. He does his duty sometimes, but you never will stick to anything but catching crabs and hunting the rocks."

"What's Miss Pringle going to give Tom, mother?" asked Sally, a girl of sixteen, who was darning a coarse sock.

"He's to have his board for the first six months, and afterwards she'll give him a shilling a week besides. And she says, Tom, you may come home now and then of a Saturday night, and back again of a Sunday night, when the boys have the boat convenient. I'm sure you ought to be glad to have another chance; and you may thank Miss Pringle for taking you, when she knows well enough what a troublesome fellow she'll have to deal with."

"I'd just as soon be a baker's boy as stay here to be found fault with by you and father," answered Tom, sullenly. "Nobody thinks I can do right. I'm sure I'd stick to the prawning or quarrying if you'd let me; but there's too many at home, and you want to get rid of me."

"That's not true, lad," said Mr. Gillies, a tall, rough-looking man, who entered the room at this moment. "You know you won't work steadily, and that it all ends in talk with you. Dick Potter will ruin you, and you will ruin him; and the sooner you're separated the better. I'm quite tired of hearing complaints from one and the other; this island is too small to hold two such boys. I'm glad for you to go away; if any one can manage you, Miss Pringle can."

"I ain't no worse than others, father," replied Tom. "I'd do better if you'd be kind to me. I never was a favourite at home, and never shall be. Sally is the only one who ever speaks civilly to me. Ask her if I'm a bad brother to her."

Mrs. Gillies glanced at her daughter, but as the latter made no reply, she continued the conversation.

"Your father speaks as he finds you, Tom," she said. "Even Mr. Pander has given you up; he thinks you'll behave better among strangers; and yet he's promised to take Dick Potter on, the first opening that comes."

"And so he may for all I care," muttered the boy. "I'm ready to be off to Miss Pringle to-morrow if you like. I'm sure, with such a lot of children about, there isn't much to make me want to stay here."

"You're an ungrateful rascal," said Mr. Gillies; and the lad would have received a heavy blow, had he not twisted round and made good his retreat through the open door.

Tom was not far wrong when he said there were too many at home for comfort. Mr. and Mrs. Gillies had eleven children. Harry and Will, the two eldest, were fishermen, and owned a boat between them; Ned and James worked with their father in the limestone quarries; Sally came next, then Tom, and five young children.

Tom ran as fast as his legs would carry him until he reached the edge of the cliff, then he scrambled down to a favourite cave, where he and Dick Potter had concocted their plans for many a day, and plotted mischievous schemes which gained for these boys so bad a name on the island. Tom under different training would have been a better boy. He was extremely generous, very passionate, intensely mischievous, and easily led. Dick Potter, on the other hand, had no redeeming qualities; he excited Tom to acts of daring which the latter would not have thought of, and he always took care to be on the safe side himself.

Tom had so often been in the wrong that his father and mother looked upon him as the black sheep of the family, and never gave him credit for doing well. The boy hardened under this treatment, and grew reckless. To his sister Sally he was rarely rude or unkind; but her character was scarcely matured enough to guide him, though she did her best to induce her brother to relinquish any wild scheme that came to her knowledge, and would, she knew, bring him into punishment if carried out.

Tom sat in the cave and threw pebbles into the water; the tide was rising so that he could not search after crabs, and unless Dick came soon he would have to abandon his position, for the water rolled so nearly up to him. In fact, he was on the point of retreating, when a long low whistle announced that his companion was near.

"You're later than usual, Dick," called out Tom.

"You mean you're earlier."

"Well, I suppose I am. There ain't much to tempt me to stay at home. Now I remember, I came without my tea. But Sally will look after me. I've got something to tell you, Dick."

"Well, speak up; what is it?"

"First let's get out of our cave to higher ground; the tide's coming in."

The boys scrambled on to a jutting point of rock—another favourite place they had—and sat down again.

"What's up?" asked Dick.

"I'm going to live with Miss Pringle. I shall have to help in the bakehouse, run errands, and sweep out the shop."

Dick whistled.

"What do you think of it?" asked Tom.

"Why, that you won't be there a month. Miss Pringle's a dreadfully difficult woman to please, I've heard."

"Anything is better than staying at home," said Tom.

"I don't think so," replied Dick.

"It's different with you and me. I'm not wanted here; and though the bakehouse will be hot after so much fresh air, I'd rather be stewed than told every minute in the day that I'm a good-for-nothing fellow."

"You'll never stay, I tell you."

"Is that all you have to say, Dick? You ain't a bit sorry I'm going," said Tom, as if hurt at his companion's carelessness.

"Of course I'm sorry. I shall lose my best friend," replied Dick; "and mind, Tom, I shall always be ready to help you. And now we won't talk any more about your leaving Norton Island, for there's to be a splendid shooting at the quarry in half an hour. Let's go over and watch it."

The boys started at once, and were in time to see a great blasting of the rock, which generally took place when most of the men had finished their day's work.