In Eastern Seas | Page 6

their papa would never have let them come to the house."
"From all accounts, then, the only relation you know anything about is your father's cousin, Mr Tom Heathfield. Do you know where he lives?"
Walter thought a moment. "No," he answered; "somewhere in London, I know, and I daresay I can find out."
"Well, we must do our best to discover him when we get on shore," said the captain.
It was evident to him that the young people had not realised their thoroughly destitute condition. Whatever property their poor father might have had must have been lost in the Mountaineer. "However," he thought to himself, "if the brother's heart cannot be moved to take care of the orphans, perhaps this Mr Tom Heathfield or Lord Heatherly will do so. In the meantime, I must look after them."
The Bussorah Merchant reached the Thames in safety, and went into the docks to discharge her cargo.
"You must come with me, my young friends, till we can find out your cousin," said the kind captain. "My good wife, Mrs Davenport, will be very glad to see you, as will our little girl Grace. You must be content with such fare as we can offer, and you may be sure of a hearty welcome."
"Thank you, sir," said Walter. "Emily and I, I am sure, shall be very happy with you. Do you live in the West End of London?"
"No," answered the captain, smiling; "I live at Poplar. It is a different sort of locality; but I have had a good many losses, and am not so well off as some masters of ships. But my life has been preserved when others have lost theirs, and I retain my health and strength. I have a good wife and an affectionate little girl, and I have therefore reason to be thankful; and so I am."
Captain Davenport, as soon as he was at liberty, accompanied by his young charges, set off for his home. It differed, however, greatly from the sort of house Walter and Emily had been accustomed to live in. But it was very neat; with green palings in front, and neatly-painted shutters, and the whitest of stone steps leading up to the hall door. The captain had had no time to tell his wife of the guests she might expect. After, therefore, the first greetings between them were over, and he had embraced his little daughter Grace, Mrs Davenport naturally inquired who the young strangers were. No sooner had she heard their history than she gave an affectionate embrace to Emily.
"Yes, indeed, you are welcome here," she said; "and if you are content with this house, we shall be glad to have you remain in it. And I am sure Grace will do her best to make you at home, young lady," she said, placing the girls' hands in each other's.
The captain, of course, had a great deal to do on his first arrival after a long absence, and could not, therefore, go in search of Mr Tom Heathfield, Walter's cousin. Walter acknowledged that he was not likely to find him himself, as he had but seldom been in London, and did not know his way about. All he could tell was, that he lived somewhere in the West End, and he thought he belonged to two or three clubs.
"Very likely, young gentleman," said the captain, laughing. "However, when I can get hold of one of those books they call Court Guides, I may be able to find him."
A week passed pleasantly enough away. Grace was very kind to Emily, and Walter was never tired of walking about the docks, and watching the large ships loading and unloading the bales and casks of goods coming and going to all parts of the world. It gave him some idea of the vast amount of commerce of London, when such a stream of merchandise was coming in and going out all day long.
At length the captain told him that he had some hours to spare, and they set off together to try and find Mr Heathfield. They got down at Charing Cross, where a bookseller allowed them to look over a Court Guide.
"Yes, that must be my cousin," said Walter, seeing the name. "I now remember going there with my father. Yes, and those are the clubs he belongs to."
Having put down the address, the captain and Walter at once set off to find it. They were not long in getting there. A woman opened the door.
"Mr Heathfield is not in town; he seldom is at this time," was the answer. "He may come up for a day, or he may not; but letters addressed here will find him."
"But can you tell me where he is?" asked Walter. "I am a relation of his."
"As to that, he may be