ICT and Primary Mathematics 1st Edition Jenni Way
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- 5. ICT and Primary Mathematics 1st Edition Jenni Way Digital Instant Download Author(s): Jenni Way, Toni Beardon ISBN(s): 9780335228355, 0335228356 Edition: 1 File Details: PDF, 12.38 MB Year: 2003 Language: english
- 8. Learning and Teaching with Information and Communications Technology Series editors: Tony Adams and Sue Brindley The role of ICT in the curriculum is much more than simply a passing trend. It provides a real opportunity for teachers of all phases and subjects to rethink fundamental pedagogical issues alongside the approaches to learning that pupils need to apply in classrooms. In this way it foregrounds the way in which teachers can match in school the opportunities for learning provided in home and community. The series in firmly rooted in practice and also explores the theoretical underpinning of the ways in which curriculum content and skills can be developed by the effective integration of ICT in schooling. It addresses the educational needs of the early years, the primary phase and secondary subject areas. The books are appropriate for pre-service teacher training and continuing professional development as well as for those pursuing higher degrees in education. Published and forthcoming titles: R. Barton (ed.): Learning and Teaching Science with ICT Florian and Hegarty (eds): ICT and Special Educational Needs A. Loveless and B. Dore (eds): ICT in the Primary School M. Monteith (ed.): Teaching Primary Literacy with ICT J. Way and T. Beardon (eds): ICT and Primary Mathematics
- 9. ICT AND PRIMARY MATHEMATICS Edited by Jenni Way and Toni Beardon Open University Press Maidenhead · Philadelphia
- 10. Open University Press McGraw-Hill Education Shoppenhangers Road Maidenhead Berkshire England SL6 2QL email: enquiries@openup.co.uk world wide web: www.openup.co.uk and 325 Chestnut Street Philadelphia, PA 19106, USA First Published 2003 Copyright © Jenni Way, Toni Beardon and contributors 2003 All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purpose of criticism and review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher or a licence from the Copyright Licensing Agency Limited. Details of such licences (for reprographic reproduction) may be obtained from the Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd of 90 Tottenham Court Road, London, W1T 4LP. A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library ISBN 0 335 21030 9 (pb) 0 335 21031 7 (hb) Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Way, Jenni (Jennifer Anne), 1956– ICT and primary mathematics / Jenni Way and Toni Beardon. p. cm. – (Learning and teaching with ICT) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–335–21031–7 – ISBN 0–335–21030–9 (pbk.) 1. Mathematics–Computer-assisted instruction. 2. Mathematics–Study and teaching (Primary)–Data processing. 3. Educational technology. I. Beardon, Toni (Leonora Antoinette), 1940– II. Title. III. Series. QA20.C65 W39 2003 372.7′044 – dc21 Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk Printed in Great Britain by Bell and Bain, Glasgow
- 11. CONTENTS List of contributors vii Series editor’s preface ix Preface xi Toni Beardon 1 Digital technologies + mathematics education = powerful learning environments 1 Jenni Way and Toni Beardon 2 It’s not calculators but how they’re used . . . 7 Ruth Forrester 3 Spreadsheets with everything 29 Pat Perks and Stephanie Prestage 4 Learning technologies, learning styles and learning mathematics 53 John Vincent 5 Teaching the computer 71 Ronnie Goldstein and David Pratt
- 12. 6 Expanding horizons: the potential of the Internet to enhance learning 91 Jenni Way and Toni Beardon 7 Classroom technologies as tools not toys: a teacher’s perspective on making it work in the classroom 122 Merilyn Buchanan 8 ICT as a tool for learning – where are we going? 153 Toni Beardon and Jenni Way Index 163 CONTENTS vi
- 13. LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS Toni Beardon, University of Cambridge. After a long career in secondary mathematics teaching and teacher education with Cambridge University, Toni founded the NRICH Online Mathematics Club and other related projects. Her research interests include peer assisted learning and the impact of the Internet on learning and teaching mathematics. In 2002, Toni was awarded an OBE for services to mathematics education. Merilyn Buchanan, California State University. Merilyn has taught across all age groups from kindergarten to college in Britain and the USA. She taught for 12 years as a demonstration teacher and education lecturer at the Uni- versity of California, Los Angeles, worked for a year as the NRICH Primary Mathematics Coordinator for the Royal Institution and the University of Cambridge, and then returned to a post at California State University. Ruth Forrester, University of Edinburgh. Ruth, an experienced teacher, works with the Edinburgh Centre for Mathematical Education, University of Edinburgh, as a research development officer with a particular interest in supporting teachers in their explorations of using calculators with their classes. Ronnie Goldstein, Open University. Ronnie has an extensive background in mathematics education in secondary schools, universities and with BECTA. He has designed and produced a wide range of learning materials
- 14. and computer-based resources including Logo MicroWorlds programs, SMILE programs and dynamic geometry packs. He is also known for his active involvement in The Association for Teachers in Mathematics and as editor of the Micromath journal (1989–94). Pat Perks, University of Birmingham. Pat comes from a background in secondary mathematics teaching and has also worked with many primary schools in the role of an advisory teacher. A major focus of her recent work has been the use of the calculator and ICT in primary mathematics. David Pratt, University of Warwick. After a 15-year teaching career, David moved into mathematics education lecturing in primary and secondary courses. Since joining the University of Warwick his research has focused on the relationship between virtual tools and the emergence of mathe- matical knowledge. He is currently involved in the Playground Project, based at the Institute of Education, University of London, in which young children construct and modify video-type games. Stephanie Prestage, University of Birmingham. Stephanie has broad experi- ence in education, having taught mathematics in secondary schools, worked on major primary school curriculum projects, tutored on second- ary mathematics education courses and taught Masters level ICT modules for primary mathematics. Her recent interest has been in the development of algebra in Years 5 and 6. Jenni Way, University of Western Sydney. Jenni has taught in primary schools in Australia. She spent two and a half years with the Cambridge University School of Education developing the NRICH Prime website and with the Royal Institution helping to set up school lectures and a network of primary masterclasses around the UK. Jenni has now returned to her mathematics education lecturing position in Sydney. John Vincent, Melbourne Grammar School. John has extensive teaching experience and is currently working at Melbourne Grammar School, where he is Coordinator of Information and Learning Technologies. He is currently engaged in a PhD study involving children’s learning styles and their interaction with computer software. LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS viii
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- 16. know he may stick there. I wonder where Cochrane is. He must have taken the alarm, too.” “We hope to be able to help the case considerably by means of the ring you wrote to us about,” observed Mr. Cory. “Well, the imp of mischief seems to be at work,” said the captain, emphasising his vexation by an oath. “Even the ring will be no use as evidence now. At Malta we coaled, coming home. There I met an old chum, who, like myself, was on his first voyage as master. I’m afraid we both jubilated till we were half seas over. I was cutting a dash with the diamond ring at the time. My friend offered to go on board my ship with me. As we were being rowed to the ship he noticed my ring, and made some remark about it. I pulled it off to show it to him. Whether it was his fault or mine I hardly know, but between us we let the ring drop into the water, with the result that it is lost beyond recovery.”
- 18. CHAPTER XIV. AN ACCOMMODATING POSTMAN. “Annie, my child, don’t you think you had better give up this vain chase? You are looking ill and worried. The case makes no real progress, in spite of all our exertions, and you are wearing your life away for nothing.” “For nothing, auntie? Is Harley’s rescue nothing? I’m ashamed to hear you speak like that. It’s a good thing Mrs. Riddell has not come downstairs yet. She would be astonished to find you turning traitor.” “I have heard some people say, my dear, that you have a real nasty temper when you like, and I am bound to admit that they are not far wrong, for your last sentence was thoroughly ill-natured. As you know, however, I am quite ready to make allowances, and I repeat that you are not reaping an equivalent success for all your exertions.” “And what would you have me do? Leave Harley to his fate, without another effort to save him?” “By no means. I am as anxious as ever that he should be helped. But I think you will work more efficiently if you take things quietly for a while, and resume operations after your inactivity has lulled all suspicion.” “You mean well, auntie; but I should die if I didn’t work in some way or other for Harley’s benefit. So far all my efforts have failed, but I don’t mean to give up hope, for Fate cannot always set her signals dead against us.”
- 19. The above conversation between Miss Cory and her niece will serve to show that poor Harley Riddell, while possessing friends who were as firmly convinced of his innocence as ever, was in danger of having his prospects jeopardised by the paralysing influence of baffled efforts. Annie was the only one whom disappointment did not seem to daunt, and, with her, failure was but a stimulus to renewed effort. The long-drawn-out agony of her lover’s unjustified incarceration was ever before her eyes, and she would have deemed herself guilty of a crime had she resigned herself to the passive inactivity which to others seemed the only course left her. “Are you going out this morning?” questioned Miss Margaret, as she carefully examined a hole in the damask tablecloth she was about to darn. “Yes. I have a little business to transact. Tell father I won’t be long, for, if I am, I shall have been unexpectedly detained.” Presently our heroine, who to the ordinary passer-by looked a rather handsome young fellow, with short, dark hair, bright dark blue eyes, and a dark moustache, of a shape which suited his light form and clearly-cut features to perfection, was walking down the street in a westerly direction at a rapid pace. Half an hour later this same young gentleman was to be seen talking to an elderly postman, in a neighbourhood which, for the sake of the aforementioned postman I had better not indicate too closely. Suffice it to say that his round embraced the residence of Mr. David Stavanger, who, with his family, was now back in London. “Have you anything yet for me?” was the first inquiry addressed to the postman, an inquiry, moreover, which pointed to a little previous collusion between the two innocent-looking individuals. “I believe I have, at last, sir,” was the answer, “I had an extra lot of letters this morning, and very near forgot all about you. In fact, I was just putting three letters in the letter-box of Number Thirty-nine
- 20. when I caught sight of a foreign stamp, and stuck to the letter it was on, just in time. Is this anything in your line, sir?” Saying this, the postman handed a letter to “Mr. Bootle,” which the latter seized with avidity, and examined eagerly. The scrutiny appeared to more than satisfy him. He was positively jubilant, for the missive bore a Spanish postmark, and was in the handwriting which had become quite familiar to the pseudo governess of Fanny Stavanger. “I believe this is the very thing I want. Wait a moment until I open it, so that I may know whether I need your services any more for the present or not. There! you see there is no cheque or valuable paper of any description in this envelope. It is, as I told you, a letter only that I wished to intercept, and there will be no inquiry about it, I assure you, as the writer is a fugitive from justice, who is only too anxious to keep dark. Yes, this tells me all I want to know. This very night I set off to catch my man, and here is the ten-pound note I promised you.” “If you have gold about you it would suit me better, sir. Ten pounds is a lot for a poor chap like me to have, and folks might get suspicious if I showed a note for that amount.” “Perhaps you don’t feel sure that the note is genuine. I have no gold with me. But if you object to the bank note, I will give you a cheque on the National and Provincial Bank.” “Oh, it’s all right, sir. I’ll take your word for it. All the same, if you don’t mind, I’ll follow you till we get to the bank. Then you can go inside with me, and change it.” It was evident that the postman distrusted him. But Mr. Bootle was too delighted with the prize he had obtained to be very thin- skinned about this stranger’s opinion. In due time the postman received £10 in gold as payment for his breach of confidence, and
- 21. went on his way rejoicing, wishing for a speedy opportunity of doing another such profitable day’s work. As for Mr. Ernest Bootle, he went on his way rejoicing, too, and feeling not the slightest qualm of conscience at what he had done, since it was all in the cause of right and justice. The precious letter was hugged very closely during the journey home, and then, in the privacy of Mr. Bootle’s own room, it was re-read. For the benefit of the reader we will transcribe its contents here:— “Lina, Spain. “My Dear Father,—I am still inclined to stop in this place for a while. Nobody has the slightest suspicion that I am not a bonâ fide English agent and that my name is not Gregory Staines. You still urge me to come home. I think your advice unwise, for I am sure that girl will leave no stone unturned to find me, and arrest would be very distasteful to me. I am very much better as I am. I live in comfort, have no tiresome business restrictions, and, so far, have won so much in an English gaming-house here that it has not been necessary to encroach on the money I have realised. You need not imagine that I am careless, or that I am courting recognition. Even if anyone who knew me was to come here, I am too well disguised to be identified, and even if identification were possible, it would be useless, as I am quite safe in Spanish territory. And I am not staying at an hotel either, but have taken lodgings in a quiet, respectable neighbourhood, with a good-looking young English widow, who seems inclined to be sweet on me. If I find that she has any money put by I may perhaps marry her, and settle down here. I don’t care much for swell society, so, if I can be made comfortable when at home, and I do not run out of spending money abroad, I shan’t need to grumble. In any case, I mean to give England a wide berth while that confounded woman is knocking around. I wish she would break her neck.”
- 22. “No, I won’t break my neck,” said the individual to whom this pious wish applied. “But I’m hoping, after all, to stop your gallop, Mr. Stavanger, since you have so kindly put your new address in this letter; and the good-looking widow must be cured of her folly, too. I daresay you do feel yourself tolerably safe, and you are evidently free from qualms of conscience also. The latter, no doubt, will make themselves felt when you are brought to book for your crimes. Then you will, no doubt, be a pattern of pious repentance, since the gist of repentance, in convicted criminals, is to be measured by the poignancy of their regret at being found out. The exceptions to this rule are the very, very few who voluntarily own their culpability and surrender themselves to justice. As you are not likely to prove a voluntary repentant, I must force your hand. And now for my immediate plans.” The result of the deliberations in which Mr. Bootle now indulged will be apparent in a letter which the Rev. Alexander Bootle, otherwise Mr. Cory, read up to his sister, and to Mrs. Riddell the same evening. Said letter merely informed them that Annie was now gone to carry out the plan at which she had hinted some days ago; that she was sanguine of success; that she wished her departure from home kept as quiet as possible; that she had, according to an understanding between them, drawn as much money as she thought might be needed for the enterprise she had in hand; and that they must not feel uneasy if they did not hear from her for some time, as she did not wish to risk the failure of her enterprise by allowing even her nearest and dearest to know of her whereabouts. “I hope Annie will not plunge into any foolish risks,” said Miss Margaret, anxiously. “She is too sensible to do that,” Mrs. Riddell remarked. “Still, she has courage surpassing that of 99 out of every 100 women, and would think little of what would scare others.”
- 23. “And her very pluck will carry her safely through dangers that another woman would succumb to. I think Harley is lucky in having won so devoted a girl. For she will never relax her efforts, and I begin to be imbued with her faith in ultimate success.” “So do I,” added Mr. Cory. “All the same, I wish she had taken us into her confidence. The child is only twenty, and has never been entirely thrown on her own resources before. Suppose she were to fall into the hands of swindlers, and be robbed of the money she has with her? All sorts of evils might happen before she could communicate with us.” “John, I’m surprised at you. Annie is too much in earnest, and at the same time too wary, to play into the hands of the enemy. You don’t like the notion of her pursuing her investigations alone. After all, it is the best thing she can do; for you must admit that neither you nor the detective have been much use in the case.” “That was due to adverse circumstances, not to our want of penetration.” “I am willing to grant that; but I have no doubt that Annie is actuated by an idea that she is less likely to put Stavanger on his guard if alone than if accompanied by anyone else. For my part I have resolved not to be uneasy about her. Have you heard anything of what the Stavangers are doing just now?” “Jogtrotting, as per usual, I suppose, except that the elder daughter is to be married soon. I am not sure that it is not to-day.” “I’m sorry for the man who marries into that family. But, of course, we have no grounds for warning him. And now about Harley. It is wonderful how he keeps his health. Oh, are you going to bed, Mrs. Riddell? Well, good night. Perhaps all is going to be cleared up soon, and you must keep your spirits up, for your son’s sake.”
- 24. “For the sake of my sons, yes,” said the old lady tremulously. “And for the sake of the dear girl who has done so much for them and for me.” “Strange how the dear old soul clings to that belief in Hilton’s ultimate recovery,” said Miss Margaret, when she and her brother were once alone. “Nothing seems to convince her that he is really dead.” “We have plenty of proof that he is dead. There is the word of all the people who voyaged with him in the ‘Merry Maid’ that he disappeared in mid-ocean. And the length of time that has now elapsed precludes all possibility of his being alive still.” “Of course, he must be dead. And our poor friend will be bound to awaken in time to the bitter truth that the sea will not give up its dead.” “If you please,” announced a servant, whose knock had not been heard by the brother and sister, “a gentleman, whose name is Captain Gerard, wishes to speak to you.” “Gerard! Show him in at once. Perhaps he has some important news for us, Margaret.” “We’ll hope so. And we shall soon know.” “Good evening, Mr. Bootle,” said Captain Gerard, advancing into the room. “You will, perhaps, be surprised to receive a visit from me so late in the day. But the truth is I have a bit of news for you that may interest you—I have seen Captain Cochrane.”
- 26. CHAPTER XV. JUST IN TIME. We will now, with the reader’s permission, retrace our history to the night on which the captain and passenger of the “Merry Maid” consigned to the waves the body of the man whom they firmly believed to have murdered. The barque “Halcyon,” bound from Lisbon for Callao, was proceeding quietly on her course and had, up to now, encountered nothing out of her usual experience. The captain, contentedly smoking a big cigar, was leaning idly over the rail and scanning the horizon, on the faint chance of seeing something that would relieve the monotony of the scene. It was a fine moonlight night, but now and again a cloud, carried along a higher strata than that by which the movements of the “Halcyon” were dominated, obscured the radiance of the orb of night, and enveloped sea and sky in a temporary mantle of darkness, rendering invisible everything but the distant lights of some vessel crossing the track pursued by the “Halcyon.” Captain Quaco Pereiro, being of an adventurous disposition, would have preferred more variety in the scenery. But he was withal of a philosophical turn of mind, and never fretted for that which was unobtainable. Being content, therefore, to accept his somewhat isolated position uncomplainingly, he was nevertheless prepared to welcome relief in any form, and followed with considerable interest the course of a steamer, of which he obtained an occasional feeble glimpse, and which he concluded, from the track pursued, to be bound for the Mediterranean. Not that there was anything special about the steamer to attract his attention. But
- 27. it chanced to be the nearest object in sight, therefore possibly the most profitable to observe. But nothing occurred on board that he was near enough to distinguish, and Captain Pereiro, having finished his cigar, and having bethought himself that it would be as well to go below for a drink of wine, was raising himself up from the rail against which he had been leaning, when his eyes caught sight of a dark object bobbing quietly about on the waters, offering no resistance beyond that inert resistance which is inherent in any solid substance. “H’m! what is that?” he questioned himself. “A log of wood? Yes— no—ah! Sancta Maria! it is the body of a man! Holy Mother, preserve us!” Such a sight always saddened Captain Pereiro, for it reminded him of what might possibly be his own fate, and made him pray the more fervently that the beloved wife and children whom he had left at home might be long ere they were deprived of their bread winner. Imagining that it was the body of some shipwrecked sailor that was now within a boat’s length of him, he was about to turn away from the painful sight, when his heart gave a startled bound on hearing a weird cry, as of some human being in the depths of agony and despair. “Mother of God!” he cried, crossing himself vigorously, “what was that?” Convinced that the cry he had heard did not originate on board, Captain Pereiro turned his gaze over the side again in the direction of the weird object which had already impressed him painfully. With ears and eyes strained to their utmost tension, he waited for he scarcely knew what. Would the body float quietly past, with not a sign of life or vitality about it? Or would his impressions be realised, and would it turn out that the awful scream he had heard proceeded from that which he had shudderingly looked upon as a corpse?
- 28. He was not left many seconds to conjecture, for once more the moonlit air was rent with the desponding shriek of the dying, and this time all doubt and superstitious fear were simultaneously removed from his mind. For not only was it evident whence the cry proceeded, but the hands of the supposed corpse were thrown up imploringly, yet feebly, as though by one from whom the vital spark had nearly fled. Others had now also both seen and heard what was going on, and it scarcely needed Captain Pereiro’s sharp command to back the mainyard in order to induce his sailors to bring about the end he desired. In an incredibly short space of time the course of the “Halcyon” was arrested, a boat was lowered, the drowning man secured, and preparations for starting again made. As soon as rescuers and rescued were safely on board, Captain Pereiro gave the order to brace the mainyard, and speedily, with well-filled sails, the barque was being steered on her course once more. It seemed, however, that the fine fellows had wasted their energies in a vain cause, for the stranger had relapsed into total unconsciousness, which was so profound that for a long time it resisted every benevolent effort to dispel it. “The fates are against the poor fellow,” murmured the captain, sorrowfully. “I fear we were too late to help him. And yet it is a shame to be so cheated after all the trouble. Pedro, we will have another try, and by the Virgin, I will renounce—I mean I will be angry with—my patron saint if he does not help us to succeed in keeping this man’s soul out of purgatory a while longer.” Pedro, who, by the way, was the steward of the “Halcyon,” was already fatigued by the vigorous exertions he had made. He was, moreover, convinced that the thing upon which he had been operating no longer contained a soul, and he felt a horror at the idea of pulling and twisting a dead body about. But he dared not refuse to do as he was told, so, invoking the aid of St. Peter as a corollary
- 29. to the help St. George had been asked to extend to the captain, he set bravely to work once more, and soon became as full of faith and energy as Pereiro himself. Fortunately for St. George, the captain had no need to be angry with him, for after a prolonged and fatiguing spell of rubbing, fomenting, dosing, and artificial respiration, the stranger’s eyelids began to quiver, and short, gasping sighs escaped his labouring breast. Thanks to Pereiro’s clever treatment, he was already partially relieved of the brine which he had perforce swallowed, but no sooner did the latter realise that his efforts were being rewarded by success, than he promptly administered another emetic, which proved thoroughly effectual, and left the patient gasping with exhaustion, but on the high road to recovery. As the reader no doubt guesses, it was Hilton Riddell who was thus miraculously saved from what appeared to be certain death. His would-be murderers were so anxious to avoid observation on their own ship that they had not noticed the proximity of the barque at right angles with them, and felt as sure that they had compassed their desired end, as that they themselves were alive and well. Thus they sped on their course, hugging the belief that they had taken the most effectual means of silencing an enemy, and feeling secure in the reflection that, as the sea was not likely to give up its dead, they were not likely to be confronted with Hilton Riddell again. Meanwhile the latter was receiving every care and attention on board the “Halcyon.” Captain Pereiro was greatly delighted to observe the gradual recovery of the prey he had rescued from the ocean, all the more so as he had already convinced himself that Hilton had been the victim of foul play. The blow on the head had been a terrible one—so terrible, indeed, that it threatened to kill him, many symptoms of concussion of the brain showing themselves. Thus it was weeks before poor Hilton recovered his wonted vigour, and, under God, it was due to the unremitting care
- 30. and attention with which Captain Pereiro nursed him that he was enabled to evade death. Pedro, too, being of a generous disposition, grudged no pains in the preparation of dainties likely to stimulate the invalid’s for some time languishing appetite. Had Hilton been their patron saint himself, he could not have been treated with more care and tenderness, and his returning consciousness of what he had been saved from invested them, in turn, with every saint-like attribute. Short, stout, of stolid feature; black-haired, rough-bearded, and carelessly shaven; with dark eyes, whose kindly light was almost obscured by bushy, overhanging eyebrows; of the swarthiest complexion; with big, coarse hands, and a rough gait, and with all the eccentricities of his appearance accentuated by a sublime indifference to the advantages of becoming attire, Captain Pereiro was not one to strike the casual observer with enthusiastic admiration. The steward, Pedro, did not come in a bad second as far as personal appearance went, except that he was taller, thinner, and more pronouncedly ungainly. But ask Hilton Riddell to this day to name the two finest fellows on earth, and he will at once utter a verdict in favour of the captain and steward of the Portuguese barque “Halcyon.” It was at first a source of wonderment to his rescuers how he had kept afloat so long, until they discovered that much of his apparent bulk was caused by a life-saving waistcoat with which he had had the forethought to provide himself. “This man is English, and he comes from London. So much I can make out from his speech, but no more,” said the captain, when talking things over with the mate of his ship, who, though not taking an active part in the nursing of the foundling, yet felt a considerable interest in his progress towards recovery. “He is a beautiful man, as beautiful as the fabled gods must have been; but I burn with curiosity to know how he has been thrown on to our hands. He has met with foul play, that is sure, and he has been among people
- 31. whom he knew to be his enemies. That is also sure. It is also evident that he was to some extent prepared for the risk he ran, and that his enemies were ignorant of the fact. Otherwise he would not have worn this waistcoat, ready for inflation, under his shirt, or his enemies, after thinking they had killed him by the blows on the head, would have removed the wonderful garment which ensured his floating on the surface of the water.” “But,” objected the mate, “he may have been wrecked, and the wound on his head may have been caused by a blow from floating wreckage.” “No, that is not so, for when I took a marlingspike, and pretended to hit my own head with it, at the same time pointing to his, he nodded vigorously, as much as to say that his wound was inflicted purposely. I am sure he has a strange history, and, for the first time in my life, I wish I knew how to talk English.” “If he could talk Portuguese it would do just as well.” “Yes; but he doesn’t talk Portuguese, so there’s an end of it. I will go below again now, and see how he is getting on.” Captain Pereiro found his patient very much better, and anxious to know where he was, how he came there, and whither he was being taken. But his eager questions, and the captain’s willing answers, only resulted in their becoming more hopelessly befogged with each other. Neither could elicit or communicate anything satisfactory. At last the captain was seized with a bright idea, which induced him to rush to the chart-room as quickly as his unwieldy body would let him, leaving Hilton wondering what was the matter with him. Presently he returned with a triumphant look on his face, bearing in his hands a large roll, which he laid carefully on the locker for a while. Then he assisted Hilton into a sitting position, piling behind him a pair of sea boots, some oilskins, a camp stool, and sundry other things, upon which substantial foundation he arranged various
- 32. pillows in the dexterous manner which had become habitual to him. Having thus made the patient as comfortable as possible, he produced the roll from the top of the locker and unfolded what proved to be a large chart. Hilton smiled his sudden comprehension, and eagerly bent his eyes upon the chart. The captain, seeing that his purpose was likely to be understood, pointed first to Hilton, then to the chart, in effect asking him to give as much information as he could. Very soon Hilton put his finger on London and looked at the captain, who nodded comprehension. Then he slowly traced the course of the “Merry Maid” on the chart until nearly abreast Lisbon, when he stopped, feigned to go to sleep; to strike his head with his eyes shut; to awake struggling in the water; to withdraw a tube from his waistcoat pocket; and to inflate by its means a concealed life-saving garment. The captain thoroughly understood this pantomime, and clenched his fist in anger at those who had perpetrated so dastardly a deed. Then, once more pointing questioningly to the chart, he gave Hilton to understand that he wished to know whither the “Merry Maid” was bound, whereupon the remainder of the route to Malta was traced out for him. After this, being mutely questioned in his turn, Pereiro made a start at Lisbon, Hilton following his movements with breathless attention. Stopping near the spot indicated by the latter, he gave a sharp cry, tossed his arms as if struggling in the water, made a pantomimic rescue, and then began to rub himself vigorously, and to pump his arms up and down to show that artificial respiration had been resorted to. Hilton squeezed his hands gratefully, and murmured words of thanks, of which Pereiro had no difficulty in grasping the import, although they were uttered in a tongue of which he knew nothing but that it was English. After this, anxiously watched, he slowly traced a course which filled Hilton’s heart with dismay, for he never stopped until he had rounded Cape Horn, and followed what seemed to his companion to be an interminable coastline.
- 33. Finally, he stopped at Callao, and was astounded to see that his information was received with every symptom of distress. For a time, Hilton knew not what to do, for he felt stunned. To go all that distance, and in a sailing vessel, too, was equivalent to being dead to friends and foes alike for many months. Moreover, he was rendered utterly useless, and could do nothing but fret and worry at the trouble which would be felt at home on his own account. “My mother will wonder why she does not hear from me. Those scoundrels will forge some plausible tale to account for my disappearance, and poor Harley will be doomed to undergo the whole of his horrible sentence in prison, if, indeed, he lives so long. Between grief for Harley, and grief for me, my poor mother will fret herself into the grave. And poor Annie! My God! how everything is playing into the hands of those villains! It seems unbelievable—and there is that bottle of papers I threw overboard, too. Perhaps that will soon disclose the true state of affairs, and Harley’s liberation may be effected without any further help from me.” Could he have foreseen the fate of the papers he had prepared so carefully, his distress of mind would have been much greater than it was. Fortunately, this knowledge was denied him, but he already suffered enough to cause him to have a relapse, and for some time his condition gave great anxiety to his nurses. After many days he was sufficiently convalescent to come on deck, and after that his physical progress was rapid. As he recovered his wonted strength and vigour, the admiration of those around him increased considerably. Some of them—indeed, all—used as they were to swarthy skins, and dusky locks, looked upon his smart, upright physique, his clear, fair skin, just relieved from effeminacy by being slightly tanned, his finely-cut features, his wavy, flaxen hair, his expressive grey eyes, and his small hands and feet, as the perfection of all that was gallant and beautiful in man. By-and-bye they also began to admire him for other than his physical qualities.
- 34. For he was not disposed to be the idle and ungrateful recipient of bounty, but lost no opportunity of doing a service to his deliverers. Ships are never overmanned. There is always room for the help of another hand or two. And even then, in squally weather, it taxes everybody’s energies to keep pace with the exigencies of the hour. Thus, it often happened that Hilton proved himself invaluable, and though Captain Pereiro, with whom he was fast learning to converse in broken Portuguese, remonstrated with him for working so hard, he could not renounce any part of the active life he was now leading. For it served to save him from the despondency which he could not otherwise have resisted. Nevertheless, he counted the months, the weeks, the days that must elapse ere he could obtain any news of what was transpiring at home, and every spell of adverse weather caused him acute anguish, since it lengthened the time during which he would have to remain inactive. But as all things come to those that wait, even so did the last day of his voyage dawn on Hilton Riddell, and it was with curiously mingled emotions that he once more found himself ashore. True, it was in a strange country, among a strange people, and thousands of miles away from the place in which he was anxious to find himself. But it was, at any rate, a civilised country, to which English news might penetrate, and he was not without a faint hope that he might come across an English paper containing some account of progress made on Harley’s behalf. How fallacious this hope was will be apparent to the reader, but one has to picture oneself in his destitute, lonely, and desperate condition, to realise to what mere straws of comfort one can cling for consolation. The “Halcyon” would be some weeks before it would be ready to leave Callao, and Captain Pereiro, who by this time knew a great deal of the Englishman’s story, very generously urged him to make it his home until he could get himself transported back to England.
- 35. Being without money, and possessing no credit with anyone here, Hilton took the only course open to him under the circumstances, unless he had been willing to seek work, and remain here long enough to save money for his passage. This he could not do, as he deemed his speedy presence in England imperative, in Harley’s interests. He therefore went to the British Consul, and represented himself as a seafarer, who had been washed overboard in a squall. His reason for being thus uncommunicative concerning what really occurred was that he feared that any report should reach England through the Consulate, and find its way into the English papers before he could arrive himself. He was fully alive to the fact that news of his safety would be gladly welcomed by his mother and friends. But he also knew that if his enemies were to suspect him to be in the land of the living, they would be on their guard, and would, perhaps, succeed once more in baulking him of the prey he meant to run to earth, in spite of what appeared to be a malignantly adverse fate. “The bitterness of my loss is past,” he said. “My people already mourn me dead, and my enemies triumph over my removal from their path. I will awaken neither the hopes of the one nor the fears of the other until the right moment for striking arrives. My blow will then be more deadly and sure, and I shall be able to work with much more freedom if my continued existence is unsuspected.” It was in conformity with this resolution that he gave fictitious names to the consul, both of himself and the ship from which he was supposed to have been washed overboard. Had there been much doubt expressed concerning the matter, there was the evidence of Captain Pereiro and his crew to show how he had come aboard the “Halcyon.” Asked what he wished the consul to do for him, he replied that he was anxious to reach England as soon as possible; that, if chance afforded, he would gladly work his passage home; otherwise, he wished to be shipped free of charge to himself, on board a London-bound steamer, this request being in strict accordance with English usage and custom.
- 36. His request was looked upon as reasonable enough, and, upon the whole, he was well treated. But there was no vessel in the port that was likely to proceed to England immediately, and he was forced to submit to a heart-breaking delay. By this time Pereiro was very much attached to him, and would fain have persuaded him to wait until the “Halcyon” had discharged her cargo and reloaded, in order to return in the barque to Lisbon, thence to proceed by the quickest route to London. “One of my sailors has asked me to let him off articles. He has come across a chance of making money more quickly than would be the case at sea. You can ship in his place, earn his pay, and have money to buy some clothes, and take you home to London. You will also be more at home with us than on another strange ship. Say the word, my friend, and make me happy.” But to this plan Hilton did not feel himself able to consent. The idea of another long voyage in a sailing vessel filled him with horror. Yet, as the weeks sped by, and no better opportunity offered itself, his hopes sank to zero. At last, when he was feeling thoroughly weary and despondent, another steamer bearing the English flag steamed into the harbour. This was the “Lorna Doone.” Both officers and crew bore evidence of having undergone great privations, and the story they had to tell was enough to make anybody’s heart ache. Head winds and heavy seas had delayed their outward passage, and sickness, in the shape of yellow fever, had overtaken them at their discharging port. All in turn had been seriously ill. Some of their shipmates had never recovered from the grip of Yellow Jack. Water, provisions, and men were alike scarce, and the captain, being in dire straits, had found it necessary to run into Callao for relief, before proceeding on the return voyage to Liverpool. In all this Hilton hailed his opportunity. No sooner was the quarantine flag hauled down, than he boarded the “Lorna Doone,” and asked to be shipped as an able seaman. Too sorely pushed to insist upon discharges or references, the captain gladly engaged
- 37. him, and in another day or two the Blue Peter was flying on the foremast head of his new home. It was with some regret, and many manifestations of sorrow, that the parting between Hilton and his demonstrative benefactors took place. But at last the painful scene was over; he was fairly installed on board the “Lorna Doone,” and in a few hours more was being borne to the goal he was so anxious to reach—England.
- 39. CHAPTER XVI. A DETERMINED PURSUIT. In a certain house, in a certain street, in the town of Lina, Mrs. Dollman, a very pretty widow, of small attainments as far as time goes, for she was but 22, was talking to her sister, who had come to take tea with her. Said sister’s name was Mrs. Twiley, and she lived at Gibraltar when at home, her husband being a sergeant-major there. The late Mr. Dollman had been a lieutenant stationed at the fortress. He had risen from the ranks by merit alone, and had nothing to live upon but his pay. When he died, with startling suddenness, his young wife found herself rather badly off, her widow’s pension not leaving much margin for luxuries, after a certain number of necessities had been purchased. Of relatives she had none left but the sister who lived in Gibraltar, and to whom she was much attached. She, therefore, resolved upon remaining in the vicinity, instead of going to England, where she knew very few people. A little kindly co-operation on the part of her late husband’s friends enabled her to start a boarding-house on a small scale, with a view to supplementing her meagre income, and she was considered to be doing very well. Among her boarders was Hugh Stavanger, who was known here as Gregory Staines, and who was supposed to be a commission agent of some sort. Mr. Staines had been rather profuse in his attentions to his pretty landlady, and Mrs. Twiley, having heard something about a whispered possible engagement, deemed it compatible with her position as sole and serious relative to warn her sister against want of caution.
- 40. “You see, Phœbe,” she said gravely, “you really know next to nothing about this Mr. Staines. Certainly, he seems to have plenty of money to go on with, and pays you regularly. But you want more than that. You want to feel that his past life will bear investigation, and that he is really actuated by no mercenary motives in seeking to marry you.” “Why, good gracious, Millie! I haven’t a penny saved up, as you know; and, as for my pension, I shall forfeit that if I marry again. So how can anybody possibly want to marry me through mercenary motives?” “Will often says that with all your native shrewdness, there are some points on which you are awfully slow, and I am inclined to agree with him. Do you forget that you have a very well-furnished house, with every article in it paid for; that you have a comfortable little business nicely established; and that you are such a capital little manager that many an adventurer would jump at the chance of being kept by you? Now, don’t lose yourself in a temper, for I don’t mean to insinuate that you couldn’t be loved for yourself, apart from the material advantages you have to offer. In fact, I know different, for Archer Pallister thinks and dreams of nothing but your looks and ways, and I am sure that if he isn’t downright genuine, there isn’t a genuine man on earth. Indeed, the woman who marries him may thank her lucky stars. But there are all sorts of people knocking around, and Will says that we ought to be on our guard against Englishmen dodging about in Spain, unless they can give a very satisfactory account of themselves. For anything we know, this Gregory Staines is either an absconding building society secretary, or a fraudulent poor-rate collector.” “I think it’s real mean of you to talk like that, Millie. You ought to know me better than to think I would take up with an adventurer.” “I am glad to hear you say so, my dear. Will, too, will be highly pleased to be told that you are going to give Mr. Staines the cold
- 41. shoulder.” “You are rather premature. I never said so.” “Not in so many words, perhaps. But you implied it. You said that you wouldn’t take up with an adventurer.” “Your conclusion does not follow.” “Indeed it does, dear, for I firmly believe the man to be a worthless adventurer.” “He is a jeweller’s agent, doing a good business.” “So he says. But haven’t you noticed that he transacts his business at very unbusiness-like times? He’s out to-day, but the circumstance is exceptional. He generally goes to bed about two o’clock, rises late, loafs about the house for hours, and goes out upon this ostensible business of his towards evening, when work of his sort is, or ought to be, over. Besides, how could an agent live by doing business in Lina alone? Will and I are not the only two people who have talked him over, and the consensus of opinion is that he is not to be trusted, and is a man against whom you ought to be warned.” “It is very kind of you to talk about my private affairs to all sorts of people. Be good enough to tell Will that I’m exceedingly obliged to him.” “Now, don’t be rusty! You know that Will is as fond of you as I am, and that nothing would grieve him more than to think you were unhappy. Oh, look what a pretty girl is getting out of that conveyance! Why, she is coming here. I wonder what she wants.” Phœbe Dollman also forgot her slight illhumour, and looked with interest upon the tall golden-haired beauty approaching the door. Presently a card was brought in to Mrs. Dollman, and the Spanish servant informed her that a lady wished to speak to her. The name
- 42. on the card was Una Stratton, and very speedily Mrs. Dollman was conversing with the owner of it. Miss Stratton, it appeared, was a lady artist, who wished to enrich her portfolio by sketching some Spanish scenes and people. She had been recommended to Mrs. Dollman’s boarding-house by a Mr. Smith, who had obtained the address for her from a friend who had spent a few weeks at Lina in the early summer. Mrs. Dollman did not know who could be the especial gentleman who had been good enough to recommend her lodgings. But she had had several boarders who were little more than birds of passage, being en route for other places, and the gentleman through whom Miss Stratton had obtained her address might be one of those. Anyhow, things seemed to be straightforward enough. The young lady offered to pay for her board in advance, and Mrs. Dollman, who was quite charmed with the new arrival, promptly closed with her. Nor did she raise any objections when Miss Stratton announced that she wished to bring another boarder with her in the shape of a big Newfoundland dog, who was even now waiting outside for her. In a very short time everything was satisfactorily arranged, and the new boarder installed in comfortable quarters. “This is my sister, Mrs. Twiley,” said Mrs. Dollman some time later. “She and her husband are my only relatives, and whoever knows me, speedily knows them, for they are good enough to spend a great deal of time with me.” “Your sister! You make me feel quite envious. I have neither sister nor brother, and have often felt rather lonely in consequence.” “But you have other relatives?” “Oh, yes! I have the best father in the world. And my aunt—God bless her!—has been the most tender and affectionate of mothers to
- 43. me.” “Then, after all, you ought to be happy, in our opinion, for it has always seemed to us that young people without a parental home are the most to be commiserated.” “And yet, with every possible advantage of home and family, one may be overtaken by troubles beside which the mere death of a loved one is comparative happiness.” As the beautiful stranger uttered the last words, her eyes darkened with grief, and her whole appearance betokened the most bitter sorrow. Both Millie and Phœbe were stricken with sudden awe before this brief glimpse of an anguish which evidently surpassed anything they had ever dreamed of, and their hearts went out tenderly towards Miss Stratton. Very quickly, however, the latter regained control of herself, and five minutes later the sisters were ready to doubt whether she was not one of the happiest of mortals. “Have you any boarders in the house, Mrs. Dollman?” she inquired presently, while occupied in despatching the refreshing meal which had been promptly ordered for her. As she waited for a reply she toyed with her teaspoon, patted her big dog on the head, and altogether looked so carelessly unconcerned, that much more suspicious people than those she had to deal with would have been slow to fancy that her question was one of vital import to her, or that she was listening for the reply with every nerve tingling with anxiety. “Only four,” was Phœbe’s answer. “We have a Mr. Everton and his wife. They have been here six months, and are likely to remain here. Then there are two single gentlemen, Mr. Grice and Mr. Staines.” Miss Stratton’s heart leapt at this answer, yet she received it with apparent indifference, although it relieved her of a great anxiety. Suppose Mr. Gregory Staines, whose presence here was really her sole reason for coming to Lina, had suddenly taken it into his head to seek fresh quarters! She did not doubt her ability to trace him
- 44. again. But each delay that occurred before running the man to earth prolonged the sufferings of the man whose liberty she had sworn to secure, and she was thankful to have found him at last. Contrary to Phœbe’s expectation, she betrayed not the slightest further interest in the other lodgers, but conversed for awhile pleasantly on other topics, inquiring carefully about the neighbouring scenery under the pretence of being anxious to take some local views. “My artistic work is not necessarily bread and butter to me,” she observed. “But I naturally wish to do as well as possible while I am here, as they may not be willing to spare me from home long.” “I would like to see your sketches, if you don’t mind showing them to us,” said Millie. “And you shall see them,” was the answer. “But not this evening. I suppose my box will be here soon, but by the time I have unpacked what is necessary, I shall be ready to go to bed, for I am very tired with travelling.” And this excuse, although not quite in accordance with Una Stratton’s ultimate intentions, served to secure her the privacy she desired for the rest of the evening. She had casually learned that the other boarders were out, and that they were not likely to put in an appearance until sometime later. “Mr. and Mrs. Everton are spending the day with some friends in Gibraltar. Mr. Grice never comes in until eight o’clock, and Mr. Staines’ movements are so uncertain that we never know whether he will be in to supper or not. We generally have it soon after eight, and spend the rest of the evening at cards or music. We shall be very glad of your company. But are you quite sure that you will like the room you have chosen? As a rule, ladies do not feel so safe in a bedroom on the ground floor, and I have a chamber on the third floor, quite as pretty, if you would prefer it.”
- 45. But to this suggestion Una, as we will at present call the girl in whom the reader has already recognised Annie Cory, returned a negative answer, saying that she preferred not to take her dog up and down the stairs. “He always sleeps in my room,” she added, “and is such a splendid protector that I could not possibly feel nervous with him near me. I could not answer for his carefulness with the stair carpets, and always prefer to keep him to the ground floor.” This sounded plausible enough, and Millie remarked with a laugh that it would be a bold burglar who would dare to invade a room guarded by so powerful an animal. “I think so too,” said Una. “But he is as gentle as a lamb, unless bidden to be otherwise, and I am sure you will like him. Eh, Briny? You are a dear old thing, aren’t you?” Briny acknowledged the compliment by a stately wave of his tail, and by gently inserting his nose in the hand of his mistress, knowing that she always had a caress to spare for him. Soon after Miss Stratton had retired with her dog to her own room, Millie’s husband came to see his sister-in-law, and to escort his wife home to their quarters. The new arrival was liberally discussed and enthusiastically praised. But Sergeant-Major Twiley was disposed to receive all praises of the beautiful stranger cum grano salis, and rather hurt the feelings of his women-folks by offering to go round to a certain English hotelkeeper to have a look at the London directory, which served as a sort of guarantee to the bona fides of would-be creditors. He found nothing, however, but a substantiation of the new lodger’s statements. The name and address she had given both tallied with those in the directory. So Sergeant-Major Twiley was reassured, and the ladies found their convictions confirmed.
- 46. But what would the three of them have thought if they could have seen what was now going on in the room to which the supposed Miss Stratton had retired, avowedly with the object of securing a good night’s rest?
- 48. CHAPTER XVII. RUNNING HIM DOWN. “Now, Briny,” said Miss Stratton, having assured herself that there was no possibility of her either being overseen or overheard, “we shall have to be smart lest we startle our game too soon again. I think that with all his attempts at disguise it will take him all his time to deceive me. I wonder what he will think of me when he comes under the spell of the fascinations I mean to exercise over him? H’m! Perhaps he is not very susceptible, and won’t be fascinated. In that case, I mean to work upon another tack. I only hope that I have studied the art of make-up sufficiently to prevent me from committing a hopeless blunder. Madame D’Alterre charged plenty for her instructions, and, so far, I am doing credit to them.” As Miss Stratton talked to her dog, she patted and caressed him, and altogether treated him as if he could understand every word she said. For his part, he made no noisy demonstrations of approval, but showed his sympathy and appreciation in his own dignified way. Then he laid himself beside the door and watched the transformation which his mistress soon began to make in her appearance. Truth to say, the change effected was sufficiently startling to deceive even the keenest observer, and perhaps Briny himself would have been at fault if he had not been already initiated into some of his owner’s curious habits. In about an hour Miss Stratton was nowhere to be seen, and in her place stood the young gentleman who has been introduced to the reader as Mr. Bootle. Enjoining the dog to remain at his post, Mr. Bootle put the light out, after placing some matches ready for use.
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