Part 11 (1/2)

This threw me out, for I knew that the second mate would not have power to receive me on board, and I did not like the thought of having to confront the captain in an office full of clerks. I therefore, losing courage, turned round and walked on sh.o.r.e again. Still I could not tear myself from the s.h.i.+p, but continued pacing backwards and forwards, now taking a look at her lofty masts and spars, now at her hull freshly painted, now at the men working at the cranes and tackles hoisting in cargo.

While I was thus engaged a sailor-like man, who I supposed was an officer, stopped near me.

”Please, sir,” I said, ”could you tell me where that s.h.i.+p is going to?”

”Yes, my lad. She's bound out by Cape Horn into the Pacific, and up the west coast of America, and perhaps to go across to Australia, and may be away for two or three years.”

”Thank you, sir,” I said. ”She's a very fine s.h.i.+p.”

”As to that there are many finer, but she's a tidy craft in her way,”

remarked the seaman, turning on his heel.

”Now that is just the sort of voyage I should like to make. To double great Cape Horn. What a grand idea! And visit the country of the Incas and Peruvians, and the wonderful coral islands of the Pacific. I am much inclined to ask Mr b.u.t.terfield if he can get me on board her.

Perhaps she's one of his s.h.i.+ps, and I shall then very likely come back as a mate. I might have to remain a long time in the navy before I became a lieutenant, and after all perhaps one might enjoy a much more independent life in the merchant service.

”Yes, I'll ask the old gentleman; but then I'm afraid Aunt Deb will interfere. She doesn't want me to go to sea, and she'll say all sorts of things to prevent him doing what I wish. There's nothing like trying, however; and if he agrees, I must get him to obtain Aunt Deb's consent to my going. I'm sure my father won't make any objection.”

Having arrived at this conclusion, I was now eager to get back to have a talk with Mr b.u.t.terfield. I forgot that he was not likely to leave his office till much later in the day. I had become desperately hungry also, and as I had come out without any money in my pocket, I was unable to buy a bun or a roll to appease my appet.i.te. I set off, fancying that I should have no difficulty in finding my way, but I wandered about for a couple of hours or more before I succeeded in getting back to Mr b.u.t.terfield's house.

Aunt Deb received me with a frown.

”Now where have you been all this time?” she asked. ”I've had luncheon an hour or so, or more. I suppose the servant has cleared the things away, and you can't expect her to bring them up again for your pleasure.”

”Thank you, Aunt Deb,” I answered. ”But I'll just run and see.”

To my infinite satisfaction, on going into the parlour I found the table still covered with roast beef, and pies, tarts, and puddings; for Mr b.u.t.terfield liked the good things of this life, and wished his friends to enjoy them also. Didn't I tuck in. I often afterwards thought of that luncheon; it presented itself to me in my dreams; I recollected it with longing affection during my waking hours. I helped myself to two or three gla.s.ses of wine to wash down the food. With a sigh of regret I felt that I could eat no more. I then stowed myself away in a comfortable arm-chair in the corner of the room, and very naturally fell fast asleep. I had a dim recollection of seeing Aunt Deb come into the room to look for me, but as I didn't speak, she left the room supposing that I had gone out of the house to take another walk. When I awoke Martha was laying the things for dinner.

”Why, Master Cheveley, Miss Deborah has been asking for you for ever so long,” she said. ”You had better go and see her, for she's in a dreadful taking, I can a.s.sure you.”

I knew Aunt Deb too well to venture into her presence under the circ.u.mstances if I could avoid it, so I ran into my room, washed my hands, and brushed my hair, so as to present myself in a respectable state before Mr b.u.t.terfield. I watched for him till he went into the drawing-room, and then followed. Aunt Deb had not yet come down. I was thinking of asking him about my going to sea on board the ”Emu.” He didn't give me the opportunity, but he at once questioned me as to what I had seen in the city.

”You think Liverpool a very fine place?” he remarked.

”Yes, sir, a very fine place indeed,” I answered boldly.

But when he came to inquire where I had been, and what part I admired most, I was nonplussed, and had nothing to say about the matter. My thoughts had been entirely occupied with the docks and the s.h.i.+pping.

”Ah, yes, Liverpool has become an important port; superior to Bristol, or Hull; and some day we shall be equal to London, we flatter ourselves.”

I thought this would be a good opportunity of telling him how fond I was of the sea, and that I hoped he would let me go on board one of his s.h.i.+ps, when just at that moment Aunt Deb entered. She began scolding me for having absented myself so long from her, but Mr b.u.t.terfield interfered.

”The lad naturally wishes to see a new place, where he may spend some time perhaps. So don't be too hard on him, Cousin Deborah.”

We soon went down to dinner, and Aunt Deb said no more. I ate as many of the good things as I could, but after so large a luncheon I had less room than usual. Mr b.u.t.terfield placed my moderation to the score of my modesty.

”Come, come, lad, eat away,” he said. ”These things were given to us for our benefit, and can't fail to do us good.”

I at last had to give in, letting Martha take away my plate with a large portion of its contents untasted. I should have liked to have remained to talk to Mr b.u.t.terfield when Aunt Deb retired, but she insisted on my coming up, afraid that the old gentleman in his hospitality would be giving me more wine than would be good for me. I had thus no opportunity of talking to him alone. The following morning I begged leave to go out again. Mr b.u.t.terfield willingly consented, though Aunt Deb observed that I should be better employed at home summing and writing.