Part 42 (1/2)

CHAPTER THIRTY.

CHANGES THE SCENE SOMEWHAT VIOLENTLY, AND SHOWS OUR HERO IN A NEW LIGHT.

The result of our hero's consultation with the scout was not quite as satisfactory as it might have been. Charlie had hoped that Hunky Ben would have been able to stay with Shank till he should return from the old country, but found, to his regret, that that worthy was engaged to conduct still further into the great western wilderness a party of emigrants who wished to escape the evils of civilisation, and to set up a community of their own which should be founded on righteousness, justice, and temperance.

”You see, sir,” said the scout, ”I've gi'n them my promise to guide them whenever they're ready to start, so, as they may git ready and call for my services at any moment, I must hold myself free o' other engagements.

To say truth, even if they hadn't my promise I'd keep myself free to help 'em, for I've a likin' for the good man--half doctor, half parson as well as Jack-of-all-trades--as has set the thing agoin'--moreover, I've a strong belief that all this fightin', an' scalpin', an' flayin'

alive, an roastin', an' revenge, ain't the way to bring about good ends either among Red men or white.”

”I agree with you heartily, Ben, though I don't very well see how we are to alter it. However, we must leave the discussion of that difficulty to another time. The question at present is, what hope is there of your staying here even for a short time after I leave? for in d.i.c.k Darvall's present condition of mind he is not much to be depended on, and Jackson is too busy. You see, I want Shank to go out on horseback as much as possible, but in this unsettled region and time he would not be safe except in the care of some one who knew the country and its habits, and who had some sort of sympathy with a broken-down man.”

”All I can say, Mr Brooke, is that I'll stay wi' your friend as long as I can,” returned the scout, ”an' when I'm obleeged to make tracks for the west, I'll try to git another man to take my place. Anyhow, I think that Mr Reeves--that's the name o' the good man as wants me an' is boss o' the emigrants--won't be able to git them all ready to start for some weeks yet.”

Charlie was obliged to content himself with this arrangement. Next day he was galloping eastward--convoyed part of the way by the scout on Black Polly and d.i.c.k Darvall on Wheelbarrow. Soon he got into the region of railways and steam-boats, and, in a few weeks more was once again in Old England.

A post-card announced his arrival, for Charlie had learned wisdom from experience, and feared to take any one ”by surprise”--especially his mother.

We need not describe this second meeting of our hero with his kindred and friends. In many respects it resembled the former, when the bad news about Shank came, and there was the same conclave in Mrs Leather's parlour, for old Jacob Crossley happened to be spending a holiday in Sealford at the time.

Indeed he had latterly taken to spending much of his leisure time at that celebrated watering-place, owing, it was supposed, to the beneficial effect which the sea-air had on his rheumatism.

But May Leather knew better. With that discriminating penetration which would seem to be the natural accompaniment of youth and beauty, she discerned that the old gentleman's motive for going so frequently to Sealford was a compound motive.

First, Mr Crossley was getting tired of old bachelorhood, and had at last begun to enjoy ladies' society, especially that of such ladies as Mrs Leather and Mrs Brooke, to say nothing of May herself and Miss Molloy--the worsted reservoir--who had come to reside permanently in the town and who had got the ”Blackguard Boy” into blue tights and b.u.t.tons, to the amazement and confusion of the little dog Scraggy, whose mind was weakened in consequence--so they said. Second, Mr Crossley was remarkably fond of Captain Stride, whom he abused like a pick-pocket and stuck to like a brother, besides playing backgammon with him nightly, to the great satisfaction of the Captain's ”missus” and their ”little Mag.”

Third, Mr Crossley had no occasion to attend to business, because business, somehow, attended to itself, and poured its profits perennially into the old gentleman's pocket--a pocket which was never full, because it had a charitable hole in it somewhere which let the cash run out as fast as it ran in. Fourth and last, but not least, Mr Crossley found considerable relief in getting away occasionally from his worthy housekeeper Mrs Bland. This relief, which he styled ”letting off the steam” at one time, ”brus.h.i.+ng away the cobwebs” at another, was invariably followed by a fit of amiability, which resulted in a penitent spirit, and ultimately took him back to town where he remained till Mrs Bland had again piled enough of eccentricity on the safety valve to render another letting off of steam on the sea-sh.o.r.e imperative.

What Charlie learned at the meeting held in reference to the disappearance of old Mr Isaac Leather was not satisfactory. The wretched man had so muddled his brain by constant tippling that it had become a question at last whether he was quite responsible for his actions. In a fit of remorse, after an attack of delirium tremens, he had suddenly condemned himself as being a mean contemptible burden on his poor wife and daughter. Of course both wife and daughter a.s.serted that his mere maintenance was no burden on them at all--as in truth it was not when compared with the intolerable weight of his intemperance-- and they did their best to soothe him. But the idea seemed to have taken firm hold of him, and preyed upon his mind, until at last he left home one morning in a fit of despair, and had not since been heard of.

”Have you no idea, then, where he has gone?” asked Charlie.

”No, none,” said Mrs Leather, with a tear trembling in her eye.

”We know, mother,” said May, ”that he has gone to London. The booking clerk at the station, you know, told us that.”

”Did the clerk say to what part of London he booked?”

”No, he could not remember.”

”Besides, if he had remembered, that would be but a slight clue,” said Mr Crossley. ”As well look for a needle in a bundle of hay as for a man in London.”

”As well go to sea without rudder or compa.s.s,” observed Captain Stride.

”Nevertheless,” said Charlie, rising, ”I will make the attempt.”

”Hopeless,” said Crossley. ”Sheer madness,” added Stride. Mrs Leather shook her head and wept gently. Mrs Brooke sighed and cast down her eyes. Miss Molloy--who was of the council, being by that time cognisant of all the family secrets--clasped her hands and looked miserable.Of all that conclave the only one who did not throw cold water on our hero was pretty little brown-eyed May. She cast on him a look of trusting grat.i.tude which blew a long smouldering spark into such a flame that the waters of Niagara in winter would have failed to quench it.

”I can't tell you yet, friends, what I intend to do,” said Charlie.

”All I can say is that I'm off to London. I shall probably be away some time, but will write to mother occasionally. So good-bye.”