Part 6 (2/2)
”I beg pardon,” said Ned, pausing, ”did you--”
”Oh, it was nothing!” said Lizette; ”I was only going to remark that-- that if you set up in the was.h.i.+ng line, I shall be happy to give you all the work I can.”
”Ahem!” coughed Ned gravely, ”and if we should set up in the _other_ line, will you kindly come and board with us?”
”Hallo, Ned, what's keeping you?” roared the captain.
”Coming,” shouted Ned, as he ran after him. ”Where has Larry O'Neil gone?”
”He's away down before us to have a look at the town. We shall find him, I doubt not, cruising about the quay.”
In a few minutes the three friends were wending their way through the crowded streets back to the sh.o.r.e.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE FATE OF THE ROVING BESS--GAMBLING SCENES--MR. SINTON MAKES A NEW FRIEND--LARRY O'NEIL MAKES MONEY IN STRANGE WAYS--A MURDER, AND A BEGGAR'S DEATH--NED BECOMES A POOR MAN'S HEIR.
The remnant of the cargo of the _Roving Bess_ proved to be worth comparatively little--less even than had been antic.i.p.ated. After a careful inspection, Mr Thompson offered to purchase it ”in the slump”
for 1000 dollars--about 200 pounds sterling. This was a heavy blow to poor Captain Bunting, who had invested his all--the savings of many years--in the present unfortunate venture. However, his was not a nature to brood over misfortunes that could not be avoided, so he accepted the sum with the best grace he might, and busied himself during the next few days in a.s.sisting the merchant to remove the bales.
During this period he did not converse much with any one, but meditated seriously on the steps he ought to take. From all that he heard, it seemed impossible to procure hands to man the s.h.i.+p at that time, so he began to entertain serious thoughts of ”taking his chance” at the diggings after all. He was by nature averse to this, however; and had nearly made up his mind to try to beat up recruits for the s.h.i.+p, when an event occurred that settled the matter for him rather unexpectedly.
This event was the bursting out of a hurricane, or brief but violent squall, which, before a.s.sistance could be procured, dragged the _Roving Bess_ from her moorings, and stranded her upon the beach, just below the town. Here was an end to sea-faring prospects. The whole of his limited capital would not have paid for a tenth part of the labour necessary to refloat the s.h.i.+p, so he resolved to leave her on the beach, and go to the diggings.
Mr Thompson advised him to sell the hull, as it would fetch a good price for the sake of the timber, which at that time was much wanted in the town, but the captain had still a lurking hope that he might get his old s.h.i.+p afloat at some future period, and would not hear of it.
”What,” said he, ”sell the _Roving Bess_, which stands _A1_ at Lloyd's, to be broken up to build gold-diggers houses? I trow not. No, no; let her lie where she is in peace.”
On the day after the squall, as Ned and the captain were standing on the sh.o.r.e regarding their late floating, and now grounded, home in sad silence, a long-legged, lantern-jawed man, in dirty canvas trousers, long boots, a rough coat, and broad straw hat, with an enormous cigar in his mouth, and both hands in his trousers-pockets, walked up and accosted them. It did not require a second glance to know that he was a Yankee.
”Guess that 'ere's pretty wall fixed up, stranger,” he said, addressing the captain, and pointing with his nose to the stranded vessel.
”It is,” answered the captain, shortly.
”Fit for nothin' but firewood, I calculate.”
To this the captain made no reply.
”I say, stranger,” continued the Yankee, ”I wouldn't mind to give 'e 1000 dollars for her slick off.”
”I don't wish to sell her,” replied the captain.
”Say 1500,” replied the man.
”I tell you, I _won't_ sell her.”
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