Part 19 (1/2)

”Yes; it puzzles me,” he said. ”We got from coolish weather into hotter; then into hot, and then it grew cooler again, and now it's cold; and that Mr Gunson says as soon as we're round the Horn we shall get into wet weather, and then it will be warmer every day once more.”

And so it of course proved, for as we rounded the Cape, and got into the Pacific, we gradually left behind mountains with snow in the hollows and dark-looking pine trees, to go sailing on slowly day after day through dreary, foggy wet days. Then once more into suns.h.i.+ne, with distant peaks of mountain points on our right, as we sailed on within sight of the Andes; and then on for weeks till we entered the Golden Gates, and were soon after at anchor off San Francisco.

Seventeen weeks after we had come out of the West India Docks, and every one said we had had a capital pa.s.sage, and I suppose it was; but we pa.s.sed through a very dreary time, and it is impossible to describe the feeling of delight that took possession of us as we looked from the deck at the bright, busy-looking city, with its forest of masts, tall houses, and dry, bare country round.

Esau and I were leaning against the bulwarks, gazing at the sh.o.r.e, upon which we were longing to set foot, when Gunson, who had all through the voyage been distant and rather surly, came up behind us.

”Well, youngsters,” he said, ”going ash.o.r.e?”

”Yes,” I said, ”as soon as we can get our chests.”

”Well, good-bye, and good luck to you. Got any money?”

”A little,” I replied, rather distantly, for I did not like the man's manner.

He saw it, and laughed.

”Oh, I'm not going to beg or borrow,” he said roughly. ”I was only going to say put it away safe, and only keep a little out for use.”

”Oh, we're not fools,” said Esau, shortly.

”Don't tell lies, boy,” said the man, giving him an angry look. ”Don't you be too clever, because you'll always find some one cleverer. Look here,” he continued, turning to me, ”perhaps you're not quite so clever as he is. I thought I'd just say a word before I go about the people here. There's plenty of a good sort, but there's a set hanging about the wharfs and places that will be on the look-out to treat you two lads like oranges--suck you dry, and then throw away the skins. Going to stop here?”

”No,” I said; ”we are going up country to join some friends.”

”Then you get up country and join your friends as soon as you can.

That's all. Good-bye.”

He nodded shortly at me, but did not offer to shake hands.

”Good-bye, sharp 'un,” he growled at Esau.

”Good-bye,” said Esau, defiantly, and then the man turned away.

”Never did like chaps with one eye,” said Esau. ”Strikes me that he's pretending to be so innocent, and all the while he's just the sort of fellow to try and cheat you.”

”Oh no,” I said; ”he's not a pleasant fellow, but I think he's honest.”

”I don't,” cried Esau. ”He took a fancy to that four-bladed knife of mine on the voyage, and he has been waiting till he was going to leave the s.h.i.+p. I'm not going to make a row about it, 'cause I might be wrong; but I had that knife last night, and this morning it's gone.”

”And you think he stole it?”

”I shan't say one thing nor I shan't say another. All I know is, that my knife's gone.”

”But hadn't you better have him stopped and searched?”

”What, and if the knife ain't found, have him glaring at me with that eye of his as if he would eat me? Not I. We're in a strange country, with 'Mericans, and Indians, and Chinese all about, and we've got to be careful. All I say is, my knife's gone.”