Part 92 (1/2)
”But I don't want to fight.”
”Then go.”
”But there ain't nowhere to go, and--Oh, I say, Mayne Gordon, what is a fellow to do?”
”Do what I do,” I said, quickly.
”What's that?”
”Trust to Mr Gunson the same as we have done before.”
”Thank you, Mayne Gordon,” said Gunson, laying his hand on my shoulder; ”but I hardly like exposing you to risk.”
”The danger has not come yet,” I said, smiling, though I confess to feeling uncomfortable. ”Perhaps it never will.”
”At any rate we must be prepared,” said Gunson. ”Only to think of it!
What a little thing influences our careers! I little fancied when I protected that poor little fellow on board the steamer, that in so doing I was jeopardising my prospects just when I was about to make the success of my life.”
”It is unfortunate,” I said.
”Unfortunate, boy?--it is maddening. But for this I should once more have been a rich man.”
I looked at him curiously, and he saw it.
”Yes,” he said, laughingly, ”once more a rich man.”
”Is one any the happier for being rich?” I said.
”Not a bit, my lad. I was rich once, and was a miserable idiot. Mayne, I left college to find myself suddenly in possession of a good fortune,”
he continued, pausing excitedly now, and speaking quicker, for Esau had strolled off to a little distance with Quong. ”Instead of making good use of it, I listened to a contemptible crew who gathered about me, and wasted my money rapidly in various kinds of gambling, so that at the end of a year I was not only penniless, but face to face with half a dozen heavy debts of honour which I knew I must pay or be disgraced. Bah! why am I telling you all this?”
”No, no; don't stop,” I said eagerly; ”tell me all.”
”Well,” he said, ”I will; for I like you, Mayne, and have from the day we first met on board the _Albatross_. It may be a warning to you. No: I will not insult you by thinking you could ever grow up as I did. For to make up for my losings, I wildly plunged more deeply into the wretched mora.s.s, and then in my desperation went to my sister and mother for help.”
”And they helped you?” I said, for he paused.
”Of course, for they loved me in spite of my follies. It was for the last time, I told them, and they signed away every s.h.i.+lling of their fortunes, Mayne, to enable me to pay my debts. And then--”
”And then?” I said, for he had paused again.
”And then I had the world before me, Mayne,” he said, sadly. ”I was free, but I had set myself the task of making money to restore my mother and sister to their old position. I tried first in London, but soon found out it would be vain to try and save a hundredth part of what I ought to pay them, so I tried adventure. There were rumours of gold being discovered in Australia, then in the Malay Peninsula, and again at the Cape, so I went to each place in turn and failed. Other men made fortunes, but I was always unlucky, till once at the Cape, where I hit upon a place that promised well, but my luck was always against me. My tent was attacked one night, and I was left senseless, to come to myself next morning, and find that I had been robbed, and so cruelly ill-used that the sight of one eye was gone for ever, and there was nothing left for me to do but sell my claim for enough money to take me back to England amongst my poor people to be nursed back to health. Then, as I grew strong again, there came rumours of the gold in British Columbia, and I started once more, taking pa.s.sage as a poor man in the steerage, and meeting on board one Mayne Gordon, with whom I became friends. Am I right?”
”Indeed, yes,” I cried, giving him my hand.
”That's well,” he said, smiling. ”Since then I have worked, as you know, for the golden prize that, if it does not make those at home happy, will place them far above want, but always without success, pa.s.sing away from Fort Elk, when there was abundance near, and returning poorer than I went, to find out quite by accident that here was indeed the golden land. Mayne, I have gold worth hundreds of pounds already hidden away safe.”
”I am very, very glad,” I cried. ”But I want to know--”