HUNSTON IS DISPOSED OF.
Yes, there was the continent of Australia.
The ladies came running up on deck at the news, for the first sight of
land after a long voyage is a thing to make your heart beat, however
much you like the sea.
"I can't see anything yet," said little Emily, after peering vainly
through a telescope for five minutes.
"Because you don't get the proper focus," explained young Jack.
"Then you fix it for me, since you are so clever," retorted the young
lady.
"That's an Irish remedy," laughed young Jack.
However, he helped her to fix upon the focus, and then she had the
gratification of seeing the land.
It was a beautiful verdure-clad range of hills that they had first
perceived from the distance, which were half a mile or more inland.
So that they found themselves presently much nearer land than they had
supposed.
It was covered with wild luxuriant vegetation, but it was altogether
uncultivated.
"Harkaway," said Jefferson, as they stood together contemplating the
scene, "this is where Hunston must be dropped ashore."
Harkaway thought it over for a few moments.
"Yes, Jefferson," he said, presently, "I think you are right, this will
do. He can't well starve here, and it will be better than dropping him
amongst the civilised people."
A boat was manned, and provisioned, and lowered.
Then Hunston was brought up from below.
His face had never changed since the first moment that he had recovered
from the great shock of the flogging he had received.
Apparently there was some fixed purpose in his mind now that it would
take much to uproot.
He never said a word when they came to fetch him.
He was not a little anxious to know all about it, but such was his
pride that he would have perished sooner than breathe a word.
As he was lowered into the boat, Harkaway just gave him to understand
what he was going to do in a few hurriedly-chosen words.
"We are going to put you ashore here, Hunston; not that you have any
right to expect the least consideration at our hands, but we do not
wish to have it on our consciences that you have been badly treated by
us. You will be left here, far away from any human habitation, where
you can do no harm, at least, for some time to come. We shall leave you
these provisions, but we have no arms or ammunition to give you."
Hunston listened silently--impassively to these words.
Not the slightest change in the expression of his countenance indicated
that he heard the words which been addressed to him.
"You are going, and our ways through the rest of our lives may be
widely separated. We may never meet again. It will be some
gratification to you to know that you have once more most keenly
disappointed me--that I would have given much to see the least signs of
repentance in you--that the greatest delight would have been for me to
say to myself 'At least I have conquered the evil in that man's nature
by showing him a good return for his vicious acts, and turned a bitter
enemy into a friend,' but that was a forlorn hope. May you live to
repent your evil courses."
Hunston turned.
Not a word escaped him.
The boat pulled off from the vessel, and in the same sullen silence he
was landed with his rations.
There were forty pounds of hard biscuits, a good twenty pounds of salt
beef, besides rice, flour, a jar of water, and other matters which
might be necessary, should he fail to fall in with the means of getting
food and drink for some considerable time.
But when that was gone he might starve.
THE END.