_BARRY WAXES ELOQUENT_
Barry Tuxford did not confine his attention to racing while in Sydney.
He knew there were far more profitable games for making money, and being
an old hand at most of them he speculated in various concerns, inducing
Jack to follow his lead. They had no news of the pearling fleet, but
this was not to be expected, as there were very few means of
communication. There was, however, no cause for uneasiness with two such
men as Danks and Hake in command, and Harry Marton to superintend.
Jack often thought of Harry and wondered what he was doing. He fancied
it was rather like desertion to leave him, but Barry quickly dispelled
this idea and said Harry was far more fitted for the task he was engaged
upon than knocking about Sydney.
"It would not suit him here," he said, "and as you know, he has a horror
of stocks and shares, which I do not wonder at, after the experiences
his father had. I have more good news, Jack," he added, as he tossed him
a letter to read.
Jack read it eagerly, and could hardly believe in his good luck. The
Great Tom Mine had again struck it rich, and the shares had gone up by
leaps and bounds; there was every prospect of his being a comparatively
rich man in a very short time.
"And that's not all," said Barry, "I cabled to my agent in Perth, to buy
every share he could secure at a certain price. That was before the new
find, and he secured a nice parcel. You stand in of course."
"I could not think of it," said Jack, "it would not be fair, you have
done too much for me already."
"Not at all; it is a pleasure to help a man like you; there are some
fellows I would not lend a hand to at any price, but you are different.
I am old enough to be your father, and damn me, if I don't feel
something like that towards you," he added in an outburst of genuine
feeling such as he seldom displayed.
Jack felt strangely drawn towards the bluff good-hearted Colonial. He
had found out his true worth and knew him for what he was. There were
men who almost hated Barry, but it was because he fought fair and
square, and managed to beat them despite their underhand methods.
"I'm a lonely sort of man," went on Barry, "always have been, and I
expect always shall be. I never 'cottoned' to a fellow as I have done to
you, and I don't mind telling you, if you stick to me I'll see you all
right, no matter what happens."
This was too much for Jack Redland. He grasped his friend's hand, and
wrung it hard, but he did not speak. He could not. He knew every word
Barry spoke he meant and there was a strange knocking at his heart as he
looked at him.
"I'm an old fool, I know I am to rave like this," said Barry, "but I
can't help it, and that's a fact. I've roamed about the world a lot,
roughed it, and it's taken the gilt edges off, if there were ever any
on; but you've knocked me all of a heap, Jack. Don't talk about my luck,
it's yours that has stuck to me. I have had nothing but good fortune
since I met you. My first pearling venture turned out a frost. You come
along, and what do we get? We not only rummage out old Jacob Rank on his
desert island, or whatever it may be, and rescue him, but we find a heap
of pearls, a mighty lot of good shells, the best black pearl ever hauled
out on the northern coast, and to cap all, we have a deal with that old
shark, Silas Filey, that licks creation. Don't talk to me about luck,
you're a regular living mascot, that's what you are."
The tension was relieved at this outburst, and Jack laughed heartily.
"Keep it up, skipper," he said, merrily. "Now you are under full sail
let her go; I like to hear you, it does me good; it's as refreshing as a
blow on the Sussex Downs. Don't let the wind drop yet, Barry, please
don't."
"Stow your chaff and listen to me," said Barry, now thoroughly wound up.
He was on the tide of a big success, and felt the force of it. "You came
out here to make a fortune, and by Captain Cook, you shall get it. When
you landed at Fremantle there was no hanky panky about you. Then you
were a born gentleman, a swell. Oh, you needn't remonstrate! I'm not a
wall-eyed kangaroo, or a burst-up emu. Oh, dear no! nothing of the sort!
I'm Barry Tuxford, knockabout, good for nothing, up to everything, and I
know a swell when I see one, although it has not been my fortune to meet
many.
"I'm a Colonial, have always been fond of a rough life, but I know what
it means for a man of your stamp to tackle a God-forsaken pearl fishing
job. I liked you when you buckled to and never grumbled, and I admired
your pluck when you planked down the money for those shares. I have seen
men who call themselves swells do dirty mean tricks no straight man
would be guilty of. They are not my sort. I couldn't sit down to eat my
meals with a lot of swollen-headed nobodies. That's not my way. Let a
man say what he thinks and speak out straight, then you know where you
are. Judging from what I've seen, there must be some fine schools for
liars in the old country; they seem educated up to it somehow."