Having resolved upon returning to his ship--and that very night, if he
can but get a boat--Harry Blew is about to sally forth into the street,
when his egress is unexpectedly prevented. Not by the landlord of the
"Sailor's Home," nor his representative behind the bar. These would
only be too glad to get rid of a guest with two days' reckoning in
arrear. For they have surreptitiously inspected his sea-chest, and
found it to contain a full suit of "Sunday go-ashores," with other
effects, which they deemed sufficient collateral security for the debt.
And as it has been already hypothecated for this, both Boniface and
bar-keeper would rather rejoice to see their sailor-guest clear out of
the "Home" for good, leaving the chest behind him. On this condition
they would be willing to wipe out the debt, both boarding and bar-score.
Harry has no thought of thus parting with his kit. Now that he has
made up his mind to return to the _Crusader_, a better prospect is
opened up to him. He has hopes that on his making appearance aboard,
and again entering his name on the frigate's books, the purser will
advance him a sum sufficient to release his retained chattels. Or, he
can in all likelihood collect the money among his old messmates. Not
for this reason is he so anxious to reach the ship that night, but
because he has no other chance of having any place to sleep in--save the
street. The tavern-keeper has notified him, in plain terms, that he
must peremptorily leave; and he is about to act upon the notification,
and take departure, when prevented, as already said.
What now hinders him from going out of the "Home" is a man coming into
it; or rather two--since two shadows have suddenly darkened the door,
and are projected across the sanded floor of the bar-room. Not like
shadows in the eyes of Harry Blew, but streaks of brightest sunlight!
For in the individuals entering he recognises two of his officers; one
of them his best friend, who saved his life. Crozier and Cadwallader
have discovered him.
At sight of them the discharged sailor salutes promptly, and with as
much respect as if all were on the quarterdeck of the _Crusader_. But
with much more demonstration; for their well-timed appearance draws from
him an exclamation of joy. Jerking off his straw hat, and giving a
twitch to one of his brow-locks, he bobs his head several times in
succession, with a simultaneous back-scrape of his foot upon the floor.
His obeisance ended, he stands silently awaiting whatever communication
the young officers have to make. He is already aware that their
business is with himself: for the bar-room is but dimly lit, and
Crozier, while crossing its threshold, not at once recognising him, had
called out:
"Is there a sailor staying here, by name Harry Blew!"
"Ay, ay, sir!" was the prompt response, the sailor himself giving it,
along with the salutation described.
During the short interval of silence that succeeds, Harry's heart can be
distinctly heard beating. Lately depressed--"Down in the dumps," as he
himself would word it--it is now up in his throat. The sight of his
patron, the saver of his life, is like having it saved a second time.
Perhaps they have come to ask him to rejoin the ship? If so, 'tis the
very thing he was thinking of. He will not anticipate, but waits for
them to declare their errand.
"Well, Harry, old boy," says Crozier, after warmly shaking the sailor's
hand, "I'm right glad to find you here. I was afraid you'd gone off to
the diggings."
"True, Master Ed'ard; I did intend standin' on that tack, but ha'n't
been able to get under way, for want o' a wind."
"Want of a wind? I don't quite understand you."
"Why, you see, sir, I've been a little bit spreeish since comin' ashore,
and my locker's got low--more'n that, it's total cleared out. Though I
suppose there be plenty of gold in them diggin's, it takes gold to get
there; and as I ha'n't any, I'm laid up here like an old hulk foul o' a
mud bank. That's just how it be, gen'lemen."
"In which case, perhaps you mightn't feel indisposed to go to sea
again?"
"Just the thing I war thinkin' o', Master Ed'ard. I'd a'most made up my
mind to it, sir, an' war 'bout startin' to try get aboard the old
_Crusader_, and askin' your honour to ha' my name entered on her books
again. I'm willin' to join for a fresh tarm, if they'll take me."
"They'd take, and be glad to get you, Harry; you may be sure of that.
Such a skilled sailor need never be without a ship, where there's a
British man-of-war within hailing distance. But we don't want you to
join the _Crusader_."
"How is that, sir?"
"Because we can help you to something a little better. At least, it
will be more to your advantage in a pecuniary sense. You wouldn't mind
shipping in a merchant-vessel, with wages three or four times as much as
you can get in a man-of-war? How would you like that, Harry?"
"I'd like it amazin'ly, sir. And for the matter o' being a merchanter,
that's neither here nor there, so long's _you_ recommend it. I'll go as
cook, if you tell me to."
"No, no, Harry, not that," laughingly replies the young officer. "That
would never do. I should pity those who had to eat the dishes you'd
dress for them. Besides, I should be sorry to see you stewing your
strength away in front of a galley-fire. You must do better than that;
and it chances I'm authorised to offer you something better. It's a
berth on board a trading-ship, and one with some special advantages.
She's a Chilian vessel, and her captain is, I believe, either Chilian or
Spanish. That won't make any difference to you?"
"Not a doit, sir. I don't care what the ship's colours be, nor what
country her skipper, so long's he allows good wages an' plenty o' grub."
"And plenty of grog too, Harry?"
"Ay, ay, sir. I confess to a weakness for that--leastways the reg'lar
three times a day."
"No doubt you'll get it, as often as you've a mind. But, Harry, I have
a word to say about that. Besides my interest in your own welfare, I've
another and more selfish one in this Chilian ship. So has Mr
Cadwallader. We both want you to be on your best behaviour during the
trip you're to take in her. On board will be two lady passengers, as
far as Panama; for the ship is bound thither, and for ports beyond--I
believe as far as Valparaiso. But the ladies are to land at Panama;
and, so long as they're with you, you must do everything in your power
to make things agreeable for them. If they should ever be in any
danger--from storm, shipwreck, or otherwise--you'll stand by them?"
"Yes, Harry," adds Cadwallader, "you'll do that, won't you?"
"Lor', your honours!" exclaims the sailor, showing surprise. "Sure ye
needn't put sich a questin to me--a British man-o'-war's man? I'd do
that much, anyhow, out o' sheer starn sense o' duty. But when it comes
to takin' care o' two ladies--to say nothin' about theer bein' so young,
and so beautiful--"
"Avast, Harry! How do you know they are either one or the other?" asks
Crozier, surprised; Cadwallader repeating the question.
"Lor' love ye, masters! Do ye think a common sailor han't got eyes in
his head, for anythin' but ropes an' tar? You forget I war o' the
boat's crew as rowed two sweet creeturs on board the _Crusader_, the
night o' the grand dancin'; and arterward took the same ashore, along
wi' two young gen'lemen, as went to see 'em home. Sure, sirs, actin'
cox on that occasion, I couldn't help hearin' some o' the speeches as
passed in the starn-sheets--tho' they wur spoken in the ears of the
senoritas, soft as the breeze that fanned their fair cheeks, an' brought
the colour out on 'em red as Ribston pippins."
"Avast again, you rascal! So you've been eavesdropping, have you? I
quite forgot you understood Spanish."
"Only a trifle, Master Ed'ard."
"Too much for that occasion."
"Ah! well, your honour, it may stand me in good stead now--aboard the
ship you speak o'."
"Well, Harry, I'm not going to scold you, seeing that you couldn't help
hearing what you did. And now, I may as well tell you that the young
ladies you saw that night in the boat _are_ the same who are to be the
passengers in the Chilian ship. You'll take good care of them, I know."
"That you may depend on, sir. Any one as touches hair o' their heads,
to do 'em an injury, 'll have to tear the whole o' his off the head o'
Harry Blew. I'll see 'em safe to Panama, or never show myself there. I
promise that; an' I think both your honours 'll take the word of a
British man-o'-war's man."
"That's enough--perfectly satisfactory! Now to give you the necessary
directions about joining this ship. She's lying at anchor somewhere
about in the bay. I didn't think of getting her name, but you'll find
her easily enough. An' you needn't go in search of her till you've seen
the gentleman whose name is upon this card. You see: `Don Tomas
Silvestre,' a ship-agent. His office is down in one of the streets by
the strand. Report yourself to him first thing in the morning. In all
likelihood he'll engage you on sight, make out your papers, and give you
full directions for getting aboard the ship. It appears she's short of
hands; indeed, even without a single sailor. _And_, by the way, Harry,
if you apply soon enough, it's good as certain you'll be made mate--
first at that; all the more from your being able to speak Spanish. It's
too late for you to do anything about it to-night; but don't oversleep
yourself. Be at the ship-agent's to-morrow betimes."
"Ye can trust me for that, sir. I'll show my figurehead there first
thing in the mornin'. No fears o' any one getting theer afore me, if
they've not gone a'ready."
"I think no one will be before you--I hope not. Send us word how you
have succeeded, as the _Crusader_ will likely be in port long enough for
us to hear from you. Still, as she may sail on short notice, we may not
see you again. Remember, then, what we've said about the senoritas. We
shall rely upon your fidelity."
"An' well may ye, masters. You can both trust your lives to Harry Blew,
an' those of them as is dear to you."
"All right, old boy!" exclaims Crozier, satisfied. "We must now part;
but let's hope we'll meet again. When you get back to England you know
where to find me. So, good-bye! Give us a grip of your honest fist,
and God bless you!"
Saying this, he grasps the horny hand of the sailor, and warmly presses
it. The pressure is returned by a squeeze that gives assurance of more
than ordinary friendship. It is the grip of true gratitude; and the
look which accompanies it tells of a devoted friendship, bordering on
adoration.
Cadwallader also exchanges a like parting salutation; after which, the
young officers start off, to continue their cruise through the streets
of "Frisko."