That was really the prime difficulty in our leaving England--to keep
Mrs Dean's ideas of necessaries within bounds. Poor little woman! She
could not, try how her son and I would to make her, understand what was
the meaning of simple necessaries.
"Now it's of no use for you to fly in a passion with your poor mother,
Esau," she used to say. "I've consented to go with you to this wild
savage land, but I must have a few things to make the house comfortable
when we get there."
"But don't I tell you you can't take 'em, because they won't have 'em
aboard ship; and you can't stuff 'em in a waggon and carry 'em millions
of miles when you get across."
"If you wouldn't be so unreasonable, Esau. There, I appeal to Mr
Gordon."
"So do I," roared Esau. "Does mother want a great ironing-board?"
"No," I said; "we can make you hundreds out there."
"Oh dear me. You'll say next I mustn't take my blankets and sheets."
"You must only take what you can pack in one big chest," I said.
"But no chest would hold what I want to take," whimpered the poor little
woman. "I declare if I'd known that I was to give up everything I have
scraped together all these years I wouldn't have consented to go. Here,
Esau, what are you going to do with those ornaments?"
"Set 'em aside for the broker."
"Esau, I must take them."
"All right, mother. We'll have a ship on purpose for you, and you shall
take the kitchen fender, the coal-scuttle, the big door-mat, and the old
four-post bedstead."
"Oh, thank you, my dear; that is good of--Esau! you're laughing at me,
and you too, Mr Gordon. I declare it's too bad."
"So it is, mother--of you. Once for all, I tell you that you must pack
things that will be useful in one big chest, and you can take a few
things that you'll want on the voyage and in the waggon in a carpet
bag."
"But it's ruinous, my dear--all my beautiful things I've taken such
pride in to be sacrificed."
"Oh, do hark at her!" cried Esau, sticking two fingers in his ears, and
stamping about. "I wish to goodness I'd never had no mother."
"Then you're a cruel, ungrateful boy, and you'll break my heart before
you've done. Mr Gordon, what am I to do?"
"To try and think that we are going to start a new life, and that when
Esau makes a new home for you, all these household things can be got
together by degrees."
"But it's ruin, my dear. All these things will go for nothing."
"They won't, I tell you," roared Esau. "How many more times am I to
tell you that Dingle will give us fifty pounds for 'em? Him and another
man's joining, and they're going to put 'em in sales; and if they don't
make so much, we've got to pay them, and if they make more, Dingle's
going to pay us. What more do you want?"
"Nothing, my dear; I've done," said Mrs Dean in a resigned tone, such
as would have made a bystander think that the whole business was
settled. It was not, however, for the next day most likely the whole
argument would be gone through again about some trifle.
Meanwhile I had been helping Mr John, and here Mr Dingle's knowledge
came in very helpful, and he devoted every spare minute he had, working
so well, that he arranged with one of our well-known auctioneers to take
the furniture of the cottage, and triumphantly brought Mr John a cheque
for far more than he expected to receive.
One way and another, Mr John was well provided with funds, laughingly
telling me he had never been so rich before, as I went with him to his
landlord's to give up the key of the pleasant little house.
For during the rapidly passing days of that fortnight everything had
been settled, a passage had been secured for Mrs Dean in the same
vessel by which Mr and Mrs John were going, and it had been finally
decided that Esau and I were to go by quite a different route. For
while they were to go by swift steamer across to Quebec, and from there
through Canada with one or other of the waggon-trains right to Fort Elk,
on the upper waters of the Fraser, we lads were, after seeing the little
party off to Liverpool, to go on board the _Albatross_, a clipper ship
bound from London to the River Plate, and round by Cape Horn to San
Francisco, from which port we were to find our way north the best way we
could.
There would be no difficulty, we were told, for vessels often sailed
from the Golden Gate to the mouth of the Fraser, but our voyage would be
slow.
It would be rapid though compared to the land journey across the
prairies. Our trip would probably last five months, more if our stay at
San Francisco were long; but allowing for halts at the settlements, and
the deliberate way in which, for Mrs John's benefit, the journey was to
be made, their trip would extend to a year--probably more.
Mr John had gone through it all with me again and again, reading long
extracts from his brother-in-law's letter written expressly for their
guidance, till I knew them pretty well by heart. In these he was told
to hasten on to the high and mountainous lands, for it was there the
advantage to Mrs John would be. They would find it cold as the autumn
passed into winter during their journey, intensely cold, perhaps; but it
would be bright and sunshiny as a rule, and the clear pure air of the
elevated regions gave health and strength.
I thought a great deal about it, and felt puzzled sometimes, wondering
whether it could be wise to take a delicate woman all that tremendous
distance. But I was too young, I thought, to have opinions worth
consideration, and I always came to the conclusion that my elders must
know best.
Then came the day for parting, so quickly that I could hardly believe
it. The luggage had gone on some days before to Liverpool, and there
were Esau and I seeing after the few things that were to accompany the
travellers in their cabins, as we stood on the platform at Euston.
Mrs John looked terribly thin and worn, more suited, I thought, for
going at once to her bed than to venture on such a terrible journey; but
there was a bright, hopeful look in her eyes as I helped her to her
seat, and she spoke quite cheerily as she held my hand, Mr John holding
the other, and we occupied ourselves with our final good-byes, so as not
to notice Mrs Dean and her son. But I could not help hearing Esau's
words--
"Oh, I say, mother, don't--don't! You must get to your seat now.
There, good-bye, dear. It isn't so very far after all, and we'll be
there waiting for you, and ready to welcome you when you come."
"But is it right, dear?" she said; "is it right?"
"'Course it is. Don't turn coward. You must go now all the things are
sold."
There was a final embrace; Mrs Dean was hurried into her seat, the door
closed; Mr John pressed my hand hard without a word, and Mrs John put
her arms about my neck and kissed me.
"God bless you! _au revoir_!" she said.
"Stand back, sir, please," some one shouted; the engine gave a piercing
shriek, and Esau and I stood on the stone platform watching the train
glide away with many a head out of the window, and hand and kerchief
waving growing more and more confused, while a sense of desolation and
loneliness oppressed me till I quite started at my companion's words.
"Oh, won't poor mother have a big cry up in a corner all the way down.
It's very rum, but I suppose she is fond of me."
"Fond of you?" I said; "of course."
"Well," he said, "here we are, passages paid, and all that money in our
pockets, and nothing to do for two days. What shall us do--go and have
a bit of fun, or get on board at the docks?"
"Get on board the _Albatross_," I said. "There don't seem to me as if
there is any more fun in the world."
"Well now, that is a strange thing," said Esau; "that's just how I feel.
Look here."
"What at?"
"I feel just in the humour for it--as cross and nasty as can be. Let's
go and say good-bye to old Demp."
But we did not; we went sadly to the docks, where our boxes already
were, and that night took possession of our berths.