IN WHICH ERNEST MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF E. DUNKSWELL.
MR. SOLOMONS examined the plan again to ascertain the locality of the
state-room which contained the unoccupied berth.
"It is on the other side of the ship from mine," said he. "But we can do
no better."
"Perhaps this gentleman will exchange with you," suggested the clerk.
"I am quite willing to take the young gentleman into my state-room,"
answered the stranger.
"Of course he will take the vacant berth in that room," added Mr.
Solomons, who did not seem to think that the offer of the stranger was
very magnanimous, since the berth in his room could be taken by the next
applicant, whether he was willing or not.
The clerk had written the receipt for the passage money paid him by the
young man, and pushed it across the counter towards him. The name on the
paper was E. Dunkswell. I confess that I was not particularly pleased
with Mr. Dunkswell, and did not care to occupy a state-room with him.
Besides being rather jauntily dressed, he wore too much jewelry to suit
my taste. His speech was somewhat peculiar, and I set him down as a fast
young man. He appeared to be about twenty-one years old, though possibly
he was more than that.
"I have the lower berth in this room," said Mr. Solomons, addressing the
stranger, and pointing to his room on the plan. "It is about the same
kind of a room as your own. If you would exchange berths with me, it
would oblige me very much."
"I should be very happy to accommodate you," replied the fast young man,
"but for particular reasons I desire to occupy the berth I have
engaged."
"My room is just as good as the one you have taken," added Mr. Solomons.
"Very true; but I like the locality of mine better than yours."
It was evident that Mr. Dunkswell had a decided opinion of his own in
this matter; and my kind friend was too much of a gentleman to say
anything more about the exchange. He engaged the berth; but there was
still a hope that an arrangement might be made with the person who had
taken the upper berth in Mr. Solomons' state-room. Just then it occurred
to me, as I saw the clerk writing the receipt for me, that my money was
where I could not get at it in a public place; but it was only a short
distance to the hotel, and I ran over to my room, and put the greater
part of my funds in my wallet. The passage money was paid, and with a
lively emotion of pleasure at the prospect which the ticket opened to
me, I put it into my pocket.
Mr. Solomons then went with me to a banker's, for I had taken his
advice, and resolved to procure a letter of credit on a London banker.
My friend was very much surprised, and I think he was a little
suspicious, when I told him I had over a thousand dollars in my pocket.
The banker gave me a letter of credit for two hundred pounds, and I
deposited a thousand dollars with him, as security. On my return I was
to settle with him for whatever sums I had drawn, and he was to pay me
back the balance, with four per cent. interest. Mr. Solomons was
particular to have it understood by the banker in London that the money
would be drawn by a young man sixteen years of age, and I left my
signature to be forwarded to him.
My business was all done, and I parted with Mr. Solomons, to meet him
again the next day on board the steamer. In the evening, I went up to
Madison Place, and staid till nine o'clock.
"Who do you suppose has been here this afternoon?" asked Kate of me, as
I was taking my leave.
"Not Tom Thornton?" I replied, inquiringly.
"No; the gentleman we saw on the steamboat--your friend; he was with you
to-day."
"Mr. Solomons?"
"Yes; he told me what a lot of money you had, and wanted to know if you
had come honestly by it."
"Well, what did you tell him?" I asked, anxiously.
"I told him the money was rightfully your own. He told me he supposed it
was all right, though over a thousand dollars was a large sum for a mere
boy to have, and manage himself."
I had almost concluded before to tell Mr. Solomons the whole truth in
regard to myself; and the trouble he had taken to satisfy himself of my
honesty, decided me to do so at the first convenient opportunity. I did
not bid Kate a final good-by when I left the house, for Mr. Loraine
promised to take her over to Jersey City, where the steamer lay, to "see
me off." On my way to the hotel, I visited the post-office, as I had
done every day since my arrival in the city. This time I found a letter
from Bob Hale, and I hastened to my room at the hotel to read it.
It was a long letter, full of warm and generous feeling towards me--it
was just like Bob. He informed me that my uncle was apparently as well
as usual; he had gone to the cottage, and inquired of old Betsey. There
had been a great deal of talk about my going off; but no one knew
anything about the real circumstances. Mrs. Loraine had taken pains to
"hush up" the facts in regard to Kate.
"When my father came home," wrote Bob, "I told him your story, as you
wished me to do. He shook his head, and said it was a foolish story, and
he feared you were a bad boy, after all. But when I showed him your
father's will, and he had read it, he caved in like an avalanche. He
told me he thought, from your uncle's singular life, that something
ailed him, and your story explained it perfectly. He was sorry you had
not come to him, instead of going away. I told him you wanted to find
your mother, and cared more for her than you did for the money. He
praised you then, and hoped you would find her. He put the will in his
safe, and you may be sure it will be forthcoming when you want it."
Bob related all the news about the fellows in Parkville, and wished me
to answer his letter immediately. I did so that night, giving him all
the incidents of my trip to New York, and the events which occurred
after my arrival, with my plans for the future. When I went to bed I
could not sleep, I was so excited by the fact that I was going to
England the next day. I trembled when I thought of my mother, and of
what might happen to prevent my finding her. I heard the clock on
Trinity Church strike three before I went to sleep.
It was eight o'clock when I awoke, and I was to be on board the steamer
at ten. I ate my breakfast, paid my bill, and left the hotel with my
valise in my hand. A stage up Greenwich Street carried me nearly to the
ferry, and I reached the steamer half an hour before the appointed time.
I found the state-room which I was to share with "E. Dunkswell," where I
left my valise, the evidence of my respectability, and then went on
deck. Mr. Loraine and Kate soon appeared, and I spent the time with them
until those not going in the ship were required to leave. Kate cried
then; I took her hand and kissed her--I could not help it. We parted as
brother and sister would part, and I watched her on the wharf until she
could no longer be seen. The ponderous wheels of the great ship
revolved, and we moved slowly down the harbor.
I was excited by the scene and its surroundings, by the thought that I
was leaving the land where I had lived from my childhood, and more than
all by the reflection that I was going to seek and find my mother.
Everything was new and strange to me. I wandered through every part of
the ship open to a passenger. I gazed at the shores, and I studied the
faces of my fellow-voyagers. Off Sandy Hook the pilot was discharged,
and the prow of the noble steamer pointed out to the middle of the great
ocean that rolled between me and my mother. The excitement on board
began to subside; the passengers went below to arrange their state-rooms
for the voyage.
When I first went on board I entered the dining saloon, where I found a
few passengers selecting their seats at the tables. Mr. Solomons had
told me in travelling to do as others did; so I took a couple of cards,
wrote my friend's name on one and my own on the other, and pinned them
to the table-cloth, as near the head of the captain's table as I could
find two vacant places. This secured us pleasant seats for the voyage,
and Mr. Solomons was pleased with my thoughtfulness, as he called it.
Before we reached Sandy Hook, he proposed to his room-mate to exchange
berths with me; but when Mr. Dunkswell was pointed out to him as the
person whose state-room he was to share, he politely but regretfully
declined to do so, leaving his reasons to be inferred, for he did not
give them.
When the gong sounded for lunch, at twelve o'clock, I found to my
surprise that Mr. Dunkswell had taken the seat next to mine. I was
rather prejudiced against him; partly because he refused to exchange
berths with my friend, and partly because Mr. Solomons' room-mate did
not like him well enough to exchange with me. He was very polite to me,
and seemed to be strongly inclined to cultivate an intimacy with me. I
could not do less than be civil to him. He invited me to drink wine with
him at lunch, and to smoke his cigars afterwards, neither of which I
could do.
At four we dined, and Mr. Dunkswell renewed his efforts to be intimate
with me; and the more he persevered, the more he didn't accomplish
anything. I did not like him, and I could not like him. At dinner he
drank more wine than his head could bear, and this did not make him any
more agreeable to me. After dinner, Mr. Solomons and myself took seats
upon the hurricane deck. He mentioned that he had called to see Kate
the preceding evening, and this afforded me an opportunity to tell my
story, to which my friend listened with the deepest interest.
He assured me that I had done right; that it was my duty to find my
mother; that the fact of my uncle's misapplying my father's fortune
justified me in taking the money and the papers from the safe. He
commended me for my spirit, and for my devotion to my mother. If I had
not felt sure of his approbation beforehand, I suppose I should not have
had the courage to tell him my history. At half past seven we went down
to tea; and this time Mr. Dunkswell did not make his appearance.
After a promenade on deck till nine o'clock, I found myself tired enough
to retire, and more inclined to sleep than I had been before since I
left Parkville. I went to my state-room, and found the door locked on
the inside. I knocked, but Mr. Dunkswell, politely but in rather muddled
tones, requested me to wait a moment. I did wait a moment, and was
admitted. My room-mate was tipsy, but not enough so to make him anything
more than silly. He was lying in his berth, with his clothes off Having
occasion to open my valise, I found the contents in a very confused
state, and not as I had left them. I was somewhat startled, and hastened
to examine further. I had put my letter of credit, and about two hundred
dollars in bank bills, in my money belt. The letters I had taken from my
uncle's safe I had deposited in my valise. They could be of no value to
any one on board but myself, and I thought they would be safe in the
state-room.
They were not safe; to my astonishment and dismay, they were not to be
found. I had placed them under my best suit, and they were certainly
gone. The confusion in my valise indicated that they had been stolen.