Great was the amazement and perplexity of Reginald Redding when his
faithful cook returned to the Cliff Fort bearing the elder McLeod's
message. At first he jumped to the conclusion that McLeod had observed
his affection for Flora, and meant thus to give him a broad hint that
his addresses were not agreeable. Being, like McLeod, an angry man, he
too became somewhat blind. All his pride and indignation were aroused.
The more he brooded over the subject, however, the more he came to see
that this could not be the cause of McLeod's behaviour. He was terribly
perplexed, and, finally, after several days, he determined to go down to
the scene of the wreck and demand an explanation.
"It is the proper course to follow," he muttered to himself, one day
after breakfast, while brooding alone over the remnants of the meal,
"for it would be unjust to allow myself to lie under a false imputation,
and it would be equally unjust to allow the McLeods to remain under a
false impression. Perhaps some enemy may have put them against me.
Anyhow, I shall go down and try to clear the matter up. If I succeed--
well. If not--"
His thoughts were diverted at this point by the entrance of Bob Smart.
That energetic individual had been to visit the frost-bitten seamen, for
whose comfort an old out-house had been made weather-tight, and fitted
up as a rough-and-ready hospital.
"They're all getting on famously," said Bob, rubbing his hands, as he
sat down and pulled out the little black pipe, to which he was so much
addicted. "Green's left little toe looks beautiful this morning, quite
red and healthy, and, I think, won't require amputation, which is well,
for it is doubly a _left_ little toe since you cut off the right one
yesterday. His big toe seems to my amateur eye in a thoroughly
convalescent state, but his left middle finger obviously requires
removal. You'll do it to-day, I suppose?"
"Yes, I meant to do it yesterday," answered Redding, with much gravity,
"but gave it another chance. How's Brixton?"
"Oh, he's all right. He groans enough to make one believe he's the
worst of 'em all, but his hurts are mostly skin deep, and will heal no
doubt in course of time. His nose, certainly, looks blobby enough, like
an over-ripe plum, and I rather think it's that which makes him growl so
horribly; but after all, it won't be shortened more than quarter of an
inch, which will be rather an advantage, for it was originally too long.
Then as to Harper and Jennings, they are quite cheery and their
appetites increasing, which is the best of signs, though, I fear, poor
fellows, that the first will lose a hand and the other a foot. The
dressings you put on yesterday seem to have relieved them much. I wish
I could say the same for the poor nigger. His foot is sure to go. It's
in such a state that I believe the cleverest surgeon alive couldn't save
it, and, even if he could, what's left of it would be of no use. You
know I have a mechanical turn, and could make him a splendid wooden leg
if you will pluck up courage to cut it off."
"No," said Redding decidedly; "it's all very well to lop off a finger or
a toe with a razor, but I don't think it's allowable for an amateur to
attempt a foot except under circumstances of extreme urgency."
"Well, it don't much matter," continued Bob Smart, drawing vigorously at
the black pipe, "for we'll have an opportunity of sending them up to
Quebec in a week or so, and in the meantime the poor fellows are very
jolly considering their circumstances. That man Ned Wright keeps them
all in good humour. Although, as you know, he has suffered severely in
hands and feet, he feels himself well enough to limp about the room and
act the part, as he says, of `stooard and cook to the ship's company.'
He insisted on beginning last night just after you left, and I found him
hard at it this morning when I went to see them. He must have been the
life of the ship before she went ashore, for he goes about continually
trolling out some verses of his own composing, though he has got no more
idea of tune in him than the main-top-mast back-stay, to which, or
something of the same kind, he makes very frequent reference. Here is a
verse of his latest composition:--"
O-o-o-o-h! it's once I froze the end of my nose,
On the coast of Labrador, sir,
An' I lost my smell, an' my taste as well,
An' my pipe, which made me roar, sir;
But the traders come, an' think wot they done!
They poked an' pinched an' skewered me;
They cut an' snipped, an' they carved an' ripped,
An' they clothed an' fed an' cured me.
Chorus.--Hooroo! it's true
An' a sailor's life for me.
"Not bad, eh?" said Bob.
"Might be worse," answered Redding, with the air of one whose mind is
preoccupied.
"I've often wondered," continued Bob Smart, in a moralising tone, and
looking intently at the wreaths of smoke that curled from his lips as if
for inspiration, "I've often wondered how it is that sailors--especially
British sailors--appear to possess such an enormous fund of
superabundant rollicking humour, insomuch that they will jest and sing
sometimes in the midst of troubles and dangers that would take the
spirit out of ordinary men such as you and me."
"Bob Smart," said Redding earnestly.
"Yes," said Bob.
"D'you know it strikes me that I ought to go down to the wreck to see
how the McLeods are getting on."
"O ah! well, to change the subject, d'you know Mr Redding, that same
idea struck me some days ago, for Jonas Bellew has left them to look
after his own affairs, and the Indians were to go north on the 13th, so
the McLeods must have been living for some time on salt provisions,
unless they have used their guns with better success than has been
reported of them. If you remember, I have mentioned it to you more than
once, but you seemed to avoid the subject."
"Well, perhaps I did, and perhaps I had my reasons for it. However, I
am going down now, immediately after dressing the poor fellows' sores.
Will you therefore be good enough to get the small boat ready, with some
fresh meat, and tell Le Rue and Michel to be prepared to start in an
hour or so."
The day after the above conversation McLeod senior walked down to the
wreck accompanied by Flora. Kenneth had been left in charge of the
invalid, whose system had received such a shock that his recovery was
extremely slow, and it had been deemed advisable not only to avoid, but
to forbid all reference to the wreck. Indeed Roderick himself seemed to
have no desire to speak about it, and although he had roused himself on
the arrival of his relations, he had hitherto lain in such a weak
semi-lethargic state that it was feared his head must have received
severer injury than was at first supposed. On the morning of the day in
question an Indian had arrived with a letter from Mr Gambart of
Partridge Bay, which had not tended to soothe the luckless father.
"It seems very unfortunate," said Flora, in a sympathetic tone.
"_Seems_ unfortunate?" exclaimed McLeod, with some asperity, "it _is_
unfortunate. Why, what could be more so? Just think of it, Flo! Here
am I without a penny of ready cash in the world, and although Gambart
knows this as well as I do myself, he writes me, first, that he has sold
Loch Dhu to that fellow Redding, and now that he has bought Barker's
Mill for me without my sanction!"
"But you gave him leave to sell Loch Dhu," suggested Flora.
"Oh, yes, yes, of course, and I told him to let it go at a low sum, for
I needed cash very much at the beginning of this venture at Jenkins
Creek. But I find that our expenses are so small that I could afford to
hold on for some time on the funds I have. To be sure Gambart could not
know that, but--but--why did the fellow go and buy that mill for me?
It's being a great bargain and a splendid property, just now are no
excuse, for he knew my poverty, and also knew that I shall feel bound in
honour to take it off his hands when I manage to scrape the sum
together, because of course it was done in a friendly way to oblige me.
No doubt he will say that there's no hurry about repayment, and that he
won't take interest, and so forth, but he had no business to buy it at
all!"
Flora made no reply to this, for she saw that her father was waxing
wroth under his misfortunes.
Her silence tended rather to increase his wrath, for he was dissatisfied
with himself more than with others, and would have been glad even of
contradiction, in order that he might relieve his feelings by
disputation.
While this state of mind was strong upon him they reached a turn in the
path that brought the wreck into view, and revealed the fact that a boat
lay on the beach, from which three men had just landed. Two of these
remained by the boat, while the third advanced towards the woods.
Flora's hand tightened on her father's arm.
"Surely that is Mr Redding," she said.
The frown which had clouded McLeod's brow instantly deepened. "Go," he
said, "walk slowly back towards the hut. I will overtake you in a few
minutes."