SQUIRE TURNER’S LETTER.
The affair of the caricature was suffered to pass without the punishment
of the guilty party. Had not Harry found some one to clear him of the
charge, he would have fared badly from the captain’s brutality, increased
by his unfounded dislike. But in Jack Rodman the offence was passed
over. Probably the captain suspected that the caricature had been drawn
with the object of getting our hero into trouble, and that no insult was
intended to himself.
It became evident to all on board that Harry was an object of dislike to
the captain. Brandon never spoke to him except in a rough voice and with
lowering looks, and would gladly have shown his dislike actively, but for
the restraining presence of Mr. Weldon, the supercargo, whose interest in
our hero daily grew stronger.
As for Harry, he did his duty faithfully, as he had determined. His
position was not to his liking, and he meant to escape from it whenever
an opportunity offered; but, until that time came, he thought it best
to give the captain no cause of complaint. He often wondered whether
Captain Brandon had invited him on board with the intention of carrying
him off to sea. On this point he could not satisfy himself; for, though
it certainly looked like it, he could conceive of no motive which Brandon
could have for so acting. He was, as he supposed, a total stranger to him
until the day before the vessel sailed. He concluded, therefore, that
his detention was only accidental, but that the captain did not feel
sufficient interest in him to send him on shore in time.
But a short time afterwards he made a discovery which threw a new and
perplexing light upon his abduction. He was sent down into the cabin
one day on an errand. While there, he saw an open letter lying upon the
floor. Picking it up, with the intention of placing it on the table,
he happened to see his own name about the middle of the page. In his
surprise he let his eye travel over the remainder of the letter. A light
flashed upon him as he read, and, commencing at the beginning, he made
himself acquainted with the whole letter. Then, because he did not dare
to stay longer, he hurriedly thrust it into his pocket and went on deck.
That we may understand how far Harry was enlightened by its perusal, the
letter is subjoined:—
“HARTLEY BRANDON:—Your letter, detailing the steps which you
have already taken, in order to carry out the plan which I
mentioned to you, is received. I approve of all you have done.
The most difficult part of the programme,—getting the boy to
the city—you have ingeniously provided for. The offer of a
place in the city, with a salary of twelve dollars a week,
will, undoubtedly, be very tempting to an ambitious boy like
Harry Raymond. Now he is employed temporarily in the village
store at six dollars a week, and that situation he must soon
resign. He will, undoubtedly, swallow the bait, and when you
have once got him to the city, you can easily devise means for
getting him on board your vessel By the way, I congratulate you
on your unexpected accession to the post of captain. It will
pay you better, and of course be more agreeable than that of
mate. Besides, it will give you full power over young Raymond.
If he should show signs of insubordination, which is quite
possible, for he is a high-spirited boy, have no mercy upon
him. Let him feel your authority. Your voyage is fortunately a
long one, and by the time you return he will probably be well
tamed; if not, it will be your fault.
“I do not know that I have anything more to add, except that of
course you are never to mention my name to Raymond, or lead him
in any way to suspect that there is any acquaintance between
us. On this point I am very particular, and should I discover
that you have broken your word, I should disown all knowledge
of the transaction, and withhold the reward I promised. I
enclose twenty-five dollars, which you say you have promised to
your confederate, Lemuel Fairchild.”
This was the whole of the letter. It was not signed, from motives of
prudence, no doubt, for otherwise Squire Turner would have placed
himself in the power of Brandon. But Harry was not for a moment in
doubt as to the name of the writer. He was familiar with the squire’s
handwriting, if there had not been internal evidence to show that it was
written by him.
But the discovery was far from clearing up the mystery. Why should Squire
Turner enter into a plot to kidnap him? Was it because Harry had been
a witness of the fire, and by his testimony could prevent the squire
from receiving his insurance money? This was possible. At any rate Harry
could think of nothing else. Had he understood the further motives which
prompted Squire Turner’s action, he would have felt still more anxious
than at present. Now he felt an eager wish to be at home, and confront
the squire with the evidence he had obtained, as well as to prevent his
obtaining money from the insurance company on false pretences, as he felt
persuaded that he intended to do.
Our hero resolved to keep the letter he had accidentally discovered. It
was not his, but its connection with him justified him, he thought, in
retaining it. As he might be suspected of having it, he hid it away, not
wishing to have it found upon him in the event of a search. But Captain
Brandon did not appear to miss it. At any rate, he made no inquiry after
it, and very probably supposed that it was still in his possession.
Harry deliberated whether he should impart to any one the information he
had obtained. Tom Patch was an honest fellow and a good friend, but he
was an illiterate sailor, and, though he could give sympathy, his advice
would be of little service. Mr. Weldon, on the other hand, had not only
shown himself a friend, but he was a gentleman of education and judgment.
Harry felt that he would be a safe counsellor. Accordingly, one day when
a good opportunity offered, he related to the supercargo the discovery he
had made, with enough of his home life to make the account intelligible.
The young man listened in surprise.
“This is a strange story, Harry,” he said.
“Yes, sir, it is strange,” said our hero. “I could not have believed that
Squire Turner would have treated me so meanly.”
“Your having seen him set fire to his house makes it less strange. He
could not draw the insurance money if you chose to interfere.”
“I should have interfered,” said Harry, promptly.
“You would have been right in doing so. It appears, then, that he was
interested to the amount of two thousand dollars in getting you out of
the way.”
“Yes, sir,” said our hero; “but there is one thing I can’t understand.”
“What is it?”
“He must have known that I would come back from the voyage, and that I
should learn whether he had drawn the money. It would not be too late
then to expose him.”
“That is true,” said the young man, thoughtfully.
“Perhaps,” he said, after a little thought, fixing his eyes seriously
upon Harry, “he does not expect you to come back at all.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Weldon?”
“I mean this; he has already shown himself capable of one crime—he may be
capable of another. Evidently he has some secret understanding with the
captain, and he may have given him secret instructions, of which we are
not aware.”
“You don’t think he would take my life?” said Harry, his brown cheek
turning a little pale at the thought.
“I hope not. He might, however, leave you by design on some lonely island
in the sea. At any rate, it will be necessary to be on your guard. I am
very glad you have told me what you have found out. I will also be on the
lookout, and if I find any danger menacing you I will let you know.”
“Thank you, Mr. Weldon,” said Harry, gratefully; “I am very glad to have
so good a friend.”
“You may depend on my friendship with confidence,” said the supercargo,
taking the boy’s hand kindly. “I feel an interest in you, and no harm
shall come to you if I can help it.”
The suggestion of Mr. Weldon that possibly Squire Turner did not expect
him to return was a startling one to our hero. He had lamented his
necessary absence for a year or more from home, and oftentimes pictured
to himself with pain the grief of his mother when she learned of his
mysterious disappearance. He was afraid that she would suffer from narrow
means while he was away. Still he knew that she could raise money on the
house by a further mortgage, enough probably to carry her through two
years, even if she did not earn anything during this period. It would be
a great pity to have her little property so sacrificed; but Harry was
hopeful, and meant when he returned to make up to her for her losses. He
would be home in eighteen months, as he judged from inquiries made of
the sailors; at any rate in less than two years, and this thought had
sustained him in his temporary separation. But now for the first time the
thought came to him that he might be prevented from returning at all.
Suppose it should prove true, as the supercargo suggested, that Captain
Brandon should leave him on some lonely island in the ocean, there to
starve, or to drag out a solitary and wretched existence, perhaps for
years? This was terrible to think of, yet he had heard and read of such
cases. He resolved not to be persuaded to land anywhere, except at the
termination of the voyage, and thus avoid danger.
But, as often happens, the danger assumed a different shape from what he
anticipated. To explain the evil which befell him, it is necessary to say
that Jack Rodman had not forgiven our hero for the signal and public
manner in which he had defeated him in the contest already recorded. He
cherished a malignant hatred against Harry, and longed to do him some
harm. He was bound to get even with him, so he said to himself. It was
some time before an opportunity presented itself. But at length one came.
Harry was leaning over the side one evening, thinking over his position,
when Jack Rodman’s attention was drawn to him. He looked around him
hurriedly. Nobody was looking. A terrible impulse seized him. He crept
stealthily behind Harry, lifted him from his feet, and in an instant
threw him into the sea.
“Help!” exclaimed Harry, in loud, clear tones.
Tom Patch heard, and recognized the voice. Instantly he threw a plank
overboard, calling out:—
“Keep up, my lad, and we’ll help you.”
The captain was just coming out of the cabin. Tom ran up to him, and
hurriedly announced that Harry had fallen overboard.
“If he’s careless enough to fall overboard, let him take care of
himself,” said the captain, coolly.
“Won’t you put out a boat?” asked Tom, anxiously.
The only answer was an oath, and a savage command to go about his
business.
All the while valuable time was being lost. Harry was by this time some
distance astern. He had succeeded in reaching the plank, and was clinging
to it.
“Poor lad!” said Tom Patch, brushing a tear from his eyes with his large
and horny hand, and he breathed an anathema against the captain, which I
cannot record. “He’s bound for Davy Jones’s locker, as sure as my name’s
Tom.”
There seemed little chance for our hero. With nothing but a plank between
him and immediate destruction, alone in the vast ocean, without a
particle of food or drink to sustain him, the question of “sink or swim”
seemed little in doubt.