HARRY BOLTON KIDNAPS REDBURN, AND CARRIES HIM OFF TO LONDON
It might have been a week after our glimpse of Lord Lovely, that Harry,
who had been expecting a letter, which, he told me, might possibly
alter his plans, one afternoon came bounding on board the ship, and
sprang down the hatchway into the _between-decks,_ where, in perfect
solitude, I was engaged picking oakum; at which business the mate had
set me, for want of any thing better.
“Hey for London, Wellingborough!” he cried. “Off tomorrow! first
train—be there the same night—come! I have money to rig you all
out—drop that hangman’s stuff there, and away! Pah! how it smells here!
Come; up you jump!”
I trembled with amazement and delight.
London? it could not be!—and Harry—how kind of him! he was then indeed
what he seemed. But instantly I thought of all the circumstances of the
case, and was eager to know what it was that had induced this sudden
departure.
In reply my friend told me, that he had received a remittance, and had
hopes of recovering a considerable sum, lost in some way that he chose
to conceal.
“But how am I to leave the ship, Harry?” said I; “they will not let me
go, will they? You had better leave me behind, after all; I don’t care
very much about going; and besides, I have no money to share the
expenses.”
This I said, only pretending indifference, for my heart was jumping all
the time.
“Tut! my Yankee bantam,” said Harry; “look here!” and he showed me a
handful of gold.
“But they are _yours,_ and not _mine,_ Harry,” said I.
“Yours _and_ mine, my sweet fellow,” exclaimed Harry. “Come, sink the
ship, and let’s go!”
“But you don’t consider, if I quit the ship, they’ll be sending a
constable after me, won’t they?”
“What! and do you think, then, they value your services so highly? Ha!
ha!-Up, up, Wellingborough: I can’t wait.”
True enough. I well knew that Captain Riga would not trouble himself
much, if I _did_ take French leave of him. So, without further thought
of the matter, I told Harry to wait a few moments, till the ship’s bell
struck four; at which time I used to go to supper, and be free for the
rest of the day.
The bell struck; and off we went. As we hurried across the quay, and
along the dock walls, I asked Harry all about his intentions. He said,
that go to London he must, and to Bury St. Edmunds; but that whether he
should for any time remain at either place, he could not now tell; and
it was by no means impossible, that in less than a week’s time we would
be back again in Liverpool, and ready for sea. But all he said was
enveloped in a mystery that I did not much like; and I hardly know
whether I have repeated correctly what he said at the time.
Arrived at the _Golden Anchor,_ where Harry put up, he at once led me
to his room, and began turning over the contents of his chest, to see
what clothing he might have, that would fit me.
Though he was some years my senior, we were about the same size—if any
thing, I was larger than he; so, with a little stretching, a shirt,
vest, and pantaloons were soon found to suit. As for a coat and hat,
those Harry ran out and bought without delay; returning with a loose,
stylish sack-coat, and a sort of foraging cap, very neat, genteel, and
unpretending.
My friend himself soon doffed his Guernsey frock, and stood before me,
arrayed in a perfectly plain suit, which he had bought on purpose that
very morning. I asked him why he had gone to that unnecessary expense,
when he had plenty of other clothes in his chest. But he only winked,
and looked knowing. This, again, I did not like. But I strove to drown
ugly thoughts.
Till quite dark, we sat talking together; when, locking his chest, and
charging his landlady to look after it well, till he called, or sent
for it; Harry seized my arm, and we sallied into the street.
Pursuing our way through crowds of frolicking sailors and fiddlers, we
turned into a street leading to the Exchange. There, under the shadow
of the colonnade, Harry told me to stop, while he left me, and went to
finish his toilet. Wondering what he meant, I stood to one side; and
presently was joined by a stranger in whiskers and mustache.
“It’s _me”_ said the stranger; and who was _me_ but Harry, who had thus
metamorphosed himself? I asked him the reason; and in a faltering
voice, which I tried to make humorous, expressed a hope that he was not
going to turn gentleman forger.
He laughed, and assured me that it was only a precaution against being
recognized by his own particular friends in London, that he had adopted
this mode of disguising himself.
“And why afraid of your friends?” asked I, in astonishment, “and we are
not in London yet.”
“Pshaw! what a Yankee you are, Wellingborough. Can’t you see very
plainly that I have a plan in my head? And this disguise is only for a
short time, you know. But I’ll tell you all by and by.”
I acquiesced, though not feeling at ease; and we walked on, till we
came to a public house, in the vicinity of the place at which the cars
are taken.
We stopped there that night, and next day were off, whirled along
through boundless landscapes of villages, and meadows, and parks: and
over arching viaducts, and through wonderful tunnels; till, half
delirious with excitement, I found myself dropped down in the evening
among gas-lights, under a great roof in Euston Square.
London at last, and in the West-End!