"Do you know what you are talking about, Tom?" I said.
"Sure I do, Mas'r Harry. Talkin' 'bout going abroad."
"But where?"
"I d'know, Mas'r Harry; only it's along o' you."
"But, my good fellow," I said, "perhaps I'm about to do very wrong in
going."
"Then, p'r'aps I am, Mas'r Harry," he replied, "and that don't matter."
"But it might be the ruin of your prospects, Tom."
"Ruin o' my prospecks!" cried Tom. "Hark at him!" and he seemed to be
addressing a pile of chests. "Don't see as there's much prospeck in
looking down into a taller tub. I could do that anywheres."
"But you don't understand me, Tom," I cried.
"Don't want to, Mas'r Harry," he said. "I know as I'm allers gettin' my
face slapped when I go into the kitchen; that I always get the smell o'
the tallow in my nose and can't get it out; and that I hate soap to such
an extent that I wouldn't care if I never touched a bit again."
"Oh, but you'll get on here, Tom, in time, and perhaps rise to be
foreman."
"No, I sha'n't, Mas'r Harry, 'cause I'm coming along with you."
"But don't you see that I am going to a place where it would not be
suitable for you."
"What's sootable for you, Mas'r Harry, would be just as sootable for me,
and I'd work like one of the niggers out there, only harder."
"Niggers out where, Tom?"
"Where we're going, Mas'r Harry."
"How do you know there are any niggers where we are going, sir?"
"Oh, there's sure to be, Mas'r Harry. There's niggers everywheres, I've
heerd tell."
"Oh, but really, Tom," I said, "it is all nonsense. Look here, I'm
going out to join my uncle in South America."
"South America, Mas'r Harry!" said Tom eagerly. "Why, that's just the
very place I want to go to."
"I don't believe it, Tom," I said sharply. "If I had told you I was
going to South Australia, you would have said just the same."
"Dessay I should, Mas'r Harry," he replied grinning.
"Well now, look here, Tom," I continued very seriously, "I am going out
to join my uncle, and if I get on, and can see that there is a good
chance for you out there, why, I'll send you word, and you can join me."
"No, you won't, Mas'r Harry," he said quietly.
"But I promise you that I will."
"No, you won't, Mas'r Harry."
"Don't you believe my word, Tom?"
"I believe that you believe you mean me to believe, Mas'r Harry," he
said; "but I don't mean you to go without me, and so I tell you. There
wouldn't be no getting on without me alongside o' you, that there
wouldn't, and I'm going along with you."
"What are you two quarrelling about?" said my father, coming up just
then.
"We were not quarrelling, father," I replied, snatching at the
opportunity to lay bare my plans now that I was a little excited, for I
had been rather nervous about how my proposals would be taken.
"Mas'r Harry's going out foreign abroad," said Tom sturdily; "and he
said I warn't to go with him, and I said I would, sir--that's all."
"Oh, he's going abroad, is he?" said my father.
"Yes, sir," I replied, "I have made up mind to go and see if Uncle
Reuben can find me anything to do."
"I hope you don't think that you are going to lead a life of idleness
out there, sir?"
"Oh no, sir," I replied, "I mean to work."
"Then why don't you work here?" said my father.
"Because I hate the trade so, sir."
"Nice clean business too," said my father; "makes clean money, and
keeps people clean. I suppose you know it's horribly hot out there?"
"Not so hot as in our boiling-house, sir," I replied.
"Humph!" said my father; and then, without another word, he walked back
into the house.
"I _am_ glad," cried Tom, rubbing his hands together softly. "What a
time of it we shall have, Mas'r Harry!"
It was my turn now to be silent, and I stood watching Tom, and thinking
as I struggled with myself that it would, after all, be very pleasant to
have a sturdy trustworthy fellow like Tom always at my back when I was
in a strange land. For I had read that the descendants of the old
Spaniards in South America were courtly noble-looking gentlemen enough,
but were bitter and revengeful, and not always disposed to look with
favour upon Englishmen. How did I know but in my fortune-seeking
adventures--for truly enough I meant to go out to seek my fortune--I
might make enemies, and be sometime or another in danger. Then how good
it would be to have such a henchman as Tom at my side.
My thoughts were very visionary, of course, for I could not foresee the
strange adventures through which I should have to go; and for the moment
I was about to turn sharp round on Tom, and shake hands and say, "That's
right, Tom, we will go out and carve our fortunes together." But I
checked myself directly, as I thought of my position.
For how was I to take out with me what to all intents and purposes would
be a servant, when the probabilities were that I should hardly have the
money to pay my own passage to the far-off land?
I was interrupted in my thoughts by Tom, who turned to me and said,
"Give me your knife, Mas'r Harry, and I'll give it a good sharp up along
o' mine. There's nothing like having a good keen knife in your pocket
when you're going travelling, so they say."
"Very true, Tom," I cried laughing; "are you really in earnest over
this?"
"Really in earnest, Mas'r Harry? Why, I never felt so earnest before in
my life. To be sure I am, I want to see a bit o' the world."
"Very well then, Tom," I replied; "you will have a hard lot to share
with me, but share it you shall if you like."
"I don't want to share or anything of the kind," said Tom gruffly.
"You're young master, and I'm only lad. I know what I am and what I'm
fit for well enough, Mas'r Harry, so don't you get talking no more about
sharing danger, because it won't do."
"Oh, very well, Tom, we won't quarrel about that."
"That's right then, Mas'r Harry; so now give us hold of your knife."
I gave him my knife, in a thoughtful way, and he took it, opened it, and
examined its edge.
"Blunt as a butter knife, Mas'r Harry," he cried. "And now, when do we
start?"
"Start, Tom?" I cried laughing. "Oh, it is not like going to London,
we must make a great many preparations first, for it's a long journey."
"Is it?" he said. "Two or three hundred miles, Mas'r Harry?"
"A good deal more than two or three thousand, Tom," I replied.
"Oh, all right, Mas'r Harry. I don't mind how far it is, as long as we
keep together. My word an' honour, won't it be different to making best
yaller and mottled and cutting it into bars?"
"Different, Tom?" I said dreamily. "Yes, my lad, it will indeed."