Johnny Ludlow Fourth Series Part 47

Betty produced a card from her innermost pocket, and showed it to Mr.

Pym: who carefully copied down the address.

That he was on his way to Timberdale Rectory, was _not_ a ruse. He went on there through the Ravine at the top of his speed, and asked for Captain Tanerton.

"Have got orders to join ship, sir, and am going up this morning. Any commands?"

"To join what ship?" questioned Jack.

"The _Rose of Delhi_. She is beginning to load."

Jack paused. "Of course you must go up, as you are sent for. But I don't think you will go out in the _Rose of Delhi_, Mr. Pym. I should recommend you to look out for another ship."

"Time enough for that, Captain Tanerton, when I get my discharge from the _Rose of Delhi_: I have not got it yet," returned Pym, who seemed to take a private delight in thwarting his captain.

"Well, I shall be in London myself shortly, and will see about things,"

spoke Jack.

"Any commands, sir?"

"Not at present."

Taking his leave of Colonel and Mrs. Letsom, and thanking them for their hospitality, Edward Pym departed for London by an afternoon train. He left his promises and vows to the young Letsoms, boys and girls, to come down again at the close of the next voyage, little dreaming, poor ill-fated young man, that he would never go upon another. Captain Tanerton wrote at once to head-quarters in Liverpool, saying he did not wish to retain Pym as chief mate, and would like another one to be appointed. Strolling back to Timberdale Rectory from posting the letter at Salmon's, John Tanerton fell into a brown study.

A curious feeling, against taking Pym out again, lay within him; like an instinct, it seemed; a prevision of warning. Jack was fully conscious of it, though he knew not why it should be there. It was a great deal stronger than could have been prompted by his disapprobation of the man's carelessness in his duties on board.

"I'll go up to London to-morrow," he decided. "Best to do so. Pym means to sail in the _Rose of Delhi_ if he can; just, I expect, because he sees I don't wish him to: the man's nature is as contrary as two sticks.

I'll not have him again at any price. Yes, I must go up to-morrow."

"L'homme propose"--we know the proverb. Very much to Jack's surprise, his wife arrived that evening at the Rectory from Liverpool, with her eldest child, Polly. Therefore, Jack did not start for London on the morrow; it would not have been at all polite.

He went up the following week. His first visit was to Eastcheap, in which bustling quarter stood the office of Mr. James Freeman, the ship's broker. After talking a bit about the ship and her cargo, Jack spoke of Pym.

"Has a first officer been appointed in Pym's place?"

"No," said Mr. Freeman. "Pym goes out with you again."

"I told you I did not wish to take Pym again," cried Jack.

"You said something about it, I know, and we thought of putting in the mate from the _Star of Lah.o.r.e_; but he wants to keep to his own vessel."

"I won't take Pym."

"But why, Captain Tanerton?"

"We don't get on together. I never had an officer who gave me so much provocation--the Americans would say, who _riled_ me so. I believe the man dislikes me, and for that reason was insubordinate. He may do better in another ship. I am a strict disciplinarian on board."

"Well," carelessly observed the broker, "you will have to make the best of him this voyage, Captain Tanerton. It is decided that he sails with you again."

"Then, don't be surprised if there's murder committed," was Jack's impetuous answer.

And Mr. Freeman stared: and noted the words.

The mid-day sun was shining hotly upon the London pavement, and especially upon the glittering gold band adorning the cap of a lithe, handsome young sailor, who had just got out of a cab, and was striding along as though he wanted to run a race with the clocks. It was Edward Pym: and the reader will please take notice that we have gone back a few days, for this was the day following Pym's arrival in London.

"Halt a step," cried he to himself, his eye catching the name written up at a street corner. "I must be out of my bearings."

Taking from his pocket a piece of paper, he read some words written there. It was no other than the address he had got from Bessy Huntsman the previous day.

"Woburn Place, Russell Square," repeated he. "This is not it. I'll be shot if I know where I am! Can you tell me my way to Woburn Place?"

asked he, of a gentleman who was pa.s.sing.

"Turn to the left; you will soon come to it."

"Thank you," said Pym.

The right house sighted at last, Mr. Pym took his standing in a friendly door-way on the other side of the road, and put himself on the watch.

Very much after the fashion of a bailiff's man, who wants to serve a writ.

He glanced up at the windows; he looked down at the doors; he listened to the sound of a church clock striking; he sc.r.a.ped his feet in impatience, now one foot, now the other. Nothing came of it. The rooms behind the curtained windows might be untenanted for all the sign given out to the eager eyes of Mr. Pym.

"Hang it all!" he cried, in an explosion of impatience: and he could have sent the silent dwelling to Jericho.

No man of business likes his time to be wasted: and Mr. Pym could very especially not afford to waste his to-day. For he was supposed to be at St. Katherine's Docks, checking cargo on board the _Rose of Delhi_. When twelve o'clock struck, the dinner hour, he had made a rush from the ship, telling the foreman of the shed not to ship any more cargo till he came back in half-an-hour, and had come dashing up here in a fleet cab.

The half-hour had expired, and another half-hour to it, and it was a great deal more than time to dash back again. If anybody from the office chanced to go down to the ship, what a row there'd be!--and he would probably get his discharge.

He had not been lucky in his journey from Worcestershire the previous day. The train was detained so on the line, through some heavy waggons having come to grief, that he did not reach London till late at night; too late to go down to his lodgings near the docks; so he slept at an hotel. This morning he had reported himself at the broker's office; and Mr. Freeman, after blowing him up for his delay, ordered him on board at once: since they began to load, two days ago now, a clerk from the office had been down on the ship, making up the cargo-books in Pym's place.

"I'll be hanged if I don't believe they must all be dead!" cried Pym, gazing at the house. "Why does not somebody show himself? I can't post the letter--for I know my letters to her are being suppressed. And I dare not leave it at the door myself, lest that cantankerous Ozias should answer me, and hand it to old Dace, instead of to Vera."

Luck at last! The door opened, and a maid-servant came out with a jug, her bonnet thrown on perpendicularly. Mr. Pym kept her in view, and caught her up as she was nearing a public-house.

"You come from Mrs. Ball's, Woburn Place?" said he.

"Yes, sir," answered the girl, doubtfully, rather taken aback at the summary address, but capitulating to the gold-lace band.

"I want you to give this letter privately to Miss Verena Fontaine. When she is quite alone, you understand. And here's half-a-crown, my pretty la.s.s, for your trouble."

The girl touched neither letter nor money. She surrept.i.tiously put her bonnet straight, in her gratified vanity.

"But I can't give it, sir," she said. "Though I'm sure I'd be happy to oblige you if I could. The Miss Fontaines and their papa is not with us now; they've gone away."

"What?" cried Pym, setting his teeth angrily, an expression crossing his face that marred all its good looks. "When did they leave? Where are they gone to?"

"They left yesterday, sir, and they didn't say where. That black servant of theirs and our cook couldn't agree; there was squabbles perpetual.

None of us liked him; it don't seem Christian-like to have a black man sitting down to table with you. Mrs. Ball, our missis, she took our part; and the young ladies and their papa they naturally took _his_ part: and so, they left."