The White Squall Part 6

Dad said that the _Josephine_ would complete loading her cargo at Grenville Bay in about a week or ten days. She would then call round at Saint George's for orders, and I should have to go on board at a moment's notice, as she might sail almost immediately.

The next few days were all hurry and bustle, everybody being busy in preparing my traps--my mother and sisters seeing to my outfit, and the negro servants, with all of whom I was a great favourite, contributing all sorts of little presents, some of the most unwieldy and useless character, which they thought would either add to my comfort during the voyage or were absolutely necessary for "de young ma.s.sa agwine to England!"

But, at last, all my belongings, useful and useless alike, were packed up; and one fine morning in August--I remember well, it was the day after my birthday--a regular procession set out from Mount Pleasant, consisting of my mother and dad and my sisters, not omitting myself, the hero of the occasion.

We were all mounted on horseback; for no wheeled vehicle could overcome the engineering difficulties of the mountain road, rugged as it was and intersected by wild gullies and little brawling streamlets at intervals, the latter sometimes only bridged by a narrow plank, as I have mentioned before.

To a stranger, our cavalcade would have presented quite an imposing appearance, as behind the mounted portion of the procession came a string of negroes, headed by old Pompey, carrying the three large trunks and odd boxes containing my paraphernalia, those whose services were not absolutely required to carry anything volunteering to go with the rest in order to see me off.

I had been so excited all along with the idea of going to school, which I was looking forward to as something awfully jolly from the description I had read about other boys' doings in books--for I was utterly ignorant of what English life really was--that up to now I had scarcely given a thought to anything else, never realising the terrible severance of all the dear home ties which my departure would bring about.

But, when I mounted Prince for the last time, as I suddenly recollected all at once, and gazed round at my old home, which I was probably about to bid good-bye to for ever, my feelings overcame me. At that moment I would gladly have stopped behind, sacrificing even the pleasure I antic.i.p.ated from my voyage in the _Josephine_, and all that the future might have in store for me, rather than desert so summarily the scenes of my childhood and all the loved members of the home circle.

Dad noticed my emotion and he recalled me to myself.

"Come on, Tom," he said kindly but firmly, "you must be a man now, my boy! Be brave; for if your poor mother sees you crying she will break down utterly, and I'm sure you would not like that."

This speech of his made me stifle my sobs; and, although I couldn't get out any words to answer him, I swallowed something hard that was sticking in my throat. Then, putting Prince in a canter, I rode up to the side of my mother, who was in front with Baby Tot.

By that time I had regained my composure and was able to talk and make fun with my little sister, who, not knowing, of course, the purport of our expedition, thought it was a party of pleasure got up especially for her gratification. She was in a state of supreme delight, crowing and chuckling away in the greatest possible glee, every now and then putting up her little rosebud of a mouth to be kissed by mother and me.

Jake, I observed, looked very serious as he ran along by the side of Prince, resting one of his hands on my pony's flanks, as was his habit when he accompanied me out riding. The other negroes, who were carrying my luggage down to town on their heads, in their customary fashion of bearing all burdens whether light or heavy, were laughing and jabbering together like a parcel of black crows; but he never spoke a word either to his dark-complexioned brethren or to me, exhibiting such a striking contrast to his ordinary demeanour that even dad noticed it and asked him the reason, wondering what was the matter with him.

"Me not berry well, ma.s.sa," however, was all the answer he could get out of Jake; but the faithful fellow looked at me so wistfully whenever I caught his eye that I recalled what he had said about wishing to go in the ship with me, on the night when we returned from Grenville Bay.

He had not alluded to the subject since, though, so I really thought he had forgotten it; and now, as he did not appear inclined to talk, I believed it best to let him alone, not wishing to hurt his feelings by dwelling on the impossible.

I could see that he was much put out about something; so I came to the conclusion that his change of manner, so unlike his usual light-hearted merry self, was due to his grief at parting with me, he having been my constant companion ever since I had been able to toddle about, when my father first settled down on the plantation, at which time I was only a little five-year-old boy and he a darkey stripling.

There was no racing down the road now at breakneck speed, like that time when in my hurry to meet dad I had come to grief some two months previously. Our cavalcade went on at a sober respectable pace, reaching the town in about an hour and a half from our start.

As we were pa.s.sing by the bend in the road, opposite Government House, whence there was such a good view of the harbour below, Jake spoke to me for the first time during the journey.

"Dar am de ship, Ma.s.s' Tom!" he said, pointing out the _Josephine_ lying out in the anchorage under Fort Saint George.

She was looking much smarter and trimmer, I thought, than when I had first cast eyes on her in Grenville Bay; for her sails were partly loosed, making her have the appearance of an ocean bird ready to be on the wing. I noticed, too, that she floated lower in the water, having evidently taken in a lot more cargo since I had been on board.

When we reached the lower part of the town by the harbour side, after descending the perilously steep Const.i.tution Hill, dad escorted us all to a famed establishment close by, known as "Jenny Gussett's Hotel," and kept by a gigantic coloured woman nearly seven feet high, where all the pa.s.sengers by the mail steamers who had no friends in the island, used invariably to put up. Here, after ordering an early dinner, dad took me out with him to call on a shipping agent at whose place of business he had agreed to meet Captain Miles, leaving my mother and sisters with their crowd of darky attendants at the hotel until we should come back.

The captain was punctual to his appointment like most sailors.

"Ha, Eastman," he said when dad and I entered the agent's store, "you're just in the nick of time. I was only speaking of you a minute ago to our friend here. Got the youngster I see."

"Yes, here he is," replied dad.

"That's all right then," said Captain Miles. "How are you, Master Tom-- glad to go to sea, eh?"

"Well--" I stammered hesitatingly, not liking to tell an untruth.

"Oh, I know," said he interrupting me. "Sorry to leave mother and the girls, I suppose? Never mind, my boy, these partings must come some time or other, and the sooner they are over the better. I shall start, Eastman," he added, turning to dad, "late in the afternoon, as soon as the wind sets off the land; so, you'd better send the boy aboard when the sun begins to sink. My boat is now waiting at the end of the wharf to take his traps."

"Thanks, Miles," replied my father; "but, won't you come round with us to Jenny Gussett's Hotel and have some lunch? My wife will be glad to see you."

"Oh, has she come in to town to see the youngster off?" asked the captain.

"Yes, we all rode in," answered dad. "The whole kit of us are here."

"All right; I'll come then, as soon as I've finished arranging matters and signing bills of lading with my agent here," said Captain Miles cordially, adding, with one of his knowing winks to dad, "I've no doubt your missis wants to give me all sorts of directions about young Master Hopeful, eh?"

"You might be further out in your guess," rejoined dad with a laugh; and presently the three of us went back to the hotel together, it being near the hour at which dad had ordered our early dinner, or luncheon, to be got ready.

The time soon slipped by at our meal, which none of us seemed to enjoy very much save the captain, who, of course, was not affected by any sad thoughts of parting, the same as dad and mother and I and my sisters were--that is excepting Baby Tot, for she looked still upon the whole thing as a joke and continued in the best of spirits.

When we rose from table, mother got hold of Captain Miles and began whispering earnestly to him, something about me, I was certain; so, in order not to overhear their conversation, I went towards the open door leading into a wide pa.s.sage-way that terminated in the usual verandah common to all West Indian houses. The hotel, however, did not command such a pretty prospect as ours at Mount Pleasant, for it looked on to the street, which could be gained by descending a short flight of steps at the end of the alcove.

But, would you believe it, hardly had I reached the verandah, when, there on the top step I saw old Pompey standing in an att.i.tude of great expectancy, with his footless wine-gla.s.s in hand, the same as was his habit at home on the plantation, although it was more than two hours past his usual grog-time!

No sooner had I appeared than out came his stereotyped formula:

"Hi, Ma.s.s' Tom! um come rum."

I felt sad enough at the moment, but the sight of Pompey with his wine- gla.s.s, and his quaint well-known way of expressing himself, made me burst into a fit of laughter which brought out dad from the dining-room.

"Hullo, Tom, what's the matter?" he cried. "Ah, I see! Why, Pompey, you old rascal, you're past your time," he added, catching sight of the old negro at the end of the verandah. "What do you mean by coming for your grog at four bells, eh? I suppose, though, as Master Tom's going away we must let you have it."

So saying, dad went back into the dining-room, bringing out presently a tumbler filled with something which he handed to Pompey, the old darkey swallowing the contents with his usual gusto, and, needless to say, without any very great amount of exertion.

"There," said dad when Pompey returned the empty gla.s.s with a bow and sc.r.a.pe, "go and tell the others that Master Tom wants to say good-bye, as he will start in a minute or two, and that he wishes them to come round and drink his health too."

Pompey thereupon shuffled off awkwardly in his boots, returning soon with two of the other negroes who had come down with us from the plantation. These now had each a gla.s.s of wine in honour of my departure, Pompey managing to come in for an extra one on the sly by the artful way in which he looked at me and showed his footless measure.

"But where is Jake?" asked dad suddenly, after the darkeys had emptied their gla.s.ses.

"Me no see him," replied Pompey, acting as spokesman for the rest.

Indeed, on this occasion he seemed to abandon his customary taciturnity, for he wished me "um berry fine v'y'ge, Ma.s.s' Tom," when drinking my health.

"Not seen him!" repeated dad, much surprised. "Where can he be?"

"Dunno, ma.s.sa. He put him Dandy an' Prince in 'table an' den him say um feel berry bad, an' go way."

"Poor fellow, he may be really ill! I must look after him," said my father putting on his hat and proceeding round to the stables; but as he could see nothing of Jake he soon returned, for the afternoon was getting on and it was time to have my luggage carried down to the boat of the _Josephine_ as well as for me to see about going on board also.

While my trunks were being taken to the wharf by Pompey and the other two darkeys, I had to pa.s.s through the painful ordeal of bidding farewell to my mother and sisters. The less I say about this the better!

Baby Tot could not grasp the idea that I was really going away from her until the very last moment, when, seeing the others overcome with emotion, especially my mother, who was crying as if her heart would break, my little sister clung round my neck so tightly that dad had to unclasp her tiny fingers one by one before she would release her hold of me.

As for my mother's last kiss and her broken words, telling me always to fear G.o.d and be good, whatever might betide, I can never forget them.