To The West Part 26

"I would if I could think as you do," I said; "but I'm sure he would not forsake me."

"Human nature, boy."

"It isn't his human nature," I said boldly. "If he had wanted to back out he would have confided in me, and wanted me to go with him till you had sailed."

"I have no time to argue," said Gunson sternly. "What are you going to do?"

"I must try and find my companion."

"But your chests?--they will be taken on to Esquimalt."

"We should have to go up and claim them afterwards."

"You believe, then, that he is staunch?"

"I am sure of it, sir."

"Well, then, good-bye, my lad. I'll speak to the captain about your chests, and have them left with the agents of the ship, but you will have to give up your pa.s.sage-money. There will be no getting that back."

"I'm afraid not," I said gloomily.

"Yes, they may sail at any time," said Gunson, impatiently. "Better go with me, boy."

"No," I said.

"You are giving up your pa.s.sage and your chances for the sake of a fellow not worth his salt."

"You don't know him as I do," I replied. "I will not believe it of him."

"Well, if he is not staunch you are, at all events, my lad. Good-bye.

If he does come back run down to the wharf at once, the schooner may not have sailed."

"He has got into some trouble, I'm sure," I cried.

"Good-bye."

"Good-bye," I said, holding out my hand; but my lips quivered, for I was horribly disappointed.

"Once more," cried Mr Gunson, as he gripped my hand hard, "I tell you he is playing you false. You had better come."

"No."

"You are not afraid, are you?"

I flung his hand away.

"No," he said, smiling, "not a bit. There, Mayne, my lad, he has thrown you over, but I can't. If you stay, I'll stay too."

"Mr Gunson!" I cried.

"Yes, my lad, and we'll see if he comes back."

"He will if he can, I'm sure," I cried. "Well, we shall see."

"I am sure he has got into some trouble; I am certain of it. Ah, here he is!"

For the door opened at that moment, but it was not Esau, only the landlady, who in broken German-English, told us that a message had arrived from the captain to say we were to go on board.

"Thank you. _Gut_!" said Gunson, laconically. And then, as the woman left the room, he continued, "Well, I'll take your view of it, my lad.

We'll say he has got into some trouble and cannot get back."

"Yes; I'm sure of it," I cried. "Very well, then, we must get him out of it. Of course it is no use for us to waste time by going from house to house. I'll go and see the chief man in the police, and see if they can find him for us."

"Yes," I said, eagerly; "come on."

"No, no, you stay. He may, as you say, return, and you must be here to meet him, or he may go off again, and matters be worse."

"He'd go to the schooner then."

"If the schooner had not sailed. You stop, and I hope he will turn up hero."

Anxious as I was to go in search of Esau, I was obliged to obey, and I was directly after left to myself to pa.s.s quite a couple of hours before Gunson came back.

"No news yet," he said; "the police are trying what they can do, but if he is in hiding they are not likely to succeed."

"Then he is not in prison?"

"Oh, no; as far as I can hear, nothing has been seen of him."

"I thought he might have got in some trouble, and been arrested. Then those men must be at the bottom of it, Mr Gunson."

"Yes, I thought so, but what could I do? I told one of the chiefs of the police that I was afraid he had been attacked, and the man looked serious, and said 'Very likely.' Then he asked me to describe the men, and I did."

"Well?" I said eagerly.

"He told me that my description was like that of hundreds of scoundrels about the place."

"Let's go and see if we can meet them anywhere about," I said. "They were watching our hotel yesterday where we stayed."

"Yes, I know," said Gunson, thoughtfully. "It hardly seems likely. I don't know, though, there are always men hanging about ports ready to do anything for the sake of a few shillings, all the world over."

I felt a shiver run through me at his words, as my busy brain began to suggest endless horrors that might have befallen poor Esau; and as I followed Gunson out into the road, these thoughts grew and grew till I found myself telling poor little Mrs Dean about the loss of her son, and hearing her reproaches as she told me that it was all my fault, and that if it had not been for me Esau would have stayed at home.

We went along the road, and down to the wharves, and to and fro about the hotel where we had been staying, and there was no sign of either of the men who had a.s.sailed us. There were, as the police had said, plenty of a similar cla.s.s, many of whom resembled them somewhat in appearance; but our search was entirely in vain, while towards evening, as we came out once more where we had a full view of the beautiful bay, I saw something which made me start, and, full of misery and self-reproach, I stopped and looked up at Gunson.

"Yes," he said, frowning heavily, "I see. There she goes, and with a good wind too. Nice clean-sailing little vessel. We ought to have been on board."

For there, a mile now from the sh.o.r.e, with her sails set, and looking half-transparent in the light of the setting sun, was the graceful-looking schooner, which I felt must be ours, heeling over gently, and taking with her our few belongings.