To The West Part 27

"Pretty good waste of time as well as money, Gordon, my lad," said my strange-looking companion, harshly. "But there, it is of no use to cry over spilt milk. You could not go off and leave your mate in this way, and I, as an Englishman, could not leave a fellow-countryman--I mean boy--in trouble."

I tried to thank him, but suitable words would not come, and he clapped me on the shoulder in a friendly way.

"There," he said, "come back to our friend the Frau. You are faint and hungry, and so am I. She shall give us a good square meal, as they call it out here, and then we shall be rested, and better able to think."

I was faint, certainly, but the idea of eating anything seemed to make me feel heart-sick; but I said nothing, only followed my companion back to the little hotel, feeling as if this was after all only some bad, confused dream.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

WHERE ESAU HAD BEEN.

"We are forgetting one thing," said Gunson, as we drew near our resting-place; and I believe now he said it to try and cheer me on.

"Perhaps while we have been away the truant may have returned."

His words had the required effect, for I hurried on by Gunson's side, and was the first to enter and ask the landlady if Esau had been back.

"Nein! nein! nein!" she cried. "Bood der Herr captain send doo dimes for you bode, and say he go doo sea mit dout you, and die schip ist gone. Ya."

"Yes, gone," said Gunson; "and we have come back. Give us some tea and dinner together."

"_Zo_," cried the landlady. "Ach you are sehr hungrig."

She hurried away nodding her head, and we heard her shrill voice giving orders directly, while Gunson began to try and cheer me up.

"It's very kind of you," I said; "but what shall we do?"

"Wait patiently, my lad. There, don't mind about me, perhaps it's all for the best; the schooner may get into a bad storm, and we shall be better ash.o.r.e, perhaps save our lives, who knows. There, lie down on that bench, and try and have a nap."

But I couldn't close my eyes for thinking of poor Esau. Perhaps he was dead; perhaps even then he was shut up somewhere by a gang of scoundrels who might be meaning to keep him till they could secure a ransom.

Ah, what a host of thoughts of that kind came rushing through my weary head, which now began to ache terribly.

In due time the landlady came in, bringing us our meal; and, signing me to take my place, Gunson seated himself and began to eat, not like a man who partakes of food for the pleasure of the meal, but as if it was a necessity to supply himself with the support required for doing a great deal of work. And I suppose it was in something like that spirit that, after he had first requested me to eat, and then ordered me sharply, I managed to force a little down.

It was getting quite dark, when Gunson said suddenly--

"Now is there anything else we could do--anything we have not thought of?"

"The hospital," I said suddenly, as the idea came like a flash of light.

"I did not say anything to you, my lad," replied Gunson, "but that was the first place I went to, thinking he might have been knocked down.

No: try again."

But no, I could think of nothing else, and my despondency was rapidly increasing, when all at once Gunson jumped up and said sharply--

"It's too bad to destroy your belief, my lad, but I feel sure that mate of yours is playing you a dirty trick. He is a miserable coward, and hiding away. The lad has turned tail and--I'm a fool."

For at that moment, panting and exhausted with running, Esau rushed into the room, with nothing on but his shirt and trousers, and the former torn halfway across his back.

"Esau!" I shouted, joyfully.

"Then--you're--not gone," he panted hoa.r.s.ely; and turning from me, he threw himself into a chair at the table and began to eat ravenously.

"You young scoundrel! where have you been?" cried Gunson, angrily.

"Tell you presently," said Esau, with his mouth full. "Go and fetch the police."

"Police! no," cried Gunson, excitedly. "Here, do as I do," he continued; and taking out his handkerchief, he hastily made a bundle of the meat, b.u.t.ter, and bread we had left.

"No, no," cried Esau, "I'm so hungry."

"Eat as we go."

"Where?" I cried.

"Boat. We may catch the schooner after all."

"No, no," cried Esau; "fetch the police. They've got my clothes, money, everything. I'll show you where."

"And I'll show you where," cried Gunson, "if you don't come along."

"But I can't go like this," cried Esau.

"Can't you," said Gunson, fiercely. "Here, hi! Frau!"

The landlady came running in, and began to exclaim on seeing Esau's state; but she was silenced directly by Gunson, who thrust a couple of dollars into her hands, and between us we hurried Esau out into the road.

"But I can't--my--"

"Come along!" cried Gunson, fiercely.

"And they'll be after me directly," panted Esau. "Said I shouldn't go till I'd paid a hundred dollars."

"They had better come for them," muttered Gunson between his teeth; and after that Esau suffered himself to be hurried along, consoling himself with a few bites at the piece of bread he held, as we ran on to where in the soft moonlight we could see several good-sized fishing-boats lying, with men idling near them on the sh.o.r.e.

"Now then," cried Gunson, quickly; "we want to be put aboard the schooner that sailed this evening. Three dollars. There she is, two miles out."

No one answered.

"Four dollars!" shouted Gunson. "There's a good light wind, and you can soon reach her."

Still no one stirred, the men staring at us in a dull, apathetic way.

"Five dollars," cried Gunson, angrily.

"Say, stranger," said one of the men, "what's your hurry? stole suthin'?"