"Who's there?" called a voice from her deck.

"Man overboard!" I replied, puffing from the violence of my exertions.

"Where away?"

"On the barrel."

"I see him!" said one of the hands, as the bow of the boat ran up to the barrel.

A rope was thrown to me, and I was a.s.sisted on board.

"What's the matter? Did you fall overboard from the steamer?" asked a well-dressed, gentlemanly man, on the deck of the boat.

"Yes, sir; I suppose I did; I don't know exactly how it happened," I replied, spitting the salt water out of my mouth.

"You are fortunate to fall over just as the despatch boat was approaching you."

"Probably I shouldn't have fallen overboard if I had not been watching the barrel so intently."

"What shall we do for you?" asked the gentleman, kindly. "Come into the cabin, and get your wet clothes off."

The crew of the steamer were busy getting in the barrel, and my new friend, who was full of sympathy, conducted me to the cabin, where I divested myself of a portion of my clothing. By this time the despatches had been secured, and the captain came below. He gave me a flannel shirt and a pair of trowsers, and sent me to his state-room to put them on. I was very much alarmed about the safety of the contents of my money-belt; but, on removing it, I found that the oiled silk, in which the bank notes and the papers had been enclosed to prevent the perspiration of my body from injuring them, had protected them in a great measure. A few drops of water had penetrated through the folds of the silk, but no harm was done to the doc.u.ments or the money.

I wrung out the belt and put it on again, after I had wiped myself dry.

Clothing myself in the flannel shirt and pants, both of which were "a mile too big for me," I returned to the cabin. The captain then carried all my clothes to the furnace-room to be dried, just as the boat stopped at Crookhaven to land the despatches.

"I suppose you would like to follow the steamer, young man," said the gentleman who had been so kind to me.

"Very much, indeed!" I replied, eagerly; for I feared that the accident would render my mission to England fruitless.

"You are extremely fortunate again," added he. "This steamer is to proceed to Kinsale with me immediately."

Mr. Carmichael, the gentleman who addressed me, proved to be an agent of the telegraph company, who had come down to this station to look after its affairs. His business was finished, and he was in a hurry to reach London; but it was twenty miles, by a rough and tiresome road, to any public conveyance, and the steamer had been placed at his disposal. He told me he should have gone the day before, but the boat was required to be on the watch for the despatches.

"I hope to reach Kinsale in time for the nine o'clock train to Cork,"

said he. "If we do, you will not be much behind the steamer. Had you any friends on board?"

"Yes, sir, one gentleman," I replied.

"Of course he will be troubled about you. Perhaps you would like to telegraph to him."

I was pleased with this suggestion, for I felt that I had one good friend on board of the ship who would worry about me in the morning, when my absence was discovered. Knowing that Mr. Solomons intended to stay at the Washington Hotel in Liverpool, if he had to wait for a train, and at Morley's in London while in the metropolis, I wrote a brief despatch, to be forwarded to each, which Mr. Carmichael sent to the office. The steamer then proceeded on her trip to Kinsale, at three o'clock.

I was very grateful to Mr. Carmichael and the captain for their kindness to me, and I did not fail to express my obligations in the strongest terms. A berth in the cabin was a.s.signed to me, and as the run to Kinsale would occupy between five and six hours, I turned in to finish my nap. I was too much excited to sleep, and I could not help thinking of what had happened to me. I had never done such a thing as to fall overboard without some help. Though I was not positive, I had a very strong impression that I had felt something on my back, while watching the blue-light on the barrel. Whether it had been the swaying of the signal halyards against me, or the push of a human hand, I was not certain; but I could not help believing that E. Dunkswell had helped me to my involuntary bath. I don't know now, but I still believe it.

I had no doubt he had been instructed by Tom Thornton to see Bunyard before I did. Whether the villain intended to drown me, or only to delay my arrival in London, I have no means of knowing. Doubtless he intended to land at Queenstown, and get to London eight or ten hours before the pa.s.sengers who proceeded to Liverpool in the steamer. I went to sleep at last, satisfied that I was again the victim of a conspiracy. But when I was awakened at half past eight, in Kinsale harbor, I was also satisfied that the way of the wicked shall not prosper.

My clothes, thoroughly dried, were brought to me, and I dressed myself in season to land for the train for Cork, where we arrived as soon as the mails and those of the pa.s.sengers who landed there. I breakfasted with Mr. Carmichael at the Royal Victoria, and at twenty minutes of eleven we took the train for Dublin, where we arrived at half past three. Though I made diligent search among the pa.s.sengers, I could not find E. Dunkswell, and I concluded that he had gone to Liverpool in the steamer. In the evening I took the train for Kingstown, where I embarked in the steamer for Holyhead, at which place I again took a train, and at seven o'clock on Sat.u.r.day morning was at Morley's, in London, at least eight hours before my fellow-voyagers could arrive.

After I had breakfasted, I took the Bunyard letter from my money-belt, and hastened to find Old Jewry.

CHAPTER XXV.

IN WHICH ERNEST VISITS STONY STRATFORD, AND E. DUNKSWELL COMES TO GRIEF.

THOUGH I was in a strange land, and in the midst of the wonders of the Old World, I had but little curiosity to see the grand sights which London can present. I had been whirled through Ireland, Wales, and England to the great metropolis, part of the time by daylight; and though I had kept my eyes wide open, I realized that my mission was higher and grander than studying landscapes, and wandering through the vaulted arches of old cathedrals.

When Mr. Carmichael told me, early in the morning, that I was in England, the thought that I was in the same country with my mother thrilled me with delight, which, however, was not unmingled with apprehension lest I should seek and not find; lest disease and death had robbed me of her I sought. At the station in Euston Square I had parted with the telegraph agent, with many thanks for his kindness. I took his address, hoping that at some future time I might be able to reciprocate the attention he had bestowed upon me. I may as well say here that Mr. Carmichael afterwards came to the United States, and that I helped him to a situation which paid him ten times the salary he had ever before received, when he was as grateful to me as I had been to him.

Morley's Hotel is in Trafalgar Square, at one end of the Strand. I had looked up Old Jewry in the Post-office Directory. The hall porter of the hotel had given me general directions, and I walked out into the Strand, and took an omnibus with the word "Bank" painted on it. On the top of the London omnibus there is a double seat along the middle, on which the pa.s.sengers sit facing the buildings on each side of the street. I occupied one of these places. The Bank of England was my objective point, for Old Jewry was near it. I pa.s.sed St. Paul's, whose towering height and blackened walls I recognized, and entered Cheapside--a name which sounded quite familiar to me. I descended from my perch when the omnibus stopped, and after several inquiries found the place I sought.

Old Jewry was nothing but a narrow lane, and I had no difficulty in finding the number of Mr. Bunyard's office. I followed his name, repeated on the walls, up three flights of stairs; and by the time I had reached the third floor, I came to the conclusion that my uncle's agent was a person of no great consequence. He was fortunately in his room, a little apartment ten feet square, with no furniture but a desk and two chairs. Mr. Bunyard was a man of fifty or more. He stopped writing when I entered, and looked at me.

"Mr. Bunyard?" I asked, as politely as I could, while my heart leaped with emotion.

"The same," replied he.

I handed him the letter, which he opened at once. He took from it a bill of exchange, which seemed to light up his face with satisfaction.

"I am very happy to hear from my friend Mr. Thornton. I hope he is quite well. He does not mention the bearer of this letter," continued the agent, bestowing an inquiring look upon me.

"He was not aware, when he wrote the letter, that I should be the bearer of it," I replied, evasively. "My name is Thornton."

"I am happy to meet you, Mr. Thornton," he added.

"How is Mrs. Thornton now?" I inquired, boldly, though my heart almost sank within me, when I put the question.

He looked at me--appeared to hesitate; but a glance at the letter and the bill of exchange I had brought apparently rea.s.sured him. Doubtless he concluded, as I supposed he would, that it was all right, since I came directly from his employer, and was the bearer of a payment to him.

"Mrs. Thornton is quite as well as usual," he replied.

"I wish to see her," I continued, squarely.

"Did your father desire you to see her?" he asked, doubtfully.

"Of course he did," I answered, which was quite true, though my conscience charged me with deceiving him. "I wish to make an arrangement with her."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, sir."

"It would be proper that any arrangement with her should be made through me," he added, cautiously.

"Of course, the actual business will be done through you," I replied, magnanimously.