To The West - Part 28
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Part 28

"No," I shouted; "but it's as if they have. Our chests are aboard, and we've paid our pa.s.sage."

"Come on then," said one of the men, rousing himself. "I'll take you for five dollars. Jump in."

He led the way to a little skiff, two more of his companions following him, and they rowed us out to one of the fishing-boats, made fast the one we had come in with the painter, cast off the buoy-rope, and began to hoist a sail, with the result that a soft pattering sound began under the boat's bows, and she careened over and began to glide softly away, the man who had gone to the rudder guiding her safely through the vessels lying by the buoy near the sh.o.r.e.

"There," cried Gunson, taking off the pea-jacket he wore, and throwing it to Esau. "Put that on, my lad; and here, eat away if you're hungry.

You shall tell us afterwards where you've been."

"But they've got my money," said Esau, in an ill-used tone.

"Then we must share with you, and set you up. Think we shall catch the schooner, skipper?"

"Guess we shall if this wind holds. If it changes she'll be off out to sea, and we shall lose her. Guess you'll pay your five dollars all the same?"

"Look here," said Gunson, roughly. "You've got an Englishman to deal with."

"Oh, yes; guess I see that; but you send some ugly customers out here sometimes, stranger. Not good enough for yew to keep at home."

Gunson made no answer, but sat watching the vessel, which, as it lay far out in the soft moonlight, looked faint, shadowy, and unreal.

Every now and then a good puff of wind filled our sail, so that the boat rushed through the water, and our hopes rose high, far we felt that in less than an hour we should be alongside our goal; but soon after Gunson would utter an impatient e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, for the wind that sent us surging through the beautiful waters of the bay, sent the schooner along rapidly too, so that she grew more faint.

Once or twice I glanced back at the sh.o.r.e, to see how beautiful the town looked with its lights rising above lights, and all softened and subdued in the clear moonlight; but I was soon looking ahead again, for our chase was too exciting for me to take much interest in a view.

Every now and then the boat tacked, and we went skimming along with her gunwale close down to the water, when we were all called upon to shift our position, the boatman evidently doing his best to overtake the schooner, which kept seeming nearer and then farther off in the most tantalising way.

"Guess I didn't ask you enough, skipper," said the boatman. "This is going to be a long job, and I don't think we shall dew it now."

"Do your best, man," said Gunson quietly. "I must overtake the schooner if it is possible."

All at once the wind dropped, the sail shivered and flapped, and we lay almost without motion, but to our annoyance we could just make out the schooner with her sails well filled, gliding steadily away.

The master of the boat laughed.

"Wait a bit," he said. "She won't go on like that long. P'r'aps we shall have the wind next and she be nowhere."

Gunson glanced at the oars, but feeling that if we were to overtake the vessel it must be by means of the sails, he said nothing, but sat watching by me till we saw the schooner's sails die away.

"Gone?" I whispered.

"No; she has changed her course a little and is stern on to us. There, you can see her again."

To my great delight I saw that it was so, the schooner having now turned, and she grew plainer and plainer in our sight as the moon shone full now on the other side of her sails, and we saw that she too was becalmed. Then in a few minutes our own sails filled, and we went gliding on over the glistening sea, which flashed like silver as we looked back.

I uttered a sigh full of relief, for the schooner still lay becalmed, while we were now rushing through the water.

"Well, my lad," said Gunson suddenly, "we thought we had lost you. How was it? One of us thought you had turned tail, and slipped away."

"That wasn't Mr Gordon, I know," said Esau. "I ain't the slipping away sort. Those chaps got hold of me again, and I don't like going away like this without setting the police at them."

"You are best away, my lad," said Gunson.

"I don't know so much about that," cried Esau. "They've got all my money, and my knife and coat, and that new pipe."

"What new pipe?" I said sharply. "You don't smoke."

"n.o.body said I did," replied Esau, gruffly. "Fellow isn't obliged to smoke because he's got a pipe in his pocket, is he?"

"No, but you had no pipe in your pockets this morning, because you turned them all out before me."

"Well, then, I'd got one since if you must know."

"Why, you did not go away to buy a pipe, did you?" I said.

"Why, there wouldn't ha' been any harm in it if I had, would there?" he said surlily, as he held one hand over the side to let the water foam through his fingers.

"Then you gave us all this trouble and anxiety," I cried angrily, "and have made us perhaps ruin our pa.s.sage, because you wanted to learn to smoke."

"I didn't know it was going to give all this trouble," he said, in a grumbling tone.

"But you see it has."

"Well, I've got it worse than you have, haven't I? Lost everything I've got except what's in my chest."

"And it begins to look as if you've lost that too, my lad," said Gunson bitterly. "You'd better have waited a bit before you began to learn to smoke. There goes your chest and your pa.s.sage money."

"Yes, and ours," I said, as Gunson pointed to where the schooner's sails were once more full, and she was gliding away. "Is it any use to shout and hail them?"

"Stretch your breathing tackle a bit, my lad," said the master. "Do you good p'r'aps."

"But wouldn't they hear us?"

"No; and if they did they wouldn't stop," said the master; and we all sat silent and gloomy, till the injury Esau had inflicted upon us through that pipe came uppermost again.

"Serves you well right, Esau," I said to him in a low voice. "You deserve to lose your things for sneaking off like that to buy a pipe.

You--pish--want to learn to smoke!"

I said this with so much contempt in my tones that my words seemed to sting him.

"Didn't want to learn to smoke," he grumbled.

"Yes, you did. Don't make worse of it by telling a lie."

"Who's telling a lie?" he cried aloud. "Tell you I wasn't going to smoke it myself."

"Then why did you go for it?"

"Never you mind," he said sulkily, "Pipe's gone--half-dollar pipe in a case--n.o.body won't smoke it now, p'r'aps. Wish I hadn't come."