Chapter Nineteen.

Chapter Nineteen.Homeward Bound.It was a month after the return of Jacob and his party from the diggings that Frank, Jacob, and Captain Merryweather met on board theSabrinaat Port Adelaide.“So, Jacob, my boy,” cried the captain; “why, how you’re grown! Colonial life agrees with you. I should hardly have known you. And you’re coming home in the old ship. I’m heartily glad of it; that is, supposing you’re the same lad as when you sailed with me before. I mean, as stanch an abstainer.”“Ay, that he is,” said Frank warmly.“And you too, Mr Oldfield?”“Well, I am at present,” replied the other, colouring; “and I hope to continue so.”“Ah, then, I suppose you’ve never signed the pledge.”“No; more’s the pity.”“Oh, Mayster Frank,” interposed Jacob, “you promised me, when you were so ill, as you’d sign when you got better.”“And so I will; but it’s no use signing for the first time now, when I’m going home in a total abstinence ship. I’ll join some society at home. Our good rector’s, for instance. Yes; I’ll join his, and my name and example will be really of some use then.”“Excuse me, Mr Oldfield, pressing you on the subject, but I hope you’ll allow me the privilege of an old friend,” said the captain. “I feel so very strongly on the matter. I’ve seen so very much mischief done from putting off; and if a thing’s worth doing, it’s worth doing at once; take my advice—‘There’s no time like the present;’ ‘Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day;’ these are two good proverbs. I’ve found them of immense value in my line of life.”“Yes; they’re very good proverbs, no doubt,” said Frank, laughing; “but there are some as good, perhaps, on the other side, though you won’t think so; for instance, ‘Second thoughts are best,’ and ‘Better late than never.’”“True, Mr Oldfield; but ‘late’ often runs into never.”Frank made a gay, evasive reply, and turned hastily away, leaving Jacob to arrange some matters in his cabin, while he went himself on shore.He was loitering about among the warehouses till Jacob should join him, when a figure which seemed familiar to him approached, in earnest conversation with another man, but he could not see the face of either distinctly. After a while they parted, and the man whom he seemed to recognise was left alone, and turned towards him. But could it really be? Dare he believe his eyes? Yes; there could be no mistake, it was indeed Juniper Graves. That rather reckless character was, however, much more spruce in his appearance, and better dressed, than when in Frank Oldfield’s service. There was an assumption of the fine gentleman about him, which made him look ludicrously contemptible, and had Frank not been roused to furious indignation at the sight of him, he could hardly have refrained from a violent outburst of merriment at the absurd airs and graces of his former servant. As it was, breathless with wrath, his eyes flashing, and his face in a crimson glow, he rushed upon the object of his just resentment, and, seizing him by the collar, exclaimed in a voice of suppressed passion,—“You—you confounded scoundrel! you rascally thief! So I’ve caught you at last. I’ll make very short work withyou, you ungrateful villain.”Then he paused for a moment, and shaking him violently, added,—“What have you to say for yourself, why I shouldn’t hand you over at once to the police?”Nothing could be more whimsically striking than the contrast between Juniper Graves’ grand and jaunty bearing a moment before, and his present utter crawling abjectness. He became white with terror, and looked the very picture of impotent cowardice. But this was but for a minute; then his self-possession returned to him. He felt that, if his master gave him over immediately in charge to the police, everything was lost; but if he could only get a hearing for a few minutes, before any further step was taken, he was persuaded that he could manage to stem the torrent that was bearing against him, especially as, fortunately for him, Frank Oldfield and himself were alone. His first object, therefore, was to gain time.“Oh, Mr Frank, Mr Frank!” he cried beseechingly, “spare me—spare me—you don’t know all—you’re labouring under a great misapplication; if you only knew all, you’d think very indifferently of me.”“That’s just what I do now,” said the other, smiling in spite of himself. Juniper saw the smile. He was satisfied that his case was not hopeless.“Pray, Mr Frank,” he said humbly and softly, “pray do take your hand off my coat; there’s no need, sir—I shan’t try to escape, sir—I’ll follow you as impressively as a lamb—only give me time, and I’ll explain all.”“Indeed!” exclaimed Frank; “do you mean to tell me that you’ll explain back my fifty pounds into my pocket again?”“Yes, sir, and more besides, if you’ll only be patient and hear me. Thank you, sir. If you’ll just step in here, sir, I hope to be able to explain all to your satisfaction.”They entered a little office connected with a weighing-machine, which happened to be vacant at the time.“Now, mind,” said Frank Oldfield, when they were shut in alone, “I’ll have a straightforward statement, without any prevarication, or I give you over at once into custody. If you can’t clear yourself, and I don’t see how you possibly can, there’s the jail before you, the only place you’re fit for.”“I’m quite aware, sir, that appearances are against me,” said the other meekly; “but, Mr Frank, you’ll not refuse to listen to your old servant, that’s devoted himself so faithfully to you and yours in England, and came across the seas just because he couldn’t abide to be separated from you any longer.”“Come, sir,” said Frank Oldfield sternly; “I’m not to be talked over in this way. You weren’t so very anxious to avoid separation when you left me on a sick-bed, and made off with my fifty pounds. Come, sir, give me your explanation, as you call it, at once, and without any nonsense about your faithfulness to me and mine, or I shall put the prison-door between you and me, and that’ll be a separation you’ll not get over so easily.”“But you haven’t heard me, sir; you haven’t heard all. You don’t know what I have to say in attenuation of my offence.”“I mayn’t have heard all, Juniper, but I’ve both heard and seen about you a great deal more than I like; so let me warn you again, I must have a plain, straightforward statement. What have you done with my money, and how can you justify your abandoning me in my illness?”“Ah! Mr Frank, you little know me—you little know what’s in my heart. You little know how every pulse reverberates with deepest affection. But I’ll go to the point, sir, at once;” for Frank began to exhibit signs of impatience. “When I saw you was getting ill, sir, and not able to care for yourself, I says to myself, ‘I must ride off for a doctor. But what’ll my poor master do while I’m gone? he’s no power to help himself, and if any stranger should come in—and who knows it mightn’t be one of these bushrangers!—he’d be sure to take advantage of him and steal his money while he lay helpless.’ So says I to myself again, ‘I think I’ll risk it. I know it’ll look awkward,’—but there’s nothing like a good conscience, when you know you haven’t meant to do wrong. ‘I’ll just take the money with me, and keep it safe for him till I get back.’ Nay, please, Mr Frank, hear me out. Well, I took the fifty pounds, I don’t deny it; it may have been an error in judgment, but we’re all of us infallible beings. I rode off to find a doctor, but no doctor could I find; but I met a young bushman, who said he’d get some one to look after you till I could return.”“And why didn’t you return; and how came you to want two horses to fetch the doctor with?” asked Frank impatiently.“Ah! dear sir, don’t be severe with me till you know all. I took both the horses for the same reason that I took the money. I was afraid a stranger might come while I was away, perhaps a bushranger, and the very first thing he’d have laid his hands on would have been the horse.”“Well; and why didn’t you come back?”“I did try, sir, to come back, but I missed my road, and made many fruitful efforts to regain my lost track. At last, after I’d tried, and tried, and tried again, I gave up in despair, and I should have perished in the scowling wilderness if I hadn’t met with a party going to the diggings. Then the thought crossed my mind, ‘I’ll go and dig for gold; if I succeed, I’ll show my dear master that I’m no slave to Mammoth, but I’ll lay down my spoils at his feet; and if I fail, I cannot help it.’ Well, sir, I went and dug with a good will. I prospered. I came back to look for my dear master, but I could not find him—he was evacuated. At last I heard that you were going to England, Mr Frank, and I said to myself; ‘I’ll go too. I’ll pay my own passage. I’ll be the dear young master’s devoted servant, and he shall see by my unwearied intentions that I never really could have meant to do him wrong.’”“And do you really think me such a fool as to believe all this?” asked Frank contemptuously.“Yes, sir; I do hope you will, sir,” was the reply of Juniper. “There, sir,” he added, “I’ll give you the best proof that I’m not the rogue you took me for. Please, sir, to read what’s on that packet, and then open it.”Frank took from his hands a heavy parcel, on which was clearly written, “F Oldfield, Esquire; from Juniper Graves.” He opened it. It contained six ten-pound notes and a leather bag full of nuggets.“There, sir,” said Juniper, triumphantly, “you can tell that this is no got-up thing. I’ve had no time to write these words on the paper since you collared me. I’ve carried it about just as it is for weeks, as you may plainly see by looking at the cover of it, till I could give it into your own hands.”It was clear, certainly, that the paper had been folded and directed some considerable time back, as was manifest from the marks of wear and rubbing which it exhibited. Frank was staggered.“Really, Juniper,” he said, “I don’t know what to think, I can’t deny that this packet has been made up for me before our present meeting, and it has all the appearance of having been some considerable time just as it now is. It certainly looks as if you didn’t mean to rob me, as you’ve paid me, I should think, nearly double what you took. Of course, I don’t want that. I shall not take more than my fifty pounds.”“Oh, sir, do take the rest, as some amends for the anxiety I’ve caused you by my foolish act, in taking charge of your money in the way I did without your knowledge or permission. It was wrong, and I oughtn’t to have done it; but I meant it for the best. And oh, dear master, do think the best of me. I never did mean to harm you; and I’m ready to go with you now from the Pole to the Antipathies.”“No, Juniper, I shall only take my own,” said his master; and he restored him one of the ten-pound notes and the nuggets, which Juniper accepted with apparent reluctance.“So far,” said Frank Oldfield, “let bygones be bygones. I trust that you’ll not make any more such awkward mistakes.”“You’re satisfied then, sir?” asked Graves.“Yes, so far as my money is concerned. But there’s a graver charge against you still. Jacob Poole has informed me, and asserts it most positively, that you stole into his tent at the diggings and tried to murder him.”“Well, did I ever!” exclaimed Juniper, holding up both his hands in amazement. “I really think, sir, that young man can’t be quite right in his head.Metry to murder him! why, I’ve never set eyes on him since the day he spoke so impertinently to me at the cottage.Memurder him! what can the poor, silly young man be thinking of. It’s all his fancy, sir; merely congestion of the brain, sir, I assure you; nothing but congestion of the brain.”“It may be so,” replied Frank; “but here he comes himself; let us hear what he has to say on the subject.”They both stepped out into the open air as Jacob Poole came up.Poor Jacob, had he seen the “father of lies” himself walking with his master, he could hardly have been more astounded. He rubbed his eyes, and stared hard again at Frank and his companion, to assure himself that he was not mistaken or dreaming. No; there could be no doubt of it. Frank Oldfield was there, and Juniper Graves was as clearly there; and it was equally plain that there was more of confidence than of distrust in his master’s manner towards the robber and intended murderer. What could it all mean?“Come here, Jacob,” said Frank. “I see you look rather aghast, and I don’t wonder; but perhaps you may find that Juniper Graves here is not quite so black as we have thought him. He acknowledges that he took my fifty pounds, but he says he never meant to keep it; and that he missed his way in looking for a doctor, and afterwards joined a party at the diggings.”“Well, Mayster Frank?” said Jacob, with a look of strong incredulity.“Ah, I see you don’t believe it, and I own it don’t sound very likely; but then, you see, he has given me a proof of his wish not to wrong me; for—look here, Jacob—he has returned me my fifty pounds, and wanted me to take another ten pounds, and some nuggets besides, his own hard earnings at the diggings; only, of course, I wouldn’t have them.”“Indeed, mayster,” replied Jacob, with a dry cough of disbelief; and glancing at Juniper, who had assumed, and was endeavouring to keep up on his cunning countenance, an appearance of injured virtue.“Yes, indeed, Jacob,” said his master; “and we mustn’t be too hard upon him. He did wrong, no doubt, and he has made the best amends he could. If he had been a thorough rogue, he never would have cared to seek me out and return me my money with large interest. And, what’s more, he’s coming over to England in the same ship with us; not as my servant, but paying his own passage, just for the sake of being near me. That doesn’t look like a thoroughly guilty conscience.”“Coming home in the same vessel with us!” cried Jacob, in utter astonishment and dismay. “Coming home in the same vessel!”“Yes, Mr Poole,” said Juniper, stepping forward, and speaking with an air of loftiness and injured innocence; “and, pray, why not coming home in the same vessel? What haveyouto say against it, I should like to know? Am I to askyourleave in what ship I shall cross the brawny deep? Have you a conclusive right to the company of our master?—for he is mine as well as yours till he himself banishes me irresolutely from his presence.”“You shall not sail in the same vessel with us, if I can hinder it, as sure as my name’s Jacob Poole,” said the other.“And howcanyou hinder it, Mr Poole, I should like you to tell me? I ask nobody’s favour. I’ve paid my passage-money. I suppose my brass, as you wulgarly call it, is as good as any other man’s.”“Well,” said Jacob, “I’ll just tell you what it is. You’ll have to clear up another matter afore you can start for England. You’ll have to tell the magistrate how it was as you crept into my tent at the diggings, and tried to stick your knife into me. What do you say to that, Mr Juniper Graves?”Just the very slightest tremor passed through Juniper’s limbs, and the faintest tinge of paleness came over his countenance at this question, but he was himself again in a moment.“Really,” he exclaimed, “it’s enough to throw a man off his balance, and deprive him of his jurisprudence, to have such shocking charges brought against him. But I should like, sir, to ask this Mr Poole a question or two, as he’s so ready to accuse me of all sorts of crimes; he don’t suppose that I’m going to take him for judge, jury, and witnesses, without having a little shifting of the evidence.”“Well, of course, it’s only fair that you should ask him for proof;” said Frank.“Come, then, Mr Poole,” said Juniper, in a fierce swaggering tone, “just tell me how you canprovethat I ever tried to murder you? Pooh! it’s easy enough to talk about tents; and knives, and such things, but how can you prove it that I ever tried to murder you? a likely thing, indeed.”“Prove it!” exclaimed Jacob, evidently a little at fault.“Yes, prove it. Do you think I’m going to have my character sworn away on such unsubstantial hallucinations? Tell me, first, what time of the day did it happen?”“It didn’t happen in the day at all, as you know well enough.”“Was it dark?”“Yes.”“Could you see who it was as tried to murder you, as you say?”“No.”“Then how do you know it was me?”“I hit the scoundrel with my spade,” said Jacob, indignantly, “and made him sing out, and I knowed it were your voice; I should have knowed it among a thousand.”“And that’s all your proof,” said the other, sneeringly. “You knowed my voice.”“Ay,” replied Jacob; “and I left my mark on you too. There’s a scar on your hand. I haven’t a doubt that’s it.”“Can you prove it?” asked the other, triumphantly. “A scar, indeed! Do you think scars are such uncommon things with men as works hard at the diggings, that you can swear to one scar? A precious likely story!”“Ah, but I saw you myself.”“When?”“At two of the preachings.”“Preachings! and what then? I didn’t try and murder you at the preachings, did I? But are you sure it was me, after all, as you saw at the preachings?”“Quite.”“How was I dressed? Was the person you took for me just the same as me? Had he the same coloured hair—smooth face, like me?”“I’ll tell you plain truth,” said Jacob, warmly; “it were you. I’m as sure as I’m here it were you; but you’d blacked your sandy hair, and growed a beard on your lip.”“Well, I never!” cried the other, in a heat of virtuous indignation. “Here’s a man as wants to make out I tried to murder him; but when I asks him to prove it, all he says is, he couldn’t see me do it, that he heard my voice, that I’ve got a scar on my hand, that he saw me twice at some preachings, but it wasn’t me neither; it wasn’t my hair, it wasn’t my beard, and yet he’s sure it was me. Here’s pretty sort of evidence to swear away a man’s life on. Why, I wonder, young man, you ain’t ashamed to look me in the face after such a string of tergiversations.”“I think, Jacob,” said his master, “you’d better say no more about it. It’s plain you’ve no legal proof against Juniper; you may be mistaken, after all. Let us take the charitable side, and forget what’s past. There, shake hands; and as we’re to be all fellow-voyagers, let us all be friends.”But Jacob drew back.“No, mayster; I’ll not grip the hand of any man, if my heart cannot go with it. Time’ll show. By your leave, I’ll go and get the dog-cart ready; for I suppose you’ll be going back to Adelaide directly?”His master nodding assent, Jacob went to fetch the vehicle, and on his return found his master in earnest conversation with Juniper.“Good-bye, then, Juniper, till we meet next Thursday on board theSabrina,” he cried.“Good-bye, sir; and many thanks for your kindness.”Jacob, of course, uttered no word of farewell; but just looking round for an instant, he saw Juniper’s eyes fixed on him with such a look of deadly, savage hatred, as assured him—though he needed no such assurance—that his intended murderer was really there.“I think, Jacob, you’re rather hard on Juniper,” said his master, as they drove along. “He has done wrong; but I am persuaded he has still a strong attachment to me, and I really cannot think he can have been the person who tried to murder you. Why should you think it, Jacob? He’s never done you any harm before.”“Mr Frank, you must excuse me; but I’m sure I’m not mistaken. He’s always hated me ever since the day I spoke out my mind to you at the cottage. Take my word for it, Mr Frank, he’s no love for you; he only wants to make a tool of you, just to serve his own purposes.”“Nay, nay, Jacob, my good fellow; not so fast. He cannot be so utterly selfish, or he never would have offered me the extra ten-pound note and the nuggets, over and above the fifty pounds, if he hadn’t really a love for me, and a true sorrow for what he has done wrong.”“I cannot see that,” was the reply. “Of course, he knowed he was likely to meet you when he came to Adelaide; and he was pretty sure what’d happen if you gave him in charge to the police. He knowed well enough they wouldn’t listen to his tale; so, just to keep clear of the prison, he gave you the money, and made up his story just to save hisself. He knowed fast enough as you’d never take more nor your fifty pounds.”“Ah, but Jacob,” said his master, “you’re wrong there. He had made up the parcel, nuggets and all, and directed it to me long before he saw me. Don’t that show that he intended it all for me, whether he met me or no?”“Not a bit of it, Mr Frank,” replied Jacob, bluntly. “He knowed precious well how to play his game. I’ll be bound there’s summat wrong about his getting this gold; I’ll ne’er believe he dug it up hisself. I shouldn’t wonder if he hasn’t robbed some poor chap as has worked hard for it; and now he wants to get out of the colony as fast as he can afore he’s found out. And, in course, he’s been carrying this brass lapped up a long time, just in case you should light on him at any time, and he might seem to have a proper tale to tell. But you may be right sure, Mr Frank, as you’d ne’er have seen a penny of it if he could only have got clear out of the colony without coming across yourself.”“You’re not very charitable, Jacob, I think,” said his master; “but it may be as you say. And yet, why should he be so anxious to go out in the same ship with me? If he wanted to keep his money to himself; why didn’t he keep close till theSabrinawas gone, and then sail by the next vessel?”“Perhaps he did mean it, Mr Frank, only you happened to light on him.”“No, that cannot be, for he says he has paid for his own passage.”“Then, if that’s a true tale,” said the other, “I’ll be bound he’s not done it with any good meaning for you or me. I shall keep both my eyes well open, or he’ll be too much for me. And as for you, Mr Frank, oh, don’t listen to him, or he’ll hook all your brass as he’s given you out of your pocket again, or he’ll lead you back to the drink if he can.”Frank coloured, and looked troubled, and turned the conversation to another subject.At last the day of sailing came. TheSabrina, taken in tow by a steam-tug, soon made her way to Holdfast Bay, where she was to lie at anchor till Saturday morning. Hubert and his uncle accompanied Frank Oldfield thus far, and then returned in the steam-tug. Before they parted, Hubert had a long conversation with his friend in his cabin. His last words were of Mary, and Frank’s one special temptation; and they separated with a fervent grasp, and eyes brimming with tears. Yet in neither of their hearts was there hope. Hubert felt that his friend had not satisfied him that he really meant utterly and for ever to renounce strong drink; and Frank felt that he had withheld any positive promise so to abstain, because he knew that the deep-rooted purpose of his heart was to resume the indulgence which would be his ruin, body and soul.And where was Juniper? No one saw him on deck; and yet assuredly he was on board the vessel, for Jacob had seen him come up the side.Saturday morning, and a fine favourable wind. Up comes the anchor—theSabrinabends to the breeze—away they go! Kangaroo Island is reached and passed. Then emerges Juniper Graves from his cabin between decks, and smiles as he looks around him. All is safe now.TheSabrinahad been gone ten days, when a weary, downcast-looking man entered Mr Abraham Oliphant’s office.“Your name ain’t Oliphant, is it?” he asked, doggedly.“Yes, it is,” said Hubert, whom he was addressing.The man got up, and stared steadily at him for a minute.“It ain’t him!” he muttered to himself.Hubert was inclined at first to be amused; but there was something in the man’s manner that checked his merriment.“You want my uncle, perhaps,” he said.Mr Abraham Oliphant came at his nephew’s summons. The man, who had all the appearance of a returned digger, shook his head.“You’veneither on you been to the diggings, I reckon?”“No; we have neither of us been,” said the merchant.“Are there any of your name as has been?” asked the other.“None; I can answer for it,” was the reply. “My sons have none of them been; and we, with my nephew here, are all the Oliphants in this colony. No Oliphant has been to the diggings from South Australia.”The man sighed deeply.“Can you make anything out o’ that?” he asked, handing a piece of soiled paper to Mr Oliphant. “I can’t read myself, but you can read it.”The merchant took the piece of paper and examined it. It had once been part of an envelope, but had been torn and rolled up to light a pipe, and one end, where it had been used, was burned. The words left on it were all incomplete, except the names “Oliphant” and “Australia.” What was left was as follows:—yes,Oliphant,delaide,th Australia.Both uncle and nephew scrutinised it attentively. At last Hubert said,—“I can tell now who this belonged to.”“Who?” cried the man, eagerly.“Why, to one Juniper Graves, a servant of Mr Frank Oldfield’s. He chose to take upon himself to have his letters from England directed to the care of my uncle, and this is one of the envelopes.”“And where is he? Can you tell me where I can find him?” cried the digger, in great excitement.“I’m afraid you’ll not find him at all, my friend,” replied the merchant, “for he left the colony in theSabrinafor England ten days ago.”The effect of this announcement on the poor man was tremendous. He uttered a violent imprecation, stamped furiously on the ground, while he ground his teeth together. Then he sat down, and covered his face with his hands in mute despair.“I fear there has been some foul play,” said Mr Oliphant to his nephew.“Foul play!” cried the unfortunate digger, starting up furiously. “I’ll tell you what it is. Yon rascal’s been and robbed me of all as I got by my hard labour; and now he’s got clean off. But I’ll follow him, and have the law of him, if I work my passage home for it.”“I’ve always had a suspicion that the fellow had not come honestly by his gains,” said Hubert.“And why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you have him taken up on suspicion?” exclaimed the other bitterly.“I had no grounds for doing so,” replied Hubert. “He might have come honestly by his money for anything I knew to the contrary. There was nothing to show that he had not been successful, as many other diggers have been.”“Successful!” cried the poor man. “Ay, he’s been successful in making a precious fool of me.”“Tell us how it happened,” said Mr Oliphant.“Why, you see, gentlemen, my mates and me had done very well; and they was for going to Melbourne with what they’d got, but I was for stopping to get a little more. Well, I was all alone, and a little fidgetty like for fear of getting robbed, when one evening I sees a sandy-haired chap near my tent as didn’t look much used to hard work; so I has a bit o’ talk with him. He seemed a greenish sort of piece, and I thought as p’raps I might just make use of him, and keep him for company’s sake. So he and I agreed to be mates; he was to do the lighter work, and I was to do the hard digging, and keep the biggest share of what we got. So we chummed together; and he seemed a mighty pleasant sort of a cove for a bit. He was always a-talking, and had his mouth full o’ big words. I never said nothing about what I’d got afore, and he never seemed to care to ask me. But it were all his deepness. One night he pulls out a pack of cards, and says, ‘Let’s have a game. Only for love,’ says he, when he saw me look a little shyly at him. ‘I’m not a gambler,’ says he; ‘I never plays for money.’ So we has a game and a pipe together, and he pulls out a little flask of spirits, and we got very cheerful. But I was careful not to take too much that night. However, the rum set my tongue loose, and I let out something about having more gold than he knowed of. I was mighty vexed, however, next day, when I remembered what I’d said. But he never said a word about it, but looked werry innocent. A few nights arterwards we gets drinking and smoking again. Then he took a little too much himself. I knowed it, because next day he was axing me if I’d see’d anything of an envelope as he’d lost. I told him ‘no;’ but the real fact was, he’d twisted it up to light his pipe with, and I’d picked up the bit as he threw away, and put it in my pocket. I didn’t think anything about it then; but next day, when he made a great fuss about it, and the day after too, I said to myself; ‘I’ll keep the bit of paper; maybe summat’ll turn up from it one of these days.’ So I took it out of my pocket when he were not by, and stowed it away where I knew he couldn’t find it. But I shall weary you, gentlemen, with my long story. Well, the long and short of it was just this. He managed to keep the spirit-bottle full, and got me jolly well drunk one night; and then I’ve no doubt I told him all he wanted to know about my gold, for I know no more nor the man in the moon what I said to him. I asked him next day what I’d been talking about; and he said I was very close, and wouldn’t let out anything. Well, it seems there was a strong party leaving the diggings a day or so arter; but it was kept very snug. Jemmy Thomson—that was what my new mate called himself to me—had managed to hear of it, and got leave to join ’em. So, the night afore they went, he gets me into a regular talk about the old country, and tells me all sorts of queer stories, and keeps filling my pannikin with grog till I was so beastly drunk that I knew nothing of what had happened till it was late the next morning. Then I found he was off. He’d taken every nugget I’d got, and some bank-notes too, as I’d stowed away in a safe place. The party had started afore daybreak; and nobody knowed which way they’d gone, for they’d got off very secret. I was like one mad, you may be sure, when I discovered what he’d been and done. I took the bit of paper with me, and managed somehow to get to Melbourne. I tried to find him out; some only laughed at me. I went to the police; they couldn’t do nothing for me—some on ’em told me it served me right for getting drunk. Then I went to a minister; and he was very kind, and made all sorts of inquiries for me. He said he’d reason to believe as Jemmy Thomson—as the rascal called himself—was not in Melbourne. And then he looked at my paper. ‘Call on me to-morrow,’ says he. And so I did. Then he says, ‘There’s no Oliphant here as I can find out; but there’s a Mr Abraham Oliphant, a merchant, in Adelaide. This letter’s been to him; you’d better see him.’ So I’ve come here overland with a party; and now I must try my hand at summat or starve, for I shall never see my money nor the villain as stole it no more.”Mr Oliphant was truly sorry for the unfortunate man, and bade him take heart, promising to find him employment if he was willing to stick to his work and be sober. The man was thankful for the offer, and worked for a few weeks, but he was still all athirst for the gold, and, as soon as he could purchase the necessary tools, set out again for the diggings, with an earnest caution from Mr Oliphant to keep from the drink if he would not suffer a repetition of his loss and misery.And thus it was that Juniper Graves had acquired his ill-gotten wealth. Having ascertained that a party was returning to South Australia, he joined himself to them, and got safe off with his stolen gold. As Jacob Poole had surmised, he had made up the packet of notes with the nuggets, that, should he happen to fall in with his master, he might be able to pacify him, and so prepare the way for regaining his favour and his own hold upon him. He felt quite sure, from what he knew of Frank Oldfield’s generous character, that he never would take more than the fifty pounds, and he was aware that unless he made unhesitating restitution of that sum, he was in danger of losing all, and of being thrown into prison. And now he was anxious to leave the colony as soon as possible, that he might put the sea between himself and the man he had robbed; and, having ascertained that Frank Oldfield and Jacob Poole were returning to England in theSabrina, he took his passage in the same vessel, partly with the view of getting his young master once more into his power, and partly in the hope of finding an opportunity of wreaking his vengeance on Jacob Poole. Therefore he was determined to leave no stone unturned to regain his influence over Frank, for his object was to use him for his own purposes both during and after the voyage. To this end his first great aim would be to cause, if possible, an estrangement between Jacob and his master. He also hoped to do his rival—as he considered Jacob—some injury of a serious kind, without exposing himself to detection. So far he had succeeded. All had prospered to his utmost wishes; and, as the shores of Kangaroo Island faded from the view of the voyagers, he hugged himself in secret and said,—“Bravo, Juniper!—bravo! You’ve managed it to a T. Ah, Mr Jacob Poole! I’ll make your master’s cabin too hot to hold you afore any of us is a month older.”

It was a month after the return of Jacob and his party from the diggings that Frank, Jacob, and Captain Merryweather met on board theSabrinaat Port Adelaide.

“So, Jacob, my boy,” cried the captain; “why, how you’re grown! Colonial life agrees with you. I should hardly have known you. And you’re coming home in the old ship. I’m heartily glad of it; that is, supposing you’re the same lad as when you sailed with me before. I mean, as stanch an abstainer.”

“Ay, that he is,” said Frank warmly.

“And you too, Mr Oldfield?”

“Well, I am at present,” replied the other, colouring; “and I hope to continue so.”

“Ah, then, I suppose you’ve never signed the pledge.”

“No; more’s the pity.”

“Oh, Mayster Frank,” interposed Jacob, “you promised me, when you were so ill, as you’d sign when you got better.”

“And so I will; but it’s no use signing for the first time now, when I’m going home in a total abstinence ship. I’ll join some society at home. Our good rector’s, for instance. Yes; I’ll join his, and my name and example will be really of some use then.”

“Excuse me, Mr Oldfield, pressing you on the subject, but I hope you’ll allow me the privilege of an old friend,” said the captain. “I feel so very strongly on the matter. I’ve seen so very much mischief done from putting off; and if a thing’s worth doing, it’s worth doing at once; take my advice—‘There’s no time like the present;’ ‘Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day;’ these are two good proverbs. I’ve found them of immense value in my line of life.”

“Yes; they’re very good proverbs, no doubt,” said Frank, laughing; “but there are some as good, perhaps, on the other side, though you won’t think so; for instance, ‘Second thoughts are best,’ and ‘Better late than never.’”

“True, Mr Oldfield; but ‘late’ often runs into never.”

Frank made a gay, evasive reply, and turned hastily away, leaving Jacob to arrange some matters in his cabin, while he went himself on shore.

He was loitering about among the warehouses till Jacob should join him, when a figure which seemed familiar to him approached, in earnest conversation with another man, but he could not see the face of either distinctly. After a while they parted, and the man whom he seemed to recognise was left alone, and turned towards him. But could it really be? Dare he believe his eyes? Yes; there could be no mistake, it was indeed Juniper Graves. That rather reckless character was, however, much more spruce in his appearance, and better dressed, than when in Frank Oldfield’s service. There was an assumption of the fine gentleman about him, which made him look ludicrously contemptible, and had Frank not been roused to furious indignation at the sight of him, he could hardly have refrained from a violent outburst of merriment at the absurd airs and graces of his former servant. As it was, breathless with wrath, his eyes flashing, and his face in a crimson glow, he rushed upon the object of his just resentment, and, seizing him by the collar, exclaimed in a voice of suppressed passion,—

“You—you confounded scoundrel! you rascally thief! So I’ve caught you at last. I’ll make very short work withyou, you ungrateful villain.”

Then he paused for a moment, and shaking him violently, added,—

“What have you to say for yourself, why I shouldn’t hand you over at once to the police?”

Nothing could be more whimsically striking than the contrast between Juniper Graves’ grand and jaunty bearing a moment before, and his present utter crawling abjectness. He became white with terror, and looked the very picture of impotent cowardice. But this was but for a minute; then his self-possession returned to him. He felt that, if his master gave him over immediately in charge to the police, everything was lost; but if he could only get a hearing for a few minutes, before any further step was taken, he was persuaded that he could manage to stem the torrent that was bearing against him, especially as, fortunately for him, Frank Oldfield and himself were alone. His first object, therefore, was to gain time.

“Oh, Mr Frank, Mr Frank!” he cried beseechingly, “spare me—spare me—you don’t know all—you’re labouring under a great misapplication; if you only knew all, you’d think very indifferently of me.”

“That’s just what I do now,” said the other, smiling in spite of himself. Juniper saw the smile. He was satisfied that his case was not hopeless.

“Pray, Mr Frank,” he said humbly and softly, “pray do take your hand off my coat; there’s no need, sir—I shan’t try to escape, sir—I’ll follow you as impressively as a lamb—only give me time, and I’ll explain all.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Frank; “do you mean to tell me that you’ll explain back my fifty pounds into my pocket again?”

“Yes, sir, and more besides, if you’ll only be patient and hear me. Thank you, sir. If you’ll just step in here, sir, I hope to be able to explain all to your satisfaction.”

They entered a little office connected with a weighing-machine, which happened to be vacant at the time.

“Now, mind,” said Frank Oldfield, when they were shut in alone, “I’ll have a straightforward statement, without any prevarication, or I give you over at once into custody. If you can’t clear yourself, and I don’t see how you possibly can, there’s the jail before you, the only place you’re fit for.”

“I’m quite aware, sir, that appearances are against me,” said the other meekly; “but, Mr Frank, you’ll not refuse to listen to your old servant, that’s devoted himself so faithfully to you and yours in England, and came across the seas just because he couldn’t abide to be separated from you any longer.”

“Come, sir,” said Frank Oldfield sternly; “I’m not to be talked over in this way. You weren’t so very anxious to avoid separation when you left me on a sick-bed, and made off with my fifty pounds. Come, sir, give me your explanation, as you call it, at once, and without any nonsense about your faithfulness to me and mine, or I shall put the prison-door between you and me, and that’ll be a separation you’ll not get over so easily.”

“But you haven’t heard me, sir; you haven’t heard all. You don’t know what I have to say in attenuation of my offence.”

“I mayn’t have heard all, Juniper, but I’ve both heard and seen about you a great deal more than I like; so let me warn you again, I must have a plain, straightforward statement. What have you done with my money, and how can you justify your abandoning me in my illness?”

“Ah! Mr Frank, you little know me—you little know what’s in my heart. You little know how every pulse reverberates with deepest affection. But I’ll go to the point, sir, at once;” for Frank began to exhibit signs of impatience. “When I saw you was getting ill, sir, and not able to care for yourself, I says to myself, ‘I must ride off for a doctor. But what’ll my poor master do while I’m gone? he’s no power to help himself, and if any stranger should come in—and who knows it mightn’t be one of these bushrangers!—he’d be sure to take advantage of him and steal his money while he lay helpless.’ So says I to myself again, ‘I think I’ll risk it. I know it’ll look awkward,’—but there’s nothing like a good conscience, when you know you haven’t meant to do wrong. ‘I’ll just take the money with me, and keep it safe for him till I get back.’ Nay, please, Mr Frank, hear me out. Well, I took the fifty pounds, I don’t deny it; it may have been an error in judgment, but we’re all of us infallible beings. I rode off to find a doctor, but no doctor could I find; but I met a young bushman, who said he’d get some one to look after you till I could return.”

“And why didn’t you return; and how came you to want two horses to fetch the doctor with?” asked Frank impatiently.

“Ah! dear sir, don’t be severe with me till you know all. I took both the horses for the same reason that I took the money. I was afraid a stranger might come while I was away, perhaps a bushranger, and the very first thing he’d have laid his hands on would have been the horse.”

“Well; and why didn’t you come back?”

“I did try, sir, to come back, but I missed my road, and made many fruitful efforts to regain my lost track. At last, after I’d tried, and tried, and tried again, I gave up in despair, and I should have perished in the scowling wilderness if I hadn’t met with a party going to the diggings. Then the thought crossed my mind, ‘I’ll go and dig for gold; if I succeed, I’ll show my dear master that I’m no slave to Mammoth, but I’ll lay down my spoils at his feet; and if I fail, I cannot help it.’ Well, sir, I went and dug with a good will. I prospered. I came back to look for my dear master, but I could not find him—he was evacuated. At last I heard that you were going to England, Mr Frank, and I said to myself; ‘I’ll go too. I’ll pay my own passage. I’ll be the dear young master’s devoted servant, and he shall see by my unwearied intentions that I never really could have meant to do him wrong.’”

“And do you really think me such a fool as to believe all this?” asked Frank contemptuously.

“Yes, sir; I do hope you will, sir,” was the reply of Juniper. “There, sir,” he added, “I’ll give you the best proof that I’m not the rogue you took me for. Please, sir, to read what’s on that packet, and then open it.”

Frank took from his hands a heavy parcel, on which was clearly written, “F Oldfield, Esquire; from Juniper Graves.” He opened it. It contained six ten-pound notes and a leather bag full of nuggets.

“There, sir,” said Juniper, triumphantly, “you can tell that this is no got-up thing. I’ve had no time to write these words on the paper since you collared me. I’ve carried it about just as it is for weeks, as you may plainly see by looking at the cover of it, till I could give it into your own hands.”

It was clear, certainly, that the paper had been folded and directed some considerable time back, as was manifest from the marks of wear and rubbing which it exhibited. Frank was staggered.

“Really, Juniper,” he said, “I don’t know what to think, I can’t deny that this packet has been made up for me before our present meeting, and it has all the appearance of having been some considerable time just as it now is. It certainly looks as if you didn’t mean to rob me, as you’ve paid me, I should think, nearly double what you took. Of course, I don’t want that. I shall not take more than my fifty pounds.”

“Oh, sir, do take the rest, as some amends for the anxiety I’ve caused you by my foolish act, in taking charge of your money in the way I did without your knowledge or permission. It was wrong, and I oughtn’t to have done it; but I meant it for the best. And oh, dear master, do think the best of me. I never did mean to harm you; and I’m ready to go with you now from the Pole to the Antipathies.”

“No, Juniper, I shall only take my own,” said his master; and he restored him one of the ten-pound notes and the nuggets, which Juniper accepted with apparent reluctance.

“So far,” said Frank Oldfield, “let bygones be bygones. I trust that you’ll not make any more such awkward mistakes.”

“You’re satisfied then, sir?” asked Graves.

“Yes, so far as my money is concerned. But there’s a graver charge against you still. Jacob Poole has informed me, and asserts it most positively, that you stole into his tent at the diggings and tried to murder him.”

“Well, did I ever!” exclaimed Juniper, holding up both his hands in amazement. “I really think, sir, that young man can’t be quite right in his head.Metry to murder him! why, I’ve never set eyes on him since the day he spoke so impertinently to me at the cottage.Memurder him! what can the poor, silly young man be thinking of. It’s all his fancy, sir; merely congestion of the brain, sir, I assure you; nothing but congestion of the brain.”

“It may be so,” replied Frank; “but here he comes himself; let us hear what he has to say on the subject.”

They both stepped out into the open air as Jacob Poole came up.

Poor Jacob, had he seen the “father of lies” himself walking with his master, he could hardly have been more astounded. He rubbed his eyes, and stared hard again at Frank and his companion, to assure himself that he was not mistaken or dreaming. No; there could be no doubt of it. Frank Oldfield was there, and Juniper Graves was as clearly there; and it was equally plain that there was more of confidence than of distrust in his master’s manner towards the robber and intended murderer. What could it all mean?

“Come here, Jacob,” said Frank. “I see you look rather aghast, and I don’t wonder; but perhaps you may find that Juniper Graves here is not quite so black as we have thought him. He acknowledges that he took my fifty pounds, but he says he never meant to keep it; and that he missed his way in looking for a doctor, and afterwards joined a party at the diggings.”

“Well, Mayster Frank?” said Jacob, with a look of strong incredulity.

“Ah, I see you don’t believe it, and I own it don’t sound very likely; but then, you see, he has given me a proof of his wish not to wrong me; for—look here, Jacob—he has returned me my fifty pounds, and wanted me to take another ten pounds, and some nuggets besides, his own hard earnings at the diggings; only, of course, I wouldn’t have them.”

“Indeed, mayster,” replied Jacob, with a dry cough of disbelief; and glancing at Juniper, who had assumed, and was endeavouring to keep up on his cunning countenance, an appearance of injured virtue.

“Yes, indeed, Jacob,” said his master; “and we mustn’t be too hard upon him. He did wrong, no doubt, and he has made the best amends he could. If he had been a thorough rogue, he never would have cared to seek me out and return me my money with large interest. And, what’s more, he’s coming over to England in the same ship with us; not as my servant, but paying his own passage, just for the sake of being near me. That doesn’t look like a thoroughly guilty conscience.”

“Coming home in the same vessel with us!” cried Jacob, in utter astonishment and dismay. “Coming home in the same vessel!”

“Yes, Mr Poole,” said Juniper, stepping forward, and speaking with an air of loftiness and injured innocence; “and, pray, why not coming home in the same vessel? What haveyouto say against it, I should like to know? Am I to askyourleave in what ship I shall cross the brawny deep? Have you a conclusive right to the company of our master?—for he is mine as well as yours till he himself banishes me irresolutely from his presence.”

“You shall not sail in the same vessel with us, if I can hinder it, as sure as my name’s Jacob Poole,” said the other.

“And howcanyou hinder it, Mr Poole, I should like you to tell me? I ask nobody’s favour. I’ve paid my passage-money. I suppose my brass, as you wulgarly call it, is as good as any other man’s.”

“Well,” said Jacob, “I’ll just tell you what it is. You’ll have to clear up another matter afore you can start for England. You’ll have to tell the magistrate how it was as you crept into my tent at the diggings, and tried to stick your knife into me. What do you say to that, Mr Juniper Graves?”

Just the very slightest tremor passed through Juniper’s limbs, and the faintest tinge of paleness came over his countenance at this question, but he was himself again in a moment.

“Really,” he exclaimed, “it’s enough to throw a man off his balance, and deprive him of his jurisprudence, to have such shocking charges brought against him. But I should like, sir, to ask this Mr Poole a question or two, as he’s so ready to accuse me of all sorts of crimes; he don’t suppose that I’m going to take him for judge, jury, and witnesses, without having a little shifting of the evidence.”

“Well, of course, it’s only fair that you should ask him for proof;” said Frank.

“Come, then, Mr Poole,” said Juniper, in a fierce swaggering tone, “just tell me how you canprovethat I ever tried to murder you? Pooh! it’s easy enough to talk about tents; and knives, and such things, but how can you prove it that I ever tried to murder you? a likely thing, indeed.”

“Prove it!” exclaimed Jacob, evidently a little at fault.

“Yes, prove it. Do you think I’m going to have my character sworn away on such unsubstantial hallucinations? Tell me, first, what time of the day did it happen?”

“It didn’t happen in the day at all, as you know well enough.”

“Was it dark?”

“Yes.”

“Could you see who it was as tried to murder you, as you say?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know it was me?”

“I hit the scoundrel with my spade,” said Jacob, indignantly, “and made him sing out, and I knowed it were your voice; I should have knowed it among a thousand.”

“And that’s all your proof,” said the other, sneeringly. “You knowed my voice.”

“Ay,” replied Jacob; “and I left my mark on you too. There’s a scar on your hand. I haven’t a doubt that’s it.”

“Can you prove it?” asked the other, triumphantly. “A scar, indeed! Do you think scars are such uncommon things with men as works hard at the diggings, that you can swear to one scar? A precious likely story!”

“Ah, but I saw you myself.”

“When?”

“At two of the preachings.”

“Preachings! and what then? I didn’t try and murder you at the preachings, did I? But are you sure it was me, after all, as you saw at the preachings?”

“Quite.”

“How was I dressed? Was the person you took for me just the same as me? Had he the same coloured hair—smooth face, like me?”

“I’ll tell you plain truth,” said Jacob, warmly; “it were you. I’m as sure as I’m here it were you; but you’d blacked your sandy hair, and growed a beard on your lip.”

“Well, I never!” cried the other, in a heat of virtuous indignation. “Here’s a man as wants to make out I tried to murder him; but when I asks him to prove it, all he says is, he couldn’t see me do it, that he heard my voice, that I’ve got a scar on my hand, that he saw me twice at some preachings, but it wasn’t me neither; it wasn’t my hair, it wasn’t my beard, and yet he’s sure it was me. Here’s pretty sort of evidence to swear away a man’s life on. Why, I wonder, young man, you ain’t ashamed to look me in the face after such a string of tergiversations.”

“I think, Jacob,” said his master, “you’d better say no more about it. It’s plain you’ve no legal proof against Juniper; you may be mistaken, after all. Let us take the charitable side, and forget what’s past. There, shake hands; and as we’re to be all fellow-voyagers, let us all be friends.”

But Jacob drew back.

“No, mayster; I’ll not grip the hand of any man, if my heart cannot go with it. Time’ll show. By your leave, I’ll go and get the dog-cart ready; for I suppose you’ll be going back to Adelaide directly?”

His master nodding assent, Jacob went to fetch the vehicle, and on his return found his master in earnest conversation with Juniper.

“Good-bye, then, Juniper, till we meet next Thursday on board theSabrina,” he cried.

“Good-bye, sir; and many thanks for your kindness.”

Jacob, of course, uttered no word of farewell; but just looking round for an instant, he saw Juniper’s eyes fixed on him with such a look of deadly, savage hatred, as assured him—though he needed no such assurance—that his intended murderer was really there.

“I think, Jacob, you’re rather hard on Juniper,” said his master, as they drove along. “He has done wrong; but I am persuaded he has still a strong attachment to me, and I really cannot think he can have been the person who tried to murder you. Why should you think it, Jacob? He’s never done you any harm before.”

“Mr Frank, you must excuse me; but I’m sure I’m not mistaken. He’s always hated me ever since the day I spoke out my mind to you at the cottage. Take my word for it, Mr Frank, he’s no love for you; he only wants to make a tool of you, just to serve his own purposes.”

“Nay, nay, Jacob, my good fellow; not so fast. He cannot be so utterly selfish, or he never would have offered me the extra ten-pound note and the nuggets, over and above the fifty pounds, if he hadn’t really a love for me, and a true sorrow for what he has done wrong.”

“I cannot see that,” was the reply. “Of course, he knowed he was likely to meet you when he came to Adelaide; and he was pretty sure what’d happen if you gave him in charge to the police. He knowed well enough they wouldn’t listen to his tale; so, just to keep clear of the prison, he gave you the money, and made up his story just to save hisself. He knowed fast enough as you’d never take more nor your fifty pounds.”

“Ah, but Jacob,” said his master, “you’re wrong there. He had made up the parcel, nuggets and all, and directed it to me long before he saw me. Don’t that show that he intended it all for me, whether he met me or no?”

“Not a bit of it, Mr Frank,” replied Jacob, bluntly. “He knowed precious well how to play his game. I’ll be bound there’s summat wrong about his getting this gold; I’ll ne’er believe he dug it up hisself. I shouldn’t wonder if he hasn’t robbed some poor chap as has worked hard for it; and now he wants to get out of the colony as fast as he can afore he’s found out. And, in course, he’s been carrying this brass lapped up a long time, just in case you should light on him at any time, and he might seem to have a proper tale to tell. But you may be right sure, Mr Frank, as you’d ne’er have seen a penny of it if he could only have got clear out of the colony without coming across yourself.”

“You’re not very charitable, Jacob, I think,” said his master; “but it may be as you say. And yet, why should he be so anxious to go out in the same ship with me? If he wanted to keep his money to himself; why didn’t he keep close till theSabrinawas gone, and then sail by the next vessel?”

“Perhaps he did mean it, Mr Frank, only you happened to light on him.”

“No, that cannot be, for he says he has paid for his own passage.”

“Then, if that’s a true tale,” said the other, “I’ll be bound he’s not done it with any good meaning for you or me. I shall keep both my eyes well open, or he’ll be too much for me. And as for you, Mr Frank, oh, don’t listen to him, or he’ll hook all your brass as he’s given you out of your pocket again, or he’ll lead you back to the drink if he can.”

Frank coloured, and looked troubled, and turned the conversation to another subject.

At last the day of sailing came. TheSabrina, taken in tow by a steam-tug, soon made her way to Holdfast Bay, where she was to lie at anchor till Saturday morning. Hubert and his uncle accompanied Frank Oldfield thus far, and then returned in the steam-tug. Before they parted, Hubert had a long conversation with his friend in his cabin. His last words were of Mary, and Frank’s one special temptation; and they separated with a fervent grasp, and eyes brimming with tears. Yet in neither of their hearts was there hope. Hubert felt that his friend had not satisfied him that he really meant utterly and for ever to renounce strong drink; and Frank felt that he had withheld any positive promise so to abstain, because he knew that the deep-rooted purpose of his heart was to resume the indulgence which would be his ruin, body and soul.

And where was Juniper? No one saw him on deck; and yet assuredly he was on board the vessel, for Jacob had seen him come up the side.

Saturday morning, and a fine favourable wind. Up comes the anchor—theSabrinabends to the breeze—away they go! Kangaroo Island is reached and passed. Then emerges Juniper Graves from his cabin between decks, and smiles as he looks around him. All is safe now.

TheSabrinahad been gone ten days, when a weary, downcast-looking man entered Mr Abraham Oliphant’s office.

“Your name ain’t Oliphant, is it?” he asked, doggedly.

“Yes, it is,” said Hubert, whom he was addressing.

The man got up, and stared steadily at him for a minute.

“It ain’t him!” he muttered to himself.

Hubert was inclined at first to be amused; but there was something in the man’s manner that checked his merriment.

“You want my uncle, perhaps,” he said.

Mr Abraham Oliphant came at his nephew’s summons. The man, who had all the appearance of a returned digger, shook his head.

“You’veneither on you been to the diggings, I reckon?”

“No; we have neither of us been,” said the merchant.

“Are there any of your name as has been?” asked the other.

“None; I can answer for it,” was the reply. “My sons have none of them been; and we, with my nephew here, are all the Oliphants in this colony. No Oliphant has been to the diggings from South Australia.”

The man sighed deeply.

“Can you make anything out o’ that?” he asked, handing a piece of soiled paper to Mr Oliphant. “I can’t read myself, but you can read it.”

The merchant took the piece of paper and examined it. It had once been part of an envelope, but had been torn and rolled up to light a pipe, and one end, where it had been used, was burned. The words left on it were all incomplete, except the names “Oliphant” and “Australia.” What was left was as follows:—

yes,Oliphant,delaide,th Australia.

yes,Oliphant,delaide,th Australia.

Both uncle and nephew scrutinised it attentively. At last Hubert said,—

“I can tell now who this belonged to.”

“Who?” cried the man, eagerly.

“Why, to one Juniper Graves, a servant of Mr Frank Oldfield’s. He chose to take upon himself to have his letters from England directed to the care of my uncle, and this is one of the envelopes.”

“And where is he? Can you tell me where I can find him?” cried the digger, in great excitement.

“I’m afraid you’ll not find him at all, my friend,” replied the merchant, “for he left the colony in theSabrinafor England ten days ago.”

The effect of this announcement on the poor man was tremendous. He uttered a violent imprecation, stamped furiously on the ground, while he ground his teeth together. Then he sat down, and covered his face with his hands in mute despair.

“I fear there has been some foul play,” said Mr Oliphant to his nephew.

“Foul play!” cried the unfortunate digger, starting up furiously. “I’ll tell you what it is. Yon rascal’s been and robbed me of all as I got by my hard labour; and now he’s got clean off. But I’ll follow him, and have the law of him, if I work my passage home for it.”

“I’ve always had a suspicion that the fellow had not come honestly by his gains,” said Hubert.

“And why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you have him taken up on suspicion?” exclaimed the other bitterly.

“I had no grounds for doing so,” replied Hubert. “He might have come honestly by his money for anything I knew to the contrary. There was nothing to show that he had not been successful, as many other diggers have been.”

“Successful!” cried the poor man. “Ay, he’s been successful in making a precious fool of me.”

“Tell us how it happened,” said Mr Oliphant.

“Why, you see, gentlemen, my mates and me had done very well; and they was for going to Melbourne with what they’d got, but I was for stopping to get a little more. Well, I was all alone, and a little fidgetty like for fear of getting robbed, when one evening I sees a sandy-haired chap near my tent as didn’t look much used to hard work; so I has a bit o’ talk with him. He seemed a greenish sort of piece, and I thought as p’raps I might just make use of him, and keep him for company’s sake. So he and I agreed to be mates; he was to do the lighter work, and I was to do the hard digging, and keep the biggest share of what we got. So we chummed together; and he seemed a mighty pleasant sort of a cove for a bit. He was always a-talking, and had his mouth full o’ big words. I never said nothing about what I’d got afore, and he never seemed to care to ask me. But it were all his deepness. One night he pulls out a pack of cards, and says, ‘Let’s have a game. Only for love,’ says he, when he saw me look a little shyly at him. ‘I’m not a gambler,’ says he; ‘I never plays for money.’ So we has a game and a pipe together, and he pulls out a little flask of spirits, and we got very cheerful. But I was careful not to take too much that night. However, the rum set my tongue loose, and I let out something about having more gold than he knowed of. I was mighty vexed, however, next day, when I remembered what I’d said. But he never said a word about it, but looked werry innocent. A few nights arterwards we gets drinking and smoking again. Then he took a little too much himself. I knowed it, because next day he was axing me if I’d see’d anything of an envelope as he’d lost. I told him ‘no;’ but the real fact was, he’d twisted it up to light his pipe with, and I’d picked up the bit as he threw away, and put it in my pocket. I didn’t think anything about it then; but next day, when he made a great fuss about it, and the day after too, I said to myself; ‘I’ll keep the bit of paper; maybe summat’ll turn up from it one of these days.’ So I took it out of my pocket when he were not by, and stowed it away where I knew he couldn’t find it. But I shall weary you, gentlemen, with my long story. Well, the long and short of it was just this. He managed to keep the spirit-bottle full, and got me jolly well drunk one night; and then I’ve no doubt I told him all he wanted to know about my gold, for I know no more nor the man in the moon what I said to him. I asked him next day what I’d been talking about; and he said I was very close, and wouldn’t let out anything. Well, it seems there was a strong party leaving the diggings a day or so arter; but it was kept very snug. Jemmy Thomson—that was what my new mate called himself to me—had managed to hear of it, and got leave to join ’em. So, the night afore they went, he gets me into a regular talk about the old country, and tells me all sorts of queer stories, and keeps filling my pannikin with grog till I was so beastly drunk that I knew nothing of what had happened till it was late the next morning. Then I found he was off. He’d taken every nugget I’d got, and some bank-notes too, as I’d stowed away in a safe place. The party had started afore daybreak; and nobody knowed which way they’d gone, for they’d got off very secret. I was like one mad, you may be sure, when I discovered what he’d been and done. I took the bit of paper with me, and managed somehow to get to Melbourne. I tried to find him out; some only laughed at me. I went to the police; they couldn’t do nothing for me—some on ’em told me it served me right for getting drunk. Then I went to a minister; and he was very kind, and made all sorts of inquiries for me. He said he’d reason to believe as Jemmy Thomson—as the rascal called himself—was not in Melbourne. And then he looked at my paper. ‘Call on me to-morrow,’ says he. And so I did. Then he says, ‘There’s no Oliphant here as I can find out; but there’s a Mr Abraham Oliphant, a merchant, in Adelaide. This letter’s been to him; you’d better see him.’ So I’ve come here overland with a party; and now I must try my hand at summat or starve, for I shall never see my money nor the villain as stole it no more.”

Mr Oliphant was truly sorry for the unfortunate man, and bade him take heart, promising to find him employment if he was willing to stick to his work and be sober. The man was thankful for the offer, and worked for a few weeks, but he was still all athirst for the gold, and, as soon as he could purchase the necessary tools, set out again for the diggings, with an earnest caution from Mr Oliphant to keep from the drink if he would not suffer a repetition of his loss and misery.

And thus it was that Juniper Graves had acquired his ill-gotten wealth. Having ascertained that a party was returning to South Australia, he joined himself to them, and got safe off with his stolen gold. As Jacob Poole had surmised, he had made up the packet of notes with the nuggets, that, should he happen to fall in with his master, he might be able to pacify him, and so prepare the way for regaining his favour and his own hold upon him. He felt quite sure, from what he knew of Frank Oldfield’s generous character, that he never would take more than the fifty pounds, and he was aware that unless he made unhesitating restitution of that sum, he was in danger of losing all, and of being thrown into prison. And now he was anxious to leave the colony as soon as possible, that he might put the sea between himself and the man he had robbed; and, having ascertained that Frank Oldfield and Jacob Poole were returning to England in theSabrina, he took his passage in the same vessel, partly with the view of getting his young master once more into his power, and partly in the hope of finding an opportunity of wreaking his vengeance on Jacob Poole. Therefore he was determined to leave no stone unturned to regain his influence over Frank, for his object was to use him for his own purposes both during and after the voyage. To this end his first great aim would be to cause, if possible, an estrangement between Jacob and his master. He also hoped to do his rival—as he considered Jacob—some injury of a serious kind, without exposing himself to detection. So far he had succeeded. All had prospered to his utmost wishes; and, as the shores of Kangaroo Island faded from the view of the voyagers, he hugged himself in secret and said,—

“Bravo, Juniper!—bravo! You’ve managed it to a T. Ah, Mr Jacob Poole! I’ll make your master’s cabin too hot to hold you afore any of us is a month older.”

Chapter Twenty.A Man Overboard.And now we bid farewell to Australia, and follow theSabrinain her homeward voyage. It was soon evident that there was no love lost between Captain Merryweather and Juniper Graves, nor between that cunning gentleman and honest, straightforward Jacob. With Frank, however, it was different. Jacob soon found that his place was often taken by Juniper, and that himself was gradually losing his old place in his master’s confidence and good graces: Frank would also frequently spend a long time in Juniper’s cabin between decks, from which he returned in a state of great hilarity.“Jacob,” said the captain to him one day, “I can’t quite make it out. I thought your master was an abstainer.”Jacob shook his head.“I thought so too, captain; but I’ve found myself grievously mistaken. He’s no mind to give up the drink, you may be sure. He’s only teetotal when he cannot get it.”“I’m pretty sure,” said the other, “that he takes it now. That fellow Juniper Graves is no fit companion for him.”“Ah, captain, that man’s been his ruin in Australia; and he’ll be his ruin when he gets back to the old country, if he doesn’t shake him off. But I fear he’ll ne’er do that. The old lad hasna a fitter tool in all the world nor yon chap. He’ll not stick at anything. He’s tried robbery and murder, and he’ll not be over nice about squeezing all he can out of the poor young mayster.”Jacob then related to Captain Merryweather all he knew of Juniper Graves’ proceedings, and both he and the captain agreed together to watch him, and do their utmost to keep poor Frank out of his clutches.“I don’t care so much about myself,” said Jacob; “though I’m quite sure he’d knock me overboard any day, if he’d the chance of doing it without being seen, for he hates me worse nor poison. But I’m grieved to the heart to see him winding hisself round Mayster Frank, who’s so kind and so warm-hearted and so free. I cannot forget how he risked his life to save mine when we was coming out, as you know, captain; and I’d give my own life for him now, if I could only get him clear of yon cunning rascal as is leading him blindfold to hell.”“I’ve no doubt,” said the other, “that this man has brought spirits on board, and that he and Mr Oldfield drink in his cabin together.”“Yes,” replied Jacob; “and you may be quite sure as he’ll hook all the brass out of the young mayster afore the voyage is over.”It was just as Jacob and the captain surmised. Juniper Graves had brought a good stock of brandy and rum on board with him, and took care that Frank Oldfield should pay handsomely for what he was willing, after much solicitation, to part with. Let us look in upon them, as they sit together by Juniper’s berth. The time is midnight. Frank has stolen in while the captain has been sleeping, for he fears being seen going there by the honest sailor. There is a curtain hung up before the door to hide the light. A small candle lamp hung on gymbals is fixed to the woodwork, and throws a scanty gleam on the two figures which are engaged in earnest play. Yet how different are these two, spite of their companionship in evil! Frank, still beautiful in the refined cast of features, out of which intemperance has not yet been able to sear the traces of gentle blood and early culture; bright too and graceful in the masses of rich chestnut hair which adorn a forehead high and noble, yet now, alas! often crossed by lines of weary, premature care. Juniper, a compound of cat, fox, monkey, wolf—every feature of his contemptible face instinct with the greediest, most self-satisfied cunning. How could two such, so widely different in natural character, be yet so agreed? Alas! what will not the love of the drink, the slavery of the drink, the tyranny of the drink accomplish? Each holds his cards characteristically. Frank so carelessly that his adversary can see them; Juniper grasping and shading his with jealous vigilance, lest a single glimpse of them should be visible to his opponent. A large spirit-flask stands under the berth close by Juniper’s hand, and a glass is within the reach of each. They play on, for a while, in silence. Frank’s money is clearly slipping through his fingers, though he is allowed now and then to win, especially when he gets at all restive or suspicious.“There, Juniper,” says Frank at last, and in no steady voice, “I declare you’ll clean me out before long. I do believe you’ve come on board for the sake of squeezing me dry, as Jacob says.”“As Jacob says!” cries the other, with affected indignation and astonishment. “I wish, sir, that conceited young puppy had never set foot on this vessel. What does he know of the sort of aversions as are suited to a gentleman of your birth and retrospects?”“Juniper,” replies the other, “I think the ‘aversions,’ as you call them, belong to you and not to me, if I may judge by your aversion for poor Jacob; and as for ‘retrospects,’ I think the less I say about them the better.”“Well, sir, I don’t know,” replies Juniper, huffily; “you may amuse yourself; sir, with my humble efforts at a superior style of soliloquy; but I’m sure you’re doing me injustice, and allowing yourself to be bamboozled, if you let yourself be talked over by that canting hypocrite.”“Steady—steady, my boy!” cries Frank; “you’re half-seas over, Juniper, or you could not say so. Come, hand us the brandy. We’ll let Jacob alone, and drink his health, and the health of all good lads and lasses.”“As you please, sir,” says Juniper, sulkily.The next morning, when Frank Oldfield appeared on deck, his face and whole appearance bore the unmistakable marks of last night’s excess. His very breath also told the same miserable tale. As for Juniper, though he had drunk more cautiously, yet he did not show himself outside his cabin till the afternoon. The captain had his eye upon him, and could not help remarking to himself what a look of deadly malice and venomous baseness pervaded every feature of the villain’s face.“He’s up to some mischief more than common, I’ll be bound,” he said to himself. “I’ll keep a sharp look-out for you, my friend.”A short time after, and Juniper had disappeared, nor did he emerge from his retreat till the evening. He was then in high spirits, laughing and chatting with the sailors, and every now and then glancing up at Jacob, who was walking up and down the poop with Captain Merryweather. At last, just as Jacob was descending to the main-deck, and had his foot on the topmost step of the ladder, the vessel lying over under a breeze on the quarter, Juniper suddenly sprang up the steps in a state of great excitement, shouting out, “A whale!—a whale!” Every one but the captain turned suddenly round in the direction to which Juniper was pointing, Jacob among the number, so that he hung partly over the water.“Where?” cried several voices.“There!” he exclaimed, suddenly stumbling with his whole might against Jacob, so as very nearly to hurl him into the sea. Indeed, had not the captain, who was on the watch, sprung forward and caught hold of him, he must have inevitably gone overboard.“You scoundrel!” shouted the captain, seizing Juniper by the collar, and sending him spinning down the ladder on to the deck below, where he lay half stunned for a few moments.“I’m up to your tricks, my man,” he added, as Juniper limped off to his cabin, vowing vengeance.“What’s amiss, captain?” asked Frank, in great astonishment. “What’s poor Juniper been doing? No great harm in fancying he saw a whale, even supposing he was mistaken.”“Mr Oldfield,” said the captain, sorrowfully, “you don’t know that fellow. If ever there was a serpent in a human body, there’s one in that man of yours. Bear with me, my dear sir, if I offer you an earnest word or two of caution. I can see that you are not the man you were when we crossed the seas together before. We had a very happy voyage then, and you remember how strong and settled you were on the subject of total abstinence. Is it so now? Ah! don’t let that wretched fellow take all that’s good and noble out of you. He don’t care a straw for you nor for any one but himself; I’m quite certain. He has mischief in his eye, and there’s a black heart under that smooth tongue—if I know anything of what a rogue’s like, and I’ve boarded many that have been sailing under false colours in my day. You must excuse my speaking so warmly and plainly, Mr Oldfield; but I really cannot bear to see you running on to the reefs without giving you a word of warning.”“Thank you—thank you, captain,” said Frank. “I know you mean kindly, but I still think you’re hard upon Juniper. I believe he’s a faithful fellow, with all his faults; and he isn’t without them, I’ll allow. But he’s sincerely attached to me, I believe, and that makes up for a good deal.”“Attached to you, Mr Oldfield! don’t think it! He’s only making a tool of you—he’ll just get all he can out of you, and then he’ll scuttle you, and leave you to sink.”“I can’t think it, I cannot indeed,” was Frank’s reply; “there’s an old proverb about giving a dog a bad name. He’s no friend of yours, I know, nor of Jacob Poole’s either, and I’m sorry for it.”“And is he really acting a friend’s part by you, Mr Oldfield?” asked the other. Frank coloured, and evaded the question.“At any rate, Jacob has no real cause to be at such daggers-drawn with him,” he said.“Do you think not? Are you aware that he was trying to knock Jacob overboard only a few minutes ago, and that he attempted his life at the diggings?”“Oh, captain, it’s all fancy; you’re mistaken, both of you. I’m sure you’re mistaken. Juniper’s not the sort of fellow—he hasn’t it in him—he hasn’t the pluck to commit murder, even if he had the will to do it.”“Ah, Mr Oldfield,” cried the captain, “I say again, beware of him; you don’t know him; if you’d seen the spite in his eye that I’ve seen you wouldn’t talk so. He has malice enough in him to take away life, if he felt sure he could do it without detection and punishment. And is he not, at this very moment, stealing away from you the life of body and soul? Don’t be offended, pray, Mr Oldfield; but I say again, I can’t bear to see you drifting on to the rocks, and not lend a helping hand to keep you off.”“I’m not offended, my kind friend,” said Frank sorrowfully; “you tell the truth, I fear, when you say I’m drifting on to the rocks; and yet I don’t mean to go on as I’m doing now, I assure you—when I touch land again I’m going to turn over a new leaf altogether, and paste it down over the old ones, so that I shall make quite a fresh start.”“And do you think,” asked the other, “that this fellow will let you keep your good resolutions, even if you had the wish to do so?”“Oh yes,” replied Frank, carelessly; “I’ve told Master Juniper that his reign will only last on board ship; I’m to be master, and we’re both to say ‘good-bye’ to the drink when once we set foot on shore, and he’s quite agreeable.”“Of course he is,” said the captain; “he’ll be willing to promise anything for the future, if you’ll only let him keep his hold on you now. Well, sir, I’ve warned you, and I hope you may lay it to heart.”“I will, my good friend; indeed I will,” was the reply. That evening Frank kept himself out of Juniper’s reach, much to the disgust and annoyance of that gentleman, who began to dread lest he had over-reached himself; and set his old master against him. It was not so, however. Juniper had become necessary to Frank, and a day or two found them as fast friends as ever.And now theSabrinahad accomplished half her homeward course, and many a heart on board rejoiced in the hope of a speedy and prosperous completion of the voyage.It was a chilly and boisterous afternoon, the clouds were hurrying in leaden-coloured layers along the sky, the sea was all in a foam, and patches of whitish upper clouds, beneath which the lower drift was scudding, threw a lurid light over the wide expanse of ocean. The wind, which had hitherto been favourable, now veered, and obliged them to tack. The captain, at this juncture, was on the poop, with Frank Oldfield by him.“I haven’t seen Mr Juniper Graves to-day,” said the former.“To tell you the truth,” answered Frank, “he and I have been having a few words together.”“I’m not sorry for it,” remarked the captain drily; “nothing serious, however, I hope.”“Nothing very, perhaps; but the matter’s simply this: I’ve been fool enough to play cards with him for rather high stakes lately, and I fancy that I’ve detected my man peeping over my cards, and using a little sleight of hand in his shuffling too.”“I’ll be bound he has,” remarked the other.“If he’d been a poor man,” added Frank, “I could have excused it; but the fellow’s got a whole fortune in nuggets and notes stowed about him. He’s a sort of walking ‘Crocus,’ as he told me once, when he wasn’t over sober,—meaning ‘Croesus,’ of course.”“And so you’ve given him a little of your mind, I suppose.”“Yes; and it’s wounded my gentleman’s dignity considerably; so there he is below, hugging his gold, and comforting himself in his own way, which isn’t much in your line or Jacob’s, captain, and I wish it wasn’t in mine.”“In other words,” said Captain Merryweather, “he’s pretty nearly drunk by this time.”“You’re somewhere about right,” was the reply. Immediately after this short dialogue the captain proceeded to give the orders for tacking in a stentorian voice, as the wind was high.“Ready, ho! ready!” he cried. All were standing ready at their posts. Then the word was given to the man at the wheel.“Helm’s a-lee!” roared the captain. There was rattling of chains, flapping of canvas, and shuffling of feet.“Mainsail h–a–u–aul!” bellowed the captain in a prolonged shout. Round went the great sail under the swift and strong pulls of willing hands.“Let go, and h–a–u–aul!” once more roared out the captain in a voice of thunder.It was just at this moment, when all was apparent confusion, when ropes were rattling, feet stamping, sails quivering, that Juniper Graves emerged from his cabin on to the main-deck, his head bare, and his sandy hair flying out wildly into the breeze. His eyes were strained and bloodshot, and his whole appearance was that of a person in an agony of terror. Aroused from his drunken sleep by the noise overhead, and terrified to find the vessel heeling over to the other side, he imagined, in his drunken bewilderment, that the ship had struck, and that himself and his gold were in danger of perishing with her. Filled with frenzy at this idea, he rushed out upon deck, where the general apparent confusion confirmed his fears; then he sprung upon the bulwarks, gazed around him in utter dismay at the crew in busy motion about him, tottered on his insecure standing-ground, caught at a rope to save himself; missed it, and then, with a terrible shriek of horror and despair, fell headlong overboard into the boiling waters.“Save him! oh, save him!” cried Frank Oldfield imploringly. “Where is he? Let me go, let me go,” he screamed, for he was about to plunge overboard, and the captain was holding him back with his powerful grasp.“It’s no use, Mr Oldfield; it’ll only be two lives instead of one.”“Oh, yes, yes,” besought Frank; “put the ship about—lie-to—throw over a hen-coop, a life-buoy, for mercy’s sake—the poor wretch isn’t fit to die,” and he still struggled to free himself.“Listen to reason, sir,” said the captain. “We can do nothing; the ship’s running nine knots, and no one knows where to look for him; nothing can save him, miserable man; he’s sunk no doubt, at once, and all the faster for having his gold about him.”“Can nothing be done?” cried Frank, beseechingly.“Nothing, I assure you,” replied the other; “there’s not a trace of him to be seen, is there, Mr Walters?” The first mate shook his head. “We’re far enough off now from the spot where he fell in. It’s in mercy to you, sir, that he’s been taken away.”Frank sank upon a seat, and buried his face in his hands, sobbing bitterly.Yes; the tempter was gone, gone to his account—suddenly cut off in the midst of his sins, hurried away in righteous retribution by the very death himself had planned for Jacob Poole. Yes; the tempter was gone, and the tempted still remained. Would he take home to his heart the lesson and warning God had thus sent him? The tempter was gone, but, alas! the temptation was not gone. Frank had even now in his cabin several flasks of that drink which had already borne such miserable fruits for himself and the guilty wretch just hurried into the presence of his offended God. He had bought the spirits from Juniper at an exorbitant price, but would he use them now, after what had happened? The night after Juniper’s awful death he sat in his cabin weeping. Thoughts of home, of mother, father, Mary, crowded in upon his heart. The days that once were, when he would have joined with real willingness and hearty earnestness the band of abstainers, as he sat in all boyish sincerity at Mr Bernard Oliphant’s table, eager to make the trial and bear the cross, were fresh upon his memory now. And all the bitter past, with its shameful, degrading, sinful records, gathered its thick shadows round his soul. What should he do? He sank upon his knees and prayed—prayed to be forgiven, prayed that he might do better—and then he rose, and was in part comforted. And now, what should he do with the spirits which were still in his possession? He took them out and ranged the flasks on his berth. His scuttle stood open. One minute and he could have thrown them all into the sea. Conscience said, “Do it, and do it at once.” But another voice whispered, “Pity to waste so much good stuff; drink these out, but only a moderate quantity at a time, and then you can renounce the drink for ever.” He listened to the second voice, and conscience sighed itself to sleep.Alas! alas! what fiend like the fiend of drink? It can steal away every good resolution, drown the voice of conscience, and make a man cheat himself into the belief that the indulgence of to-day is a warrant and guarantee for the abstinence of to-morrow. Frank was satisfied; he felt sure that it would be wiser to wean himself gradually from his drinking habits; he would use the strictest moderation with his present little stock, and then he should more readily forsake it altogether when this was gone. And so he continued to drink, but more and more sparingly, as he himself supposed, because he was really training himself to a gradual surrender of the drink, but in reality because he dreaded to be left altogether without it. And so the taste was kept up during the remainder of the voyage, and Frank Oldfield landed on the shores of his native country with the thirst strong upon him.

And now we bid farewell to Australia, and follow theSabrinain her homeward voyage. It was soon evident that there was no love lost between Captain Merryweather and Juniper Graves, nor between that cunning gentleman and honest, straightforward Jacob. With Frank, however, it was different. Jacob soon found that his place was often taken by Juniper, and that himself was gradually losing his old place in his master’s confidence and good graces: Frank would also frequently spend a long time in Juniper’s cabin between decks, from which he returned in a state of great hilarity.

“Jacob,” said the captain to him one day, “I can’t quite make it out. I thought your master was an abstainer.”

Jacob shook his head.

“I thought so too, captain; but I’ve found myself grievously mistaken. He’s no mind to give up the drink, you may be sure. He’s only teetotal when he cannot get it.”

“I’m pretty sure,” said the other, “that he takes it now. That fellow Juniper Graves is no fit companion for him.”

“Ah, captain, that man’s been his ruin in Australia; and he’ll be his ruin when he gets back to the old country, if he doesn’t shake him off. But I fear he’ll ne’er do that. The old lad hasna a fitter tool in all the world nor yon chap. He’ll not stick at anything. He’s tried robbery and murder, and he’ll not be over nice about squeezing all he can out of the poor young mayster.”

Jacob then related to Captain Merryweather all he knew of Juniper Graves’ proceedings, and both he and the captain agreed together to watch him, and do their utmost to keep poor Frank out of his clutches.

“I don’t care so much about myself,” said Jacob; “though I’m quite sure he’d knock me overboard any day, if he’d the chance of doing it without being seen, for he hates me worse nor poison. But I’m grieved to the heart to see him winding hisself round Mayster Frank, who’s so kind and so warm-hearted and so free. I cannot forget how he risked his life to save mine when we was coming out, as you know, captain; and I’d give my own life for him now, if I could only get him clear of yon cunning rascal as is leading him blindfold to hell.”

“I’ve no doubt,” said the other, “that this man has brought spirits on board, and that he and Mr Oldfield drink in his cabin together.”

“Yes,” replied Jacob; “and you may be quite sure as he’ll hook all the brass out of the young mayster afore the voyage is over.”

It was just as Jacob and the captain surmised. Juniper Graves had brought a good stock of brandy and rum on board with him, and took care that Frank Oldfield should pay handsomely for what he was willing, after much solicitation, to part with. Let us look in upon them, as they sit together by Juniper’s berth. The time is midnight. Frank has stolen in while the captain has been sleeping, for he fears being seen going there by the honest sailor. There is a curtain hung up before the door to hide the light. A small candle lamp hung on gymbals is fixed to the woodwork, and throws a scanty gleam on the two figures which are engaged in earnest play. Yet how different are these two, spite of their companionship in evil! Frank, still beautiful in the refined cast of features, out of which intemperance has not yet been able to sear the traces of gentle blood and early culture; bright too and graceful in the masses of rich chestnut hair which adorn a forehead high and noble, yet now, alas! often crossed by lines of weary, premature care. Juniper, a compound of cat, fox, monkey, wolf—every feature of his contemptible face instinct with the greediest, most self-satisfied cunning. How could two such, so widely different in natural character, be yet so agreed? Alas! what will not the love of the drink, the slavery of the drink, the tyranny of the drink accomplish? Each holds his cards characteristically. Frank so carelessly that his adversary can see them; Juniper grasping and shading his with jealous vigilance, lest a single glimpse of them should be visible to his opponent. A large spirit-flask stands under the berth close by Juniper’s hand, and a glass is within the reach of each. They play on, for a while, in silence. Frank’s money is clearly slipping through his fingers, though he is allowed now and then to win, especially when he gets at all restive or suspicious.

“There, Juniper,” says Frank at last, and in no steady voice, “I declare you’ll clean me out before long. I do believe you’ve come on board for the sake of squeezing me dry, as Jacob says.”

“As Jacob says!” cries the other, with affected indignation and astonishment. “I wish, sir, that conceited young puppy had never set foot on this vessel. What does he know of the sort of aversions as are suited to a gentleman of your birth and retrospects?”

“Juniper,” replies the other, “I think the ‘aversions,’ as you call them, belong to you and not to me, if I may judge by your aversion for poor Jacob; and as for ‘retrospects,’ I think the less I say about them the better.”

“Well, sir, I don’t know,” replies Juniper, huffily; “you may amuse yourself; sir, with my humble efforts at a superior style of soliloquy; but I’m sure you’re doing me injustice, and allowing yourself to be bamboozled, if you let yourself be talked over by that canting hypocrite.”

“Steady—steady, my boy!” cries Frank; “you’re half-seas over, Juniper, or you could not say so. Come, hand us the brandy. We’ll let Jacob alone, and drink his health, and the health of all good lads and lasses.”

“As you please, sir,” says Juniper, sulkily.

The next morning, when Frank Oldfield appeared on deck, his face and whole appearance bore the unmistakable marks of last night’s excess. His very breath also told the same miserable tale. As for Juniper, though he had drunk more cautiously, yet he did not show himself outside his cabin till the afternoon. The captain had his eye upon him, and could not help remarking to himself what a look of deadly malice and venomous baseness pervaded every feature of the villain’s face.

“He’s up to some mischief more than common, I’ll be bound,” he said to himself. “I’ll keep a sharp look-out for you, my friend.”

A short time after, and Juniper had disappeared, nor did he emerge from his retreat till the evening. He was then in high spirits, laughing and chatting with the sailors, and every now and then glancing up at Jacob, who was walking up and down the poop with Captain Merryweather. At last, just as Jacob was descending to the main-deck, and had his foot on the topmost step of the ladder, the vessel lying over under a breeze on the quarter, Juniper suddenly sprang up the steps in a state of great excitement, shouting out, “A whale!—a whale!” Every one but the captain turned suddenly round in the direction to which Juniper was pointing, Jacob among the number, so that he hung partly over the water.

“Where?” cried several voices.

“There!” he exclaimed, suddenly stumbling with his whole might against Jacob, so as very nearly to hurl him into the sea. Indeed, had not the captain, who was on the watch, sprung forward and caught hold of him, he must have inevitably gone overboard.

“You scoundrel!” shouted the captain, seizing Juniper by the collar, and sending him spinning down the ladder on to the deck below, where he lay half stunned for a few moments.

“I’m up to your tricks, my man,” he added, as Juniper limped off to his cabin, vowing vengeance.

“What’s amiss, captain?” asked Frank, in great astonishment. “What’s poor Juniper been doing? No great harm in fancying he saw a whale, even supposing he was mistaken.”

“Mr Oldfield,” said the captain, sorrowfully, “you don’t know that fellow. If ever there was a serpent in a human body, there’s one in that man of yours. Bear with me, my dear sir, if I offer you an earnest word or two of caution. I can see that you are not the man you were when we crossed the seas together before. We had a very happy voyage then, and you remember how strong and settled you were on the subject of total abstinence. Is it so now? Ah! don’t let that wretched fellow take all that’s good and noble out of you. He don’t care a straw for you nor for any one but himself; I’m quite certain. He has mischief in his eye, and there’s a black heart under that smooth tongue—if I know anything of what a rogue’s like, and I’ve boarded many that have been sailing under false colours in my day. You must excuse my speaking so warmly and plainly, Mr Oldfield; but I really cannot bear to see you running on to the reefs without giving you a word of warning.”

“Thank you—thank you, captain,” said Frank. “I know you mean kindly, but I still think you’re hard upon Juniper. I believe he’s a faithful fellow, with all his faults; and he isn’t without them, I’ll allow. But he’s sincerely attached to me, I believe, and that makes up for a good deal.”

“Attached to you, Mr Oldfield! don’t think it! He’s only making a tool of you—he’ll just get all he can out of you, and then he’ll scuttle you, and leave you to sink.”

“I can’t think it, I cannot indeed,” was Frank’s reply; “there’s an old proverb about giving a dog a bad name. He’s no friend of yours, I know, nor of Jacob Poole’s either, and I’m sorry for it.”

“And is he really acting a friend’s part by you, Mr Oldfield?” asked the other. Frank coloured, and evaded the question.

“At any rate, Jacob has no real cause to be at such daggers-drawn with him,” he said.

“Do you think not? Are you aware that he was trying to knock Jacob overboard only a few minutes ago, and that he attempted his life at the diggings?”

“Oh, captain, it’s all fancy; you’re mistaken, both of you. I’m sure you’re mistaken. Juniper’s not the sort of fellow—he hasn’t it in him—he hasn’t the pluck to commit murder, even if he had the will to do it.”

“Ah, Mr Oldfield,” cried the captain, “I say again, beware of him; you don’t know him; if you’d seen the spite in his eye that I’ve seen you wouldn’t talk so. He has malice enough in him to take away life, if he felt sure he could do it without detection and punishment. And is he not, at this very moment, stealing away from you the life of body and soul? Don’t be offended, pray, Mr Oldfield; but I say again, I can’t bear to see you drifting on to the rocks, and not lend a helping hand to keep you off.”

“I’m not offended, my kind friend,” said Frank sorrowfully; “you tell the truth, I fear, when you say I’m drifting on to the rocks; and yet I don’t mean to go on as I’m doing now, I assure you—when I touch land again I’m going to turn over a new leaf altogether, and paste it down over the old ones, so that I shall make quite a fresh start.”

“And do you think,” asked the other, “that this fellow will let you keep your good resolutions, even if you had the wish to do so?”

“Oh yes,” replied Frank, carelessly; “I’ve told Master Juniper that his reign will only last on board ship; I’m to be master, and we’re both to say ‘good-bye’ to the drink when once we set foot on shore, and he’s quite agreeable.”

“Of course he is,” said the captain; “he’ll be willing to promise anything for the future, if you’ll only let him keep his hold on you now. Well, sir, I’ve warned you, and I hope you may lay it to heart.”

“I will, my good friend; indeed I will,” was the reply. That evening Frank kept himself out of Juniper’s reach, much to the disgust and annoyance of that gentleman, who began to dread lest he had over-reached himself; and set his old master against him. It was not so, however. Juniper had become necessary to Frank, and a day or two found them as fast friends as ever.

And now theSabrinahad accomplished half her homeward course, and many a heart on board rejoiced in the hope of a speedy and prosperous completion of the voyage.

It was a chilly and boisterous afternoon, the clouds were hurrying in leaden-coloured layers along the sky, the sea was all in a foam, and patches of whitish upper clouds, beneath which the lower drift was scudding, threw a lurid light over the wide expanse of ocean. The wind, which had hitherto been favourable, now veered, and obliged them to tack. The captain, at this juncture, was on the poop, with Frank Oldfield by him.

“I haven’t seen Mr Juniper Graves to-day,” said the former.

“To tell you the truth,” answered Frank, “he and I have been having a few words together.”

“I’m not sorry for it,” remarked the captain drily; “nothing serious, however, I hope.”

“Nothing very, perhaps; but the matter’s simply this: I’ve been fool enough to play cards with him for rather high stakes lately, and I fancy that I’ve detected my man peeping over my cards, and using a little sleight of hand in his shuffling too.”

“I’ll be bound he has,” remarked the other.

“If he’d been a poor man,” added Frank, “I could have excused it; but the fellow’s got a whole fortune in nuggets and notes stowed about him. He’s a sort of walking ‘Crocus,’ as he told me once, when he wasn’t over sober,—meaning ‘Croesus,’ of course.”

“And so you’ve given him a little of your mind, I suppose.”

“Yes; and it’s wounded my gentleman’s dignity considerably; so there he is below, hugging his gold, and comforting himself in his own way, which isn’t much in your line or Jacob’s, captain, and I wish it wasn’t in mine.”

“In other words,” said Captain Merryweather, “he’s pretty nearly drunk by this time.”

“You’re somewhere about right,” was the reply. Immediately after this short dialogue the captain proceeded to give the orders for tacking in a stentorian voice, as the wind was high.

“Ready, ho! ready!” he cried. All were standing ready at their posts. Then the word was given to the man at the wheel.

“Helm’s a-lee!” roared the captain. There was rattling of chains, flapping of canvas, and shuffling of feet.

“Mainsail h–a–u–aul!” bellowed the captain in a prolonged shout. Round went the great sail under the swift and strong pulls of willing hands.

“Let go, and h–a–u–aul!” once more roared out the captain in a voice of thunder.

It was just at this moment, when all was apparent confusion, when ropes were rattling, feet stamping, sails quivering, that Juniper Graves emerged from his cabin on to the main-deck, his head bare, and his sandy hair flying out wildly into the breeze. His eyes were strained and bloodshot, and his whole appearance was that of a person in an agony of terror. Aroused from his drunken sleep by the noise overhead, and terrified to find the vessel heeling over to the other side, he imagined, in his drunken bewilderment, that the ship had struck, and that himself and his gold were in danger of perishing with her. Filled with frenzy at this idea, he rushed out upon deck, where the general apparent confusion confirmed his fears; then he sprung upon the bulwarks, gazed around him in utter dismay at the crew in busy motion about him, tottered on his insecure standing-ground, caught at a rope to save himself; missed it, and then, with a terrible shriek of horror and despair, fell headlong overboard into the boiling waters.

“Save him! oh, save him!” cried Frank Oldfield imploringly. “Where is he? Let me go, let me go,” he screamed, for he was about to plunge overboard, and the captain was holding him back with his powerful grasp.

“It’s no use, Mr Oldfield; it’ll only be two lives instead of one.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” besought Frank; “put the ship about—lie-to—throw over a hen-coop, a life-buoy, for mercy’s sake—the poor wretch isn’t fit to die,” and he still struggled to free himself.

“Listen to reason, sir,” said the captain. “We can do nothing; the ship’s running nine knots, and no one knows where to look for him; nothing can save him, miserable man; he’s sunk no doubt, at once, and all the faster for having his gold about him.”

“Can nothing be done?” cried Frank, beseechingly.

“Nothing, I assure you,” replied the other; “there’s not a trace of him to be seen, is there, Mr Walters?” The first mate shook his head. “We’re far enough off now from the spot where he fell in. It’s in mercy to you, sir, that he’s been taken away.”

Frank sank upon a seat, and buried his face in his hands, sobbing bitterly.

Yes; the tempter was gone, gone to his account—suddenly cut off in the midst of his sins, hurried away in righteous retribution by the very death himself had planned for Jacob Poole. Yes; the tempter was gone, and the tempted still remained. Would he take home to his heart the lesson and warning God had thus sent him? The tempter was gone, but, alas! the temptation was not gone. Frank had even now in his cabin several flasks of that drink which had already borne such miserable fruits for himself and the guilty wretch just hurried into the presence of his offended God. He had bought the spirits from Juniper at an exorbitant price, but would he use them now, after what had happened? The night after Juniper’s awful death he sat in his cabin weeping. Thoughts of home, of mother, father, Mary, crowded in upon his heart. The days that once were, when he would have joined with real willingness and hearty earnestness the band of abstainers, as he sat in all boyish sincerity at Mr Bernard Oliphant’s table, eager to make the trial and bear the cross, were fresh upon his memory now. And all the bitter past, with its shameful, degrading, sinful records, gathered its thick shadows round his soul. What should he do? He sank upon his knees and prayed—prayed to be forgiven, prayed that he might do better—and then he rose, and was in part comforted. And now, what should he do with the spirits which were still in his possession? He took them out and ranged the flasks on his berth. His scuttle stood open. One minute and he could have thrown them all into the sea. Conscience said, “Do it, and do it at once.” But another voice whispered, “Pity to waste so much good stuff; drink these out, but only a moderate quantity at a time, and then you can renounce the drink for ever.” He listened to the second voice, and conscience sighed itself to sleep.

Alas! alas! what fiend like the fiend of drink? It can steal away every good resolution, drown the voice of conscience, and make a man cheat himself into the belief that the indulgence of to-day is a warrant and guarantee for the abstinence of to-morrow. Frank was satisfied; he felt sure that it would be wiser to wean himself gradually from his drinking habits; he would use the strictest moderation with his present little stock, and then he should more readily forsake it altogether when this was gone. And so he continued to drink, but more and more sparingly, as he himself supposed, because he was really training himself to a gradual surrender of the drink, but in reality because he dreaded to be left altogether without it. And so the taste was kept up during the remainder of the voyage, and Frank Oldfield landed on the shores of his native country with the thirst strong upon him.

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