CHAPTER XVIIFAREWELL TO MELBOURNE
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NO further adventures or dangers befell the party on their way to Melbourne. It was thought possible that Captain Ring, in charge of the main body of the bushrangers, might attempt a rescue of his companions. No such attack took place. It might have been that he feared the issue of the conflict, but it is also possible that he experienced no poignant regret at the capture of Fletcher, who, he well knew, would have been glad to succeed him in command.
At first Fletcher was buoyed up by the hope of a rescue. Then, when that hope faded out, he sought for an opportunity to escape. In one case he would have succeeded but for the vigilance of Obed Stackpole. The latter, awakening suddenly, saw Fletcher, who in some way had got out of his fetters, stealing quietly away. He sprang to his feet and intercepted the fugitive.
“What, Fletcher! you don’t mean to say you are goin’ to leave us without sayin’ good-bye? We can’t spare you, really.”
Fletcher tried to shake himself free from the Yankee’s detaining grasp.
“Let me alone, you scarecrow!” he exclaimed fiercely.
“Thank you for the compliment, Fletcher,” said Obed. “I ain’t so han’some as you are, that’s a fact, but I guess I’m a good deal better.”
As he spoke his grip became stronger, and Fletcher found his efforts to escape absolutely futile.
“I should like to choke you,” he said fiercely.
“I’ve no doubt you would, Fletcher. It would be a nice amusement for you, but I’m not quite ready for the operation just yet. When I am I’ll let you know.”
“But for you, I would have got away,” said Fletcher, in bitter disappointment.
“I guess you would. It’s lucky I opened my eyes in time. There’d have been mournin’ in this camp if you’d got away, Fletcher. You’re wastin’ yourself in the woods. You’re fitted to adorn Melbourne society, and it won’t be my fault if you don’t arrive there.”
At that moment Captain Forbush awoke.
“What’s happened?” he asked anxiously.
“One of our friends was takin’ French leave, that’s all,” said Obed. “I woke just in time to persuade him to stay a little longer.”
“Ha! so Fletcher was trying to escape, was he? I am indebted to you, Mr. Stackpole, for frustrating his plan. We can’t spare him at all events. I would rather lose any two of his companions.”
“You see, Fletcher, how much we value your society,” said Obed. “It was cruel in you to leave us.”
“You’re a fool!” exclaimed Fletcher, darting a look of hate at Obed.
“You never did appreciate me, Fletcher. All I want is your good.”
Fletcher was secured in such a way that escape was no longer possible. In due time he and his comrades reached Melbourne as captives, and were transferred to the civil authorities. It may be well to add here that they were tried, and sentenced to a prolonged term of imprisonment. Colson and Ropesfared a little better, their term being only half as long. They submitted sullenly to their fate, but singularly seemed more embittered against Obed Stackpole than against any of the officers through whose hands they passed. Obed would have fared badly had he fallen unprotected into their hands.
It was a joyful day for our young hero, as well as his two companions, when they saw rising before them the roofs and spires of Melbourne. During the weeks that had elapsed since their departure, they had not only “roughed it,” but they had met with a series of adventures which were pleasanter to remember than to pass through. Twice they had been captives, but each time they had been providentially rescued. Harry felt that God had watched over him, and delivered him from danger and the schemes of wicked men, and his confidence and trust in an Overruling Power were stronger than ever.
It was some days before they secured the money resulting from the disposal of the nugget. When the matter was finally arranged, they found themselves in possession of about four thousand pounds. This included the sum realised from the sale of the mining claim.
“That gives us about one thousand pounds apiece,” said Harry, after a brief calculation.
“I can’t believe it,” said Jack, who really seemed bewildered by his good fortune. “Why, it’s wonderful!”
“So it is, Jack. I dare say you are the richest young sailor of your age in the world.”
“When does the next steamer start, Obed?”
“In four days. Can you be ready in that time?”
“I would get ready to start to-morrow if necessary.”
“So would I. Melbourne is a nice city, but I’d rather be on dad’s farm eatin’ supper in the old kitchen than in the best hotel here.”
“After all, there’s no place like home, Obed.”
“That’s a fact, but perhaps Jack doesn’t feel so.”
“My home isn’t what it was once,” said Jack soberly. “If mother hadn’t married again it would have been different, but I never can like or respect my stepfather.”
“There’s one place you ought to visit before you start for home, Harry,” suggested Obed.
“I mean to see the city pretty thoroughly before I go, as I don’t imagine I shall ever come this way again.”
“That’s all right, but it isn’t what I mean.”
“What then?”
“Do you remember the old gentleman you saved from a ruffian the night before you started for the mines?”
“Mr. Woolson, yes.”
“You ought to call, you and Jack.”
“I’ll go this morning. Will you come too, Jack?”
“I’ll go with you anywhere, Harry,” said the young sailor, whose affection and admiration for Harry were very strong.
About ten o’clock the boys entered the office of Mr. Woolson. It was situated in one of the handsomest blocks in Little Collins Street, and they learned that he was a wholesale merchant and importer.
“Is Mr. Woolson in?” Harry asked of a clerk.
“He is in the inner office. Have you business with him?”
“Yes.”
Admitted into the inner office, the boys saw the old gentleman seated at a large desk with a pile ofpapers and letters before him. They were by no means certain that he would recognise them, but he did so instantly.
“I am glad to see you, my young friends,” he said, rising and shaking hands with them. “I have thought of you often, and of the great service you did me. Have you just returned from the mines?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I hope you have had good luck.”
“Wonderful luck. Jack and I are worth over a thousand pounds apiece.”
“Bless my soul! Why, it only seems a week since you went away.”
“It is nearly three months, and seems longer to us, for we have passed through a great deal.”
“I shall be glad to hear a full account, but I have not time in business hours. Will you dine with me at my house to-night and spend the evening?”
“With pleasure, sir.”
“Then I shall expect you at six o’clock sharp.”
The boys met the engagement, and passed the time most agreeably. Jack felt a little bashful, for Mr. Woolson lived in fine style, and Jack was not used to an elegant house or table.
When the cloth was removed, Mr. Woolson asked the boys their plans.
“We intend to sail for home next Saturday,” said Harry. “That is as far as we have got.”
“If you were willing to stay in Melbourne, I would give you a place in my counting-house.”
“Thank you, sir, but I prefer to return home.”
“Then I will give you a letter to my nephew and business correspondent. He will further any business views you may have.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And I will do the same for your friend, if he desires.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Jack, “but I mean to keep on as a sailor; I hope some day to be a captain.”
“Then I will give you a place on one of our ships, and you shall be promoted as rapidly as you are qualified to rise.”
Jack looked gratified, for he knew the value of so powerful a friend.
Late in the evening the boys took leave of the hospitable merchant, and three days afterward they embarked.
We will now return to America, and for the benefit of those readers who are not familiar with Harry’s early adventures, as narrated in the story of “Facing the World,” I will give a brief account of his story before setting out on the voyage to Australia.
Left an orphan, with a scanty patrimony amounting to three hundred dollars, Harry left it all in the hands of his father’s friend, Mr. Benjamin Howard of Ferguson, and set out, not in quest of a fortune, but of a livelihood. He had been recommended by his father to seek a cousin of his, John Fox of Colebrook, and place himself under his guardianship. He visited Mr. Fox, but found him so mean and grasping that he left him after a brief stay, preparing to face the world without assistance. Mr. Fox, who had two children, Joel and Sally, was greatly disappointed, as he had hoped to get control of the boy’s slender property, and convert it to his own use. He pursued Harry, but was unable to overtake and capture him.
Months passed, and John Fox heard nothing of his wandering relative.
One day, however, he came home triumphant.
“Well, Maria,” he said, addressing his wife, “I’ve heard of Harry Vane.”
“You don’t say!” ejaculated Joel, his face screwed up into an expression of curiosity. “What did you hear? Where is he?”
“Joel,” answered his father, with an attempt at solemnity, “the judgments of the Lord have fallen upon your unhappy cousin.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Fox?” asked his wife, showing curiosity in turn.
“I mean that he is lying dead at the bottom of the sea.”
“Don’t be so tantalising, Mr. Fox. If you know anything about the boy, out with it!”
When Mrs. Fox spoke in this tone her husband knew that she would not stand any nonsense. So he answered without delay. “Soon after he left our happy home, Maria, he shipped on board theNantucket, as a common sailor, I presume, and the ship was lost off in the Southern Ocean with all on board.”
“How awful, pa,” said Sally, who alone of all the family had felt kindly toward Harry, “and he was so good-looking, too!”
“He wasn’t a bit better-looking than Joel,” said her mother sharply.
“Oh, ma!”
“It’s true. I never could see any good looks in him, and it doesn’t become you, miss, to go against your own brother. How did you find it out, Mr. Fox?”
“I came across an old copy of theNew York Herald, giving an account of the disaster, and mentioning Harry Vane as one of the passengers. Of course it’s a mistake, for he must have been one of the common sailors.”
“Well, I reckon there’s no call for us to put on mourning,” said Mrs. Fox.
“I don’t know about that. It might look better.”
“What do we care about Harry Vane?”
“My dear, he left property,” said Mr. Fox significantly. “There’s three hundred dollars in the hands of that man in Ferguson, besides the money he got for saving the train, as much as two hundred dollars. As we are his only relatives, that money ought to come to us by rights.”
“That’s so, husband. On the whole, I’ll put a black ribbon on my bonnet.”
“And I’ll wear a black necktie,” said Joel. “How much of the money am I to have?”
“Wait till we get it,” said his father shortly.
“What steps do you propose to take in this matter, Mr. Fox?” queried his wife.
“I’m going to Ferguson to-morrow to see Mr. Benjamin Howard. Of course he won’t want to give up the money, but I’ll show him I mean business, and am not to be trifled with.”
“That’s right, pa,” said Joel approvingly.
“Five hundred dollars will give us quite a lift,” said Mrs. Fox thoughtfully.
“So it will, so it will, my dear. Of course, I’m sorry to hear of the poor boy’s death, but I shall insist upon my rights, all the same.”
Mrs. Fox warmly approved of her husband’s determination, being quite as mean and money-loving as he.