CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
BUMPUS IS PERPLEXED--MYSTERIOUS COMMUNINGS AND A CURIOUS LEAVE-TAKING.
"It's a puzzler," said Jo Bumpus to himself--for Jo was much in thehabit of conversing with himself; and a very good habit it is, one thatis often attended with much profit to the individual, when theconversation is held upon right topics and in a proper spirit--"it's apuzzler, it is; that's a fact."
Having relieved his mind of this observation, the seaman proceeded tocut down some tobacco, and looked remarkably grave and solemn as if "it"were not only a puzzler but an alarmingly serious puzzler.
"Yes, it's the biggest puzzler as ever I comed across," said he, fillinghis pipe--for John, when not roused, got on both mentally and physicallyby slow stages.
"Niver know'd its equal," he continued, beginning to smoke, whichoperation, as the pipe did not "draw" well at first, prevented him fromsaying anything more.
It was early morning when Bumpus said all this, and the mariner wasenjoying his morning pipe in a reclining attitude on the grass beneathAlice Mason's favourite tree, from which commanding position he gazedapprovingly on the magnificent prospect of land and sea which lay beforehim, bathed in the light of the rising sun.
"It _is_ wery koorious," continued John, taking his pipe out of hismouth and addressing himself to _it_ with much gravity--"_wery_koorious. Things _always_ seems wot they isn't, and turns out to be wotthey didn't appear as if they wasn't; werry odd indeed, it is! Only tothink that this here sandal-wood trader should turn out for to beHenry's father and the widow's mother--no, I mean the widow's husband,--an' a pirate, an' a deliverer o' little boys and gals out o' pirates'hands--his own hands, so to speak--not to mention captings in the RoyalNavy, an' not sich a bad feller after all, as won't have his liberty onno account wotiver, even if it was gived to him for nothin', and yet wotcan't git it if he wanted it iver so much; and to think that Jo Bumpusshould come for to lend hisself to--Hallo! Jo, back yer tops'ls!Didn't Henry tell ye that ye wasn't to convarse upon that there lastmatter even with yerself, for fear o' bein' overheard and sp'ilin' thewhole affair? Come, I'll refresh myself."
The refreshment in which Jo proposed to indulge was of a peculiar kindwhich never failed him--it was the perusal of Susan's love-letter.
He now sat up, drew forth the precious and much soiled epistle, unfoldedand spread it out carefully on his knees, placed his pipe very much onone side of his mouth, in order that the smoke might not interfere withhis vision, and began to read.
"`_Peeler's Farm_,' ah! Susan darlin', it's Jo Bumpus as would give allhe has in the world, includin' his Sunday clo'se, to be anchoredalongside o' ye at that same farm! `_Sanfransko_.' I misdoubt thespellin' o' that word, Susan dear; it seems to me raither short, as ifye'd docked off its tail. Howsomever--`_For John bumpuss_'--O Susan,Susan! if ye'd only remember the big B, and there ain't two esses. I'msure it's not for want o' tellin' ye, but ye was never great in the wayov memry or spellin'. Pr'aps it's as well. Ye'd ha' bin too perfect,an' that's not desirable, by no means--`_my darlin' Jo_'--ay, _them's_the words. It's that as sets my 'art a b'ilin'-over like."
Here Jo raised his eyes from the letter and revelled silently in thethought for at least two minutes, during which his pipe did double dutyin half its usual time. Then he recurred to his theme, but some partshe read in silence, and without audible comment.
"Ay," said he, "`_sandle-wood skooners, the Haf ov thems pirits_'--sothey is, Susan. It's yer powers o' prophecy as amazes me--`_an' Theother hafs no beter_'--a deal wus, Susan, if ye only know'd it. Ah! mysweet gal, if ye knew wot a grief that word `_beter_' wos to me before Idiskivered wot it wos, ye'd try to improve yer hand o' write, an' makefewer blots!"
At this point Jo was arrested by the sound of footsteps behind him. Hefolded up his letter precipitately, thrust it into his leftbreast-pocket, and jumped up with a guilty air about him.
"Why, Bumpus, we have startled you out of a morning nap, I fear," saidHenry Stuart, who, accompanied by his mother, came up at that moment."We are on our way to say good-bye to Mr Mason. As we passed thisknoll I caught sight of you and came up to ask about the boat."
"It's all right," said Bumpus, who quickly recovered his composure--indeed he had never lost much of it. "I've bin down to Saunder's storeand got the ropes for your--"
"Hush! man, there is no need of telling me what they are for," saidHenry, with a mysterious look at his mother.
"Why not tell me all, Henry?" said Mrs Stuart; "surely you can trustme?"
"Trust you, mother?" replied the youth with a smile, "I should think so;but there are reasons for my not telling you everything just now.Surely you can trust _me_? I have told you as much as I think advisablein the meantime. Ere long I will tell you all."
The widow sighed and was fain to rest content. She sat down beside thetree while her companions talked together apart in low tones.
"Now Jo, my man," continued Henry, "_one_ of our friends must be got outof the way."
"Wery good; I'm the man as'll do it."
"Of course I don't mean that he's to be killed!"
"In coorse not. Who is he?"
"Ole Thorwald."
"Wot! the descendant o' the Sea Kings, as he calls himself?"
"The same," said Henry, laughing at the look of surprise with whichBumpus received this information.
"What has _he_ bin an' done?"
"He has done nothing as yet," said Henry; "but he will, certainly thwartour schemes if he hears of them. He has an inveterate ill-will to mypoor father;" (Henry lowered his voice as he proceeded,) "and I know hassuspicions that we are concocting some plan to enable him to escape, andwatches us accordingly. I find him constantly hanging about the jail.Alas! if he knew how thoroughly determined Gascoyne is to refusedeliverance unless it comes from the proper source, he would keep hismind more at ease."
"Don't you think if you wos to tell him that Gascoyne _is_ yer father hewould side with us?" suggested Bumpus.
"Perhaps he would. I _think_ he would; but I dare not risk it. Theeasier method will be to outwit him."
"Not an easy thing for to do, I'm afraid, for he's a cute old feller.How's it to be done?" asked Bumpus.
"By telling him the truth," said Henry; "and _you_ must tell it to him."
"Well, that _is_ a koorious way," said Bumpus with a broad grin.
"But not the whole truth," continued Henry. "You must just tell him asmuch as it is good for him to know, and nothing more; and as the thingmust be done at once, I'll tell you what you have got to say."
Here the young man explained to the attentive Bumpus the course that hewas to follow, and having got him thoroughly to understand his part, hesent him away to execute it.
Meanwhile he and his mother went in search of Mr Mason, who at the timewas holding a consultation with the chiefs of the native village, nearthe site of his burnt cottage. The consultation had just been concludedwhen they reached the spot, and the missionary was conversing with thenative carpenter who superintended the erection of his new home.
After the morning greeting, and a few words of general conversation,Mrs Stuart said--
"We have come to have a talk with you in private; will you walk toAlice's tree with us?"
"Certainly, my friend; I hope no new evils are about to befall us," saidthe missionary, who was startled by the serious countenances of themother and son, for he was ignorant of the close relation in which theystood to Gascoyne, as, indeed, was every one else in the settlement,excepting Montague and his boatswain, and Corrie, all of whom wereenjoined to maintain the strictest secrecy on the point.
"No, I thank God, all is well," replied Mrs Stuart; "but we have cometo say that we are going away."
"Going away!" echoed the missionary in surprise. "When?--where to?--why? You amaze me, Mary."
"Henry will explain."
"The fact is, Mr Mason," said Henry, "circumstances require my absencefrom Sandy Cove on a longer trip than usual, and I mean to take my
mother with me. Indeed, to be plain with you, I do not think it likelythat we shall return for a long time--perhaps not at all, and it isabsolutely necessary that we should go secretly. But we could not gowithout saying good-bye to you."
"We owe much to you, dear Mr Mason," cried the widow, grasping themissionary's hand and kissing it. "We can never, never forget you; andwill always pray for God's best blessings to descend on you and yours."
"This is overwhelming news!" exclaimed Mr Mason, who had stood hithertogazing from the one to the other in mute astonishment. "But tell me,Mary," (here he spoke in earnest tones,) "is not Gascoyne at the bottomof this?"
"Mr Mason," said Henry, "we never did, and never will deceive you.There is a good reason for neither asking nor answering questions onthis subject _just now_. I am sure you know us too well to believe thatwe think of doing what is wrong, and you can trust us--at least mymother--that we will not do what is foolish."
"I have perfect confidence in your hearts, my dear friends," replied MrMason; "but you will forgive me if I express some doubt as to yourability to judge between right and wrong when your feelings are deeplymoved, as they evidently are from some cause or other, just now. Canyou not put confidence in me? I can keep a secret, and may perhaps givegood counsel."
"No, no," said Henry, emphatically; "it will not do to involve you inour affairs. It would not be right in us _just now_ to confide even inyou. I cannot explain why--you must accept the simple assurance in themeantime. Wherever we go, we can communicate by letter, and I promise,ere long, to reveal all."
"Well, I will not press you farther, but I will commend you in prayer toGod. I do not like to part thus hurriedly, however. Can we not meetagain before you go?"
"We shall be in the cottage at four this afternoon, and will be veryglad if you will come to us for a short time," said the widow.
"That is settled, then; I will go and explain to the natives that Icannot accompany them to the village till to-morrow. When do youleave?"
"To-night."
"So soon! Surely it is not. But I forbear to say more on a subjectwhich is forbidden. God bless you, my friends; we shall meet at four.Good-bye!"
The missionary turned from them with a sad countenance, and went insearch of the native chiefs; while Henry and his mother separated fromeach other, the former taking the path that led to the little quay ofSandy Cove, the latter that which conducted to her own cottage.
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