The White Squall. John C. Hutcheson

we were nearing Mount Pleasant I could not help asking dad what Captain Miles had meant by that question he had asked him about taking me for a voyage.

      I had been dying to know what the remark referred to ever since I had overheard it, but waited, thinking that dad would tell me of his own accord; so now, as he didn’t speak, I had to brave the ordeal of the inquiry.

      “He wanted to take you home to England to school, Tom,” replied dad briefly in an absent sort of way, as if his thoughts were amongst the fireflies.

      “Really?” said I hesitatingly—“and—”

      “And, I have not quite made up my mind in the matter yet, Tom. Besides which, there’s your mother to be consulted,” interposed dad, answering my second question before I could put it.

      “And if mother does not mind, you will let me go, then, in the Josephine with Captain Miles, eh, dad?” I asked anxiously.

      “I didn’t say so, did I?” said dad quizzingly.

      “But you meant it, dad, you meant it, I know,” cried I exultantly. “Hurrah, I am so glad! I am so glad!”

Chapter Five.

       Table of Contents

      Good-bye to Grenada!

      “Are you really so glad to leave us all?” said dad somewhat reproachfully, as I could judge from his tone of voice; for, although the stars and fireflies illumined the landscape sufficiently for us to see our way, the light was too dim for me to observe the expression of his face.

      “Oh no, dad, not that,” I cried out almost with a sob at such an insinuation. “You know, you said I was to go to England this year to school; and, if I must, why I would rather sail in Captain Miles’ vessel than any other.”

      “All right, Tom, I did not think you quite so heartless as your exclamation implied,” replied dad, still speaking in a sad tone; “but it’s only the way of the world, my boy. Young birds are always anxious to leave the parent nest, and you are no exception, I suppose, to the rule.”

      I did not make any answer to this. I could not speak, for my heart was too full.

      Presently we arrived at the entrance to Mount Pleasant, when Jake rushed forward and opened the gate leading into the grounds, and we proceeded up the carriage drive towards the house in silence, the moon, which was just rising over the tops of the mountains beyond, lighting up the garden on the terrace in front and making it look like a dream of fairyland. The flowers and foliage shone out in relief as if tipped with silver against the dark background of the house; while the cool evening breeze was scented with the fragrance of the frangipanni and jessamine, now smelling more strongly than in the daytime, in addition to which I could distinguish the lusciously sweet perfume of the night-blooming cereus, a plant that only unfolds its luscious petals after sunset.

      The whole scene lives in my memory now!

      “Say, Mass’ Tom,” whispered Jake to me as he took hold of Prince’s bridle on my dismounting to lead him away to the stables along with Dandy. “I’se heard what you ’peak jus’ now to Mass’ Eastman. Um railly goin’ leabe de plantashun for true, hey?”

      “Yes,” said I. “I am to go to England in the Josephine, that big ship we saw to-day, if my mother consents.”

      “Den, I go too!” replied Jake impressively.

      “Nonsense!” cried I, laughing at this determination of his. “Captain Miles won’t take you.”

      “Won’t him, dough—me ’peak to him byme-by, an’ you see den!”

      “You can speak if you like,” I replied in an off-hand way as he went away with the horses; while I ascended the terrace steps and proceeded into the house to hear what mother had to say on the subject of my going away.

      I found, however, when I got in, that dad had already told the news; and it came out presently that the matter had really all been arranged beforehand.

      My father, I heard now, had received an offer to sell his plantation, as my mother told me, but my illness had prevented him from closing with it; and so the opportunity had slipped. Consequently, as he would still have to remain at Mount Pleasant for possibly an indefinite time, he had made up his mind to adhere to his original plan and send me home to school without further delay. He and my mother had settled to arrange a passage for me with their old friend Captain Miles even before we started on our ride to Grenville Bay, dad and the captain having seen each other in the town and spoken about the matter previously, fixing the very day of our visit, as the substantial luncheon we had on board showed.

      Now, therefore, that my inclinations chimed in with dad’s views and arrangements, the thing was finally settled; and it may be imagined what a state of mind my mother and sisters were in about my going. They hugged and kissed me as if I were going to start that very minute!

      Dad said that the Josephine would complete loading her cargo at Grenville Bay in about a week or ten days. She would then call round at Saint George’s for orders, and I should have to go on board at a moment’s notice, as she might sail almost immediately.

      The next few days were all hurry and bustle, everybody being busy in preparing my traps—my mother and sisters seeing to my outfit, and the negro servants, with all of whom I was a great favourite, contributing all sorts of little presents, some of the most unwieldy and useless character, which they thought would either add to my comfort during the voyage or were absolutely necessary for “de young massa agwine to England!”

      But, at last, all my belongings, useful and useless alike, were packed up; and one fine morning in August—I remember well, it was the day after my birthday—a regular procession set out from Mount Pleasant, consisting of my mother and dad and my sisters, not omitting myself, the hero of the occasion.

      We were all mounted on horseback; for no wheeled vehicle could overcome the engineering difficulties of the mountain road, rugged as it was and intersected by wild gullies and little brawling streamlets at intervals, the latter sometimes only bridged by a narrow plank, as I have mentioned before.

      To a stranger, our cavalcade would have presented quite an imposing appearance, as behind the mounted portion of the procession came a string of negroes, headed by old Pompey, carrying the three large trunks and odd boxes containing my paraphernalia, those whose services were not absolutely required to carry anything volunteering to go with the rest in order to see me off.

      I had been so excited all along with the idea of going to school, which I was looking forward to as something awfully jolly from the description I had read about other boys’ doings in books—for I was utterly ignorant of what English life really was—that up to now I had scarcely given a thought to anything else, never realising the terrible severance of all the dear home ties which my departure would bring about.

      But, when I mounted Prince for the last time, as I suddenly recollected all at once, and gazed round at my old home, which I was probably about to bid good-bye to for ever, my feelings overcame me. At that moment I would gladly have stopped behind, sacrificing even the pleasure I anticipated from my voyage in the Josephine, and all that the future might have in store for me, rather than desert so summarily the scenes of my childhood and all the loved members of the home circle.

      Dad noticed my emotion and he recalled me to myself.

      “Come on, Tom,” he said kindly but firmly, “you must be a man now, my boy! Be brave; for if your poor mother sees you crying she will break down utterly, and I’m sure you would not like that.”

      This speech of his made me stifle my sobs; and, although I couldn’t get out any words to answer him, I swallowed something hard that was sticking in my throat. Then, putting Prince in a canter, I rode up to the side of my mother, who was in front