Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 125

"I wish we were fairly rid of him," said Mrs. Harkaway, "for all the while he is on board, I feel as if some misfortune were hanging over us."

Jack smiled.

"Have you had any dreams, Emily?" he asked, slily,

"Don't learn to mock, sir," retorted the lady, with mock asperity, "You have been influenced by dreams yourself before now."

Jack looked serious.

"That's true."

"And we owe this wretched man nothing--"

"But hate."

"We do that," said Jefferson; "but he is a miserable wretch, and we can afford to let him off cheaply, without paying old scores."

"What do you wish to do, then?" demanded Harkaway. "I am willing to abide by the decision you may come to."

"Well," said Mr. Mole, "I propose that he shall be put ash.o.r.e."

"When?"

There was the rub.

They were many weary miles away from the sight of land.

"Put him ash.o.r.e the first time that we come within reach of land,"

suggested Harvey.

"We will," said Harkaway, "if that is the general wish."

"It is."

It was put to the vote and found that everybody, without a single exception, was desirous of seeing the back of Hunston.

Who can wonder?

None.

"Well, well," said old Jack, "that is agreed upon. And now, Emily, my dear, I hope that your mind is at rest."

"Almost."

"What! doesn't that satisfy you yet?"

"For the present; but I shall be all the more satisfied when he is really out of the place altogether, for he is a regular nightmare to me."

"You are fanciful, my dear," said old Jack.

"Perhaps; but there have been times when you have not made so light of my presentiments," said Emily.

As these words were spoken, the saloon door was opened and who should enter but Joe Basalt.

Now old Joe wore a face as long as a fiddle, and addressing Harkaway he requested a few words in private.

"Presently, Joe," said Harkaway.

The old tar twisted his hat round and waited.

"What, won't presently do for you?"

"I'd sooner out with it at once," said Joe.

"Well, out with it," said Harkaway.

"Before everyone, your honour?" Joe demanded.

"Yes."

He looked shyly about him, and cast a furtive glance at the ladies before he ventured to speak out.

"I want to break it to your honour as gently as possible, and I want to know what your honour thinks of me?"

Old Jack stared.

"Why, really, Joe--"

"I think Joe wants to know if you think he's handsome," suggested d.i.c.k Harvey.

"Do you admire the cut of his figurehead?" chimed in young Jack.

But Joe Basalt was evidently too much upset and preoccupied by something on his mind to heed this chaff.

"No, your honour," he said, fiercely, "what I want to know is--do you consider me a d--d mutineering swab?"

"Joe, Joe," exclaimed Harkaway, laughing in spite of himself, "moderate your language; remember that there are ladies present."

Joe reddened to the roots of his hair.

"I ax their pardon, every mother's son of them," he said, tugging at his forelock; "but my feelin's carries me away."

"Tell us what it is, then," said Jefferson, "and perhaps we can offer advice."

"Well, then, sir, I've been insulted."

"I see, I see," said Jefferson; "you have been having a row with one of your messmates."