CHAPTER XLV.
GOOD FOR EVIL—AN UNEXPECTED STROKE OF LUCK FOR HUNSTON.
Harkaway, the noble and generous, and Hunston, the villain from boyhood to manhood, together—face to face!
After all these changes and trials and vicissitudes.
After all these acts of villainy, treachery, and cruelty upon the part of the miserable wretch Hunston. After so many acts of daring upon the part of our dashing hero, Jack Harkaway.
Not a word was spoken for some moments.
This strange encounter literally deprived them of the power of utterance.
It was unexpected to both of them.
Startling—appalling was it to Hunston upon regaining consciousness, to find himself face to face with the man of all others he dreaded and hated most.
Need we say why?
No.
The reader has not, of course, forgotten that Hunston was ignorant of the two boys' preservation. Little did he dream that those two destined victims had, by little less than a miracle, escaped his vengeance.
Bitter, indeed, therefore, were his feelings now, for he fully believed that young Jack was in his grave in the Greek mountains.
Under any ordinary circumstances he would have felt tolerably easy, for well as he knew what an ugly customer was Jack Harkaway in a tussle, he was also aware that Jack would not take advantage of an enemy's powerless condition, no matter how deep were the wrongs inflicted.
The murder of Harkaway's boy, Hunston knew well, was a crime which Harkaway would never look over.
His fate was sealed.
So deeply was he convinced of this that he would have laid violent hands upon himself if he had had the power.
But the crowning crime of self-murder he was powerless to commit.
"So, Hunston," said Harkaway, sternly, "we meet face to face once more."
Hunston was silent.
What could he say?
"What new villainy brought you here?" said Harkaway. "What fresh act of devilry had you in contemplation when you got on board my vessel?"
Hunston gave him a sickly and scornful smile.
"Do you suppose that I knew where I was?"
"Yes."
Hunston stared.
"Then all I have to say is, that you haven't improved in wit or wisdom with increasing years. Why, the merest chance brought me here. I am not guilty of gratitude as a rule, you will say."
"True."
"You haven't the satisfaction of saying it," retorted Hunston, quickly; "I have said it for you. But the two men who hid me here had no idea who I was. Being hard pressed on shore—where you made it too hot to hold me—I took to the water, and when I was nearly sinking, I hailed their boat. They took me in and—"
"And you returned the compliment."
"How?"
"By taking them in," said Harkaway.
"They hid me away here to do me a service. I made my tale good to them. As my time, I feel, is nearly up in this world, I don't want to do them any wrong."
Harkaway listened in some astonishment.
The wretch's allusion to his approaching end thrilled Harkaway strangely.
"Do you feel so ill?" he asked.
Hunston smiled sardonically at this.
"Nearly all over," was his reply. "Laugh away—laugh away!"
"Hush, miserable man, hush!" exclaimed Harkaway. "You have known me nearly all my life; you knew me as a schoolboy and as a man."
"Yes."
"And no one has better reason than you to know that Jack Harkaway does not fight with helpless enemies, still less does he rejoice over the sufferings of the worst foe he ever had."
Hunston looked up.
A faint gleam of hope appeared in this.
But no; it was impossible.
Too well he knew that his life was forfeited.
But while he was ruminating thus, Harkaway had sent one of the men up on deck to fetch the doctor.
In the course of two or three minutes the man returned, accompanied by the ship's surgeon.
"A stowaway on board the 'Westward Ho!'" said the doctor, as he entered the hold; "I should sooner have expected to find one on board a man-of-war."
"Examine him, please, doctor," said Harkaway anxiously, "and let us know how he is."
The doctor made no reply, but proceeded without any fuss or demonstration to feel the sick man's pulse.
"Very low," he said; "in a bad way. We must get him up out of this place, for it is enough to choke a black."
He was tended as carefully as if he had been one of their best friends, instead of the bitterest, the most treacherous of their enemies; and, strange to relate, Jack Harkaway appeared not a little concerned about the villain's welfare.
"Do you think that there is any danger?" he asked.
"Immediate, do you mean, sir?" said the doctor.
"Yes."
"Humph! I can scarcely say. Not exactly immediate, perhaps, if care be taken."
"You think he will live?"
"Unless the fever which has set in should take an unfavourable turn. He is constitutionally strong."
"I know that."
The doctor looked at Harkaway in some surprise.
"You are a bit of a doctor, Mr. Harkaway?"
Jack smiled.
"A very small bit," he answered; "only I have known this man nearly all my life."
"Indeed!"
The doctor's manner invited confidence, and it was quite clear that his curiosity had been awakened.
Harkaway thought it over quickly and quietly, and he came to the conclusion that he could not do better than let the doctor participate in the secret.
"You are surprised that an old acquaintance of mine should be here on board my ship, lurking and skulking as a stowaway?"
"Well," answered Doctor Anderson, in a constrained manner, "if I confess the honest plain truth, I am."
"It is simple enough; the man did not know that he was on my vessel, or it would be about the last vessel in the world he would have chosen for refuge."
"Refuge?"
"Yes; refuge is the word. Now I am the worst man in the world at half confidences. Tell me, are you a good man to keep a secret, doctor?"
"I am."
"Then I may tell you something that will rather startle you."
"You will?"
"Yes. That poor wretch you have the charge of is the worst enemy that I have. It is my old schoolfellow, Hunston."
"Hunston!"
"Yes. You remember the name, I perceive."
"I do. But is it possible that the villain has the audacity to venture here?"
"No; that is just what he would not do. He took to the water, being hardly pressed by his enemies."
"Why, if your men knew who it was, they would tear him piecemeal."
"Exactly; and that's what I wanted to speak of to you, doctor. We must take every care not to let them know."
"Really, you are as careful of him as though he were a cherished friend."
"Not quite," answered Harkaway; "only I don't care to drop on a helpless enemy, even such a viper as this Hunston."
"But he is such an utterly bad lot."
"True; and I should not feel the slightest compunction at taking his life in a tussle, in a fair stand-up fight; but what I can't do, is taking a man's life when he is helpless at my mercy."
The doctor saw that Harkaway did not wish to discuss it further, and so he contented himself with obeying orders; and so Hunston got restored to health in the ship of his old schoolfellow, the man whom he had injured most deeply.
Care and skill of the first description were lavished upon him.
But for this, Hunston would probably have languished and died wretchedly upon the coast of Greece, unless an accident had thrown him into the power of the authorities.
In that case, his destiny would have been speedily accomplished.
His end—the scaffold.