“Make ready for thy voyage, lad. All will be well. They dare not lay a finger upon her precious head. I will defend her with all the power of the colony, and call in the Indians if need be. Hope has not the heart to say good-by. The dear lamb is terrified, and sick at heart. I will avenge the indignity put upon us by these hypocrites! In faith, I will, and we will all meet in England, dear John, and forget this day.”
Thus did the stout man strive to ease his own heart, and stifle back its terrible misgivings.
The little ship, of scarcely two hundred tons, rocked in the offing, and the not unmusical “Yo-heave-oh!” of the sailors, as they weighed the anchor, and shook out the sails, admonished young Bonyton that it was time for him to go on shipboard. The youth still lingered, and cast many a wistful look at the high rocks and dense forests, in the vain expectation of seeing Hope make her appearance.
“My mind misgives me that all is not well with Hope,” he whispered in the ear of Sir Richard.
“Nay, my son, she has been frightened; she hides herself rather than say farewell. Do not heed it. I will write thee that all is well by the next ship. I would have thee away from this people, also,” he added, in a lower tone.
The youth hardly noticed this kindly outbreak, which, at another time, would have awakened affectionate gratitude, but he still lingered and looked. He took the cap from his head, and shaded his eyes therewith. The fine, freshening breeze lifted the curls from his brow, and showed its whiteness; but now it was too pale, and contracted sharply, making a heavy dent between the eyes.
The white sails were set, the anchor weighed, the wherry grated upon the sand, and impatient voices urged him to embark; and yet John Bonyton lingered. His foot was on the gunwale of the boat; the sailors lifted their oars, when suddenly he started back, waved his hand for them to go, and exclaimed:
“No, by heavens! I will not leave, uncertain of her fate!”
There were adjurations and remonstrances innumerable. The vessel waited; Sir Richard implored; it was in vain.