"And Greenway," the people said. "Why should they take him? He is of no good on a ship."
On this, Dickory's heart fell further. He had been troubled about the Scotchman, but had tried not to think of him.
"The scoundrels have stolen them both, with the vessel," he said; and as he spoke his soul rose upward at the thought of what he had done for Kate; and as that had been done, what mattered it after all what had happened to other people?
Five minutes afterward a man came running through the town with the news that old Bonnet's daughter, Miss Kate, had also gone away in the ship. She was not at home; she was not in the town.
"That settles it!" said some people. "The black-hearted rascal! He has gone of his own accord, and he has taken Greenway and his fair young daughter with him."
"And what do you think of that!" said some to the doubter Dickory.
"I don't believe a word of it!" said he; and not wishing on his own responsibility to tell what he knew of Mistress Kate Bonnet, he rowed up the river towards the Bonnet plantation to carry her message. On his way, whom should he see, hurrying along the road by the river bank coming towards the town and looking hot and worried, but Mr. Martin Newcombe. At the sight of the boat he stopped.
"Ho! young man," he cried, "you are from the town; has anything fresh been heard about Major Bonnet and his daughter?"
Now here was the best and easiest opportunity of doing the third thing which Kate had asked him to do; but his heart did not bound to do it. He sat and looked at the man on the river bank.
"Don't you hear me?" cried Newcombe. "Has anybody heard further from the Bonnets?"