It was my turn now to be silent, and I stood watching Tom, and thinking as I struggled with myself that it would, after all, be very pleasant to have a sturdy trustworthy fellow like Tom always at my back when I was in a strange land. For I had read that the descendants of the old Spaniards in South America were courtly noble-looking gentlemen enough, but were bitter and revengeful, and not always disposed to look with favour upon Englishmen. How did I know but in my fortune-seeking adventures—for truly enough I meant to go out to seek my fortune—I might make enemies, and be sometime or another in danger. Then how good it would be to have such a henchman as Tom at my side.
My thoughts were very visionary, of course, for I could not foresee the strange adventures through which I should have to go; and for the moment I was about to turn sharp round on Tom, and shake hands and say, “That’s right, Tom, we will go out and carve our fortunes together.” But I checked myself directly, as I thought of my position.
For how was I to take out with me what to all intents and purposes would be a servant, when the probabilities were that I should hardly have the money to pay my own passage to the far-off land?
I was interrupted in my thoughts by Tom, who turned to me and said, “Give me your knife, Mas’r Harry, and I’ll give it a good sharp up along o’ mine. There’s nothing like having a good keen knife in your pocket when you’re going travelling, so they say.”
“Very true, Tom,” I cried laughing; “are you really in earnest over this?”
“Really in earnest, Mas’r Harry? Why, I never felt so earnest before in my life. To be sure I am, I want to see a bit o’ the world.”
“Very well then, Tom,” I replied; “you will have a hard lot to share with me, but share it you shall if you like.”
“I don’t want to share or anything of the kind,” said Tom gruffly. “You’re young master, and I’m only lad. I know what I am and what I’m fit for well enough, Mas’r Harry, so don’t you get talking no more about sharing danger, because it won’t do.”
“Oh, very well, Tom, we won’t quarrel about that.”
“That’s right then, Mas’r Harry; so now give us hold of your knife.”