“Dear Mac,” replied Reginald, “there is no change, except that the voyage will soon be at an end, just as my voyage of life will.”
“Now, sir, I won’t have that at all. Me and my mates here have made up our minds, and we believe you ain’t guilty at all, and that they dursn’t string you up on the evidence that will go before the jury.”
“I fear not death, anyhow, Mac. Indeed, I am not sure that I might not say with Job of old, ‘I prefer strangling rather than life.’”
“Keep up your pecker, sir; never say die; and don’t you think about it. We’ll come and see you to-morrow again. Adoo.”
Yes, the voyage was coming to a close, and a very uneventful one it had been. When the mountains of California at last hove in sight, and Skipper Neaves informed Reginald that they would get in to-morrow night, he was rather pleased than otherwise. But Matty was now in deepest grief. This strange child clung around his neck and cried at the thoughts of it.
“Oh, I shall miss you, I shall miss you!” she said. “And you can’t take poor Matty with you?”
And now, to console her, he was obliged to tell her what might have been called a white lie, for which he hoped to be forgiven.
“But Matty must not mourn; we shall meet again,” he said. “And perhaps I may take Matty with me on a long cruise, and we shall see the Queen of the Isle of Flowers once more, and you and dear Oscar, your beautiful Newfoundland, shall play together, and romp just as in the happy days of yore. Won’t it be delightful, dear?”
Matty smiled through her tears, only drawing closer to Reginald’s breast as she did.