“Yes, I have sixty dollars and a little over. Do you want some of it?”
“No, I don’t,” said the sailor quickly. “I sha’n’t need any while I am at sea, but you’ll need it ashore. Here,” he added, taking off his monk-bag and handing it to Guy, “keep this to remember me by. Put your money in it, and tie it around your neck, and you won’t be likely to lose it. You can’t take your bundle with you, of course, so when we reach port you had better put on another suit of clothes under those you’ve got on now, and stow away all the dunnage about you that you can without making yourself look too fat. If you put on too much you might as well try to leave the ship with a chest on your shoulder, for the mates will know in a minute what you’re up to. They’re posted in all sailor tricks. We sha’n’t be long in port, so you had better be in a hurry. Whatever you do, don’t be caught, or you’ll sup sorrow with a spoon as big as a water-butt.”
This made Guy open his eyes. He had not expected to find any serious obstacle in his way. If the ship came to anchor in the harbor to which they were bound, especially if they arrived there during the night, it would be but little trouble for him to drop overboard from the fore-chains and swim ashore, provided the distance were not too great; and if she were made fast to the dock, it would be still less trouble to leave her. But now he knew that the officers would be on the watch, that they well understood every device that could be resorted to by deserters, and that if he were caught in the act of leaving the vessel, the treatment he had hitherto received would be mild in comparison with the punishment that would be inflicted upon him. The thought almost took Guy’s breath away, but it did not discourage him. He had fully made up his mind to desert the vessel if it were within the bounds of possibility, and was not to be easily frightened from his purpose.
He conferred with Flint at every opportunity, and made all necessary preparations, selecting the clothes he intended to take with him, and tying them up in a separate bundle together with the “Boy Trappers,” the book that belonged to Henry Stewart. This book Guy had carefully preserved. It was the only thing he had left of the hunting outfit which he had brought with him from home.
On the third day after the discovery of the robbers in the hold, land was in sight once more, and at nine o’clock in the evening the Santa Maria entered the port toward which the captain had shaped her course, and was made fast to the wharf.
Guy did not know what the name of the town was or what country it was in, and he did not think to inquire. All he cared for was to get safely off the vessel; he could get his bearings afterward.
As soon as the ship touched the dock the captain jumped ashore, and hurried away in the darkness—he was going after some officers to arrest the men in the hold, Flint said—and Guy ran into the forecastle to make ready for his attempt at desertion. He hastily pulled on the clothes he had selected, secured the “Boy Trappers” about his person, and having examined his monk-bag to make sure that his money was safe, presented himself before his friend, who nodded approvingly.
“It’s all right,” said the sailor. “You’ll pass in the dark. Now stand here by the side, and I’ll go aft and keep an eye on the mates. When I see that they are not looking toward you, I’ll cough this way—here Flint gave an illustration—and do you jump ashore, and run as if Old Nep was after you with his three-pronged pitchfork. I can’t shake hands with you for fear they’ll see me and suspect something; but you won’t forget me, will you, Jack?”
“Never,” replied Guy. “You have been very kind to me, and I wouldn’t leave you under any other circumstances.”
Flint, who did not care to prolong the interview, walked leisurely aft, and Guy leaned over the side and impatiently waited for the signal.