WHEN he found his friend Flint, Guy did not know just what he would do. Probably he intended to be governed entirely by his advice, for he had already thought better of his resolution to return at once to Norwall.
It is true that he had seen the rough side of the world so far during his wanderings, but he believed that it had better things in store for him. At any rate he would find Flint and ask him if it hadn’t. The sailor was so jolly and hopeful, and spoke so encouragingly whenever Guy told him of his troubles, that it was a pleasure to be in his company.
Guy spent an hour in unavailing search for his friend, but he discovered the Ossipee, which was discharging her cargo preparatory to going into the dry docks, and by taking her as a point of departure succeeded at last in finding the boarding-house at which he had eaten supper the night before.
He approached it with the utmost caution, momentarily expecting to come suddenly upon some signs of the terrible fracas that had taken place there a few hours ago, such as broken skulls, dissevered limbs, and lifeless bodies; but nothing of the kind was to be seen. The place was as quiet as the station-house he had just left, and Guy had half a mind to go in and ask for Flint, but hesitated when he thought of the landlord, with his fierce mustache and closely-cropped head. He did not want to see the landlord again, or that worthy might demand to know what he meant by running out of his house in that unceremonious manner and leaving his supper bill unpaid.
While Guy was wondering how he could answer such a question without wounding the landlord’s feelings, a hail came to him from the opposite side of the street.
“Halloo there! Hold on a minute!” exclaimed a voice.
Guy looked up and saw a stranger coming toward him. He was dressed in broadcloth, wore a shining plug hat on his head, and well-blacked boots on his feet; rings sparkled on his fingers, something that looked like a diamond glittered in his shirt bosom, and a heavy gold watch-chain dangled across his crimson waistcoat. Taken altogether he reminded Guy of the steward of the Queen of the Lakes. He approached with some eagerness in his manner, and as he came up thrust out his hand and greeted the boy with:
“Why, Jenkins, how are you? Glad to see you; when did you come in? Just been down to your ship looking for you. How are you, I say?”
The stranger smiled so good-naturedly, shook his hand so warmly, and appeared so delighted to see him, that Guy was rather taken aback. As soon as he could speak, he replied: