Chapter Thirteen.
Two years after—Rumours of war—Good news for Tom—Mr Weston makes an interesting proposal.
Nearly two years have passed since the events recorded in the previous chapters, and our hero is once more the guest of Captain Jamieson. The Westons, too, are at Ralfontein, likewise Patrick Keown and the faithful Hottentot, Black William.
But not Major Flinders?
No; the Major is away in England with his wife and daughters, and many months must elapse before Tom can hope to see their faces again.
But let us “hark back,” and see what has happened since George Weston was so nearly done to death by the tree-leopard.
In the spring of 1845 Mrs Flinders was suddenly seized with a sharp attack of illness which for some time entirely baffled the skill of the Cape Town doctors; and when, after weeks of anxiety and watching, they seemed to get the better of the disease, the poor lady was left almost at death’s door. Days went by without the patient showing any appreciable signs of improvement, and at length the doctors were obliged to confess that though they had checked the disorder they had by no means conquered it. The plain truth was, they were altogether out of their depth.
Said the pompous and portly Dr Brownjohn: “Major, you must, I fear, take our interesting patient to England, and—ha—and—”
“Seek better advice,” interrupted plain-spoken Mr Spike, his brother-medico. “We can do nothing more, my dear sir. The case is beyond us, I’m grieved to say.”
“And—hum!—and, I was about to say, the sea voyage may possibly benefit her,” continued the great M.D., looking “prussic acid and strychnine” at his candid colleague. “As my young friend Spike suggests,” he added after a pause, “you might consult some well-known London physician. Sir Timothy Glauber and Doctor Peter Bolus are both eminent men—very eminent men, I may say; you could not do better than seek their valuable advice.”