We were all glad when this matter, with the examination and sickening details that it entailed, was finally settled, and we were at liberty to go where we liked.
Colonel Vereker more than justified my confidence in him.
“Heavens! my boy, you must and shall be as my son,” he said, wringing my hand in a grip that I knew would be faithful unto death. “Come with me and I will make a man of you, and a rich one, too, Dick Haldane!”
“But how shall I manage about my mother and sister, sir?” said I hesitatingly. “How shall I manage about them during my absence?”
“You can make over your salary to them, for you will not want anything while at Caracas, as you will live with me as my private secretary,” he replied, with another hearty shake of my hand. “The money shall be paid to your mother regularly by my agent here, so that you need have no fears on that score as to her support. But I do not want you to decide such an important change in your life without proper consideration, and the advice of your friends, my boy. Go and consult Señor Applegarth, who I know is an old friend of yours as well as being your captain; and then, if he and your other friends advise your acceptance of my offer, and your mother and sister are willing to part with you—why then, Dick, you may consider the matter settled, and you, some day, will be very thankful you accepted my offer.”
The skipper did not hesitate for one moment in giving his opinion, though, like most of my mess-mates, he was good enough to say how sorry he would be to part with me, and how he would miss me.
“Go by all means, my lad,” said he. “By George! it’s a chance that doesn’t come twice in a fellow’s lifetime, and you may consider your fortune as good as made!”
Mr Fosset and Garry O’Neil were equally enthusiastic.
“Faith, now, sor!” observed the latter, with a comical air of assured deference at my future dignified position, as he imagined it would be, “I hope ye’ll remember ye’r humble ould fri’nd Garry whim ye’re Prisidint of the Venezuelan Raypublic, mid a lot of yaller divvles for lackeys, an’ so many dollars that ye won’t know what to do wid ’em. Begorrah, it’s wishin’ I am, I stood in ye’r shoes, alannah, an’ I wouldn’t care for to call the Pope me ouncle, God bless him!”
Spokeshave, though, sneered at my success in gaining so good a friend as the colonel; but owing to the accident to the top of his nose, which being still bandaged, or rather court-plastered up, and not tending to add to his beauty, he was not able to turn it up and sniff in his former irritating way that always exasperated me so much.