“Well—” I stammered hesitatingly, not liking to tell an untruth.
“Oh, I know,” said he interrupting me. “Sorry to leave mother and the girls, I suppose? Never mind, my boy, these partings must come some time or other, and the sooner they are over the better. I shall start, Eastman,” he added, turning to dad, “late in the afternoon, as soon as the wind sets off the land; so, you’d better send the boy aboard when the sun begins to sink. My boat is now waiting at the end of the wharf to take his traps.”
“Thanks, Miles,” replied my father; “but, won’t you come round with us to Jenny Gussett’s Hotel and have some lunch? My wife will be glad to see you.”
“Oh, has she come in to town to see the youngster off?” asked the captain.
“Yes, we all rode in,” answered dad. “The whole kit of us are here.”
“All right; I’ll come then, as soon as I’ve finished arranging matters and signing bills of lading with my agent here,” said Captain Miles cordially, adding, with one of his knowing winks to dad, “I’ve no doubt your missis wants to give me all sorts of directions about young Master Hopeful, eh?”
“You might be further out in your guess,” rejoined dad with a laugh; and presently the three of us went back to the hotel together, it being near the hour at which dad had ordered our early dinner, or luncheon, to be got ready.
The time soon slipped by at our meal, which none of us seemed to enjoy very much save the captain, who, of course, was not affected by any sad thoughts of parting, the same as dad and mother and I and my sisters were—that is excepting Baby Tot, for she looked still upon the whole thing as a joke and continued in the best of spirits.
When we rose from table, mother got hold of Captain Miles and began whispering earnestly to him, something about me, I was certain; so, in order not to overhear their conversation, I went towards the open door leading into a wide passage-way that terminated in the usual verandah common to all West Indian houses. The hotel, however, did not command such a pretty prospect as ours at Mount Pleasant, for it looked on to the street, which could be gained by descending a short flight of steps at the end of the alcove.
But, would you believe it, hardly had I reached the verandah, when, there on the top step I saw old Pompey standing in an attitude of great expectancy, with his footless wine-glass in hand, the same as was his habit at home on the plantation, although it was more than two hours past his usual grog-time!