The fact that when we got back to the Water-Lily, Alister found the captain dead drunk in his cabin, sealed our resolution to have nothing more to do with her when we were paid off, and our engagement ended (as had been agreed upon) in the Georgetown harbour. There was no fear that we should fail to get berths as common seamen now, if we wanted them; and there was not a thing to regret about the Slut, except perhaps Alfonso, of whom we were really fond. As it turned out, we had not even to mourn for him, for he cut cable from the Water-Lily too, having plans of his own, about which he made a great deal of mystery and displayed his wonted
importance, but whether they were matrimonial or professional, I doubt if even Dennis knew at the time.
Alister had something to lose. It was not a small consideration to give up his mate’s berth, but he said the whole conduct of the ship was “against his conscience,” and that settled the matter, to him.
When we were our own masters once more, we held another big council about our future. If I went home at once, I must, somehow or other, get back to Halifax before I could profit by Uncle Henry’s arrangement. If Dennis went home, he must equally depend on himself, for there was no saying when the Squire would, or would not, find out and rectify his omission. Alister’s mother had sent him some stamps for postage, and his paternal relative had sent him a message to the effect that having had neither word nor wittens of him for a considerable period, and having feared the worst, he was thankful to learn of his safe arrival in Halifax, Nova Scotia; and trusted that the step he had taken, if a thought presumptuous at his years, yet betokened a spirit of self-reliance, and might prove not otherwise than conducive to his welfare in the outcome.
Altogether, we were, practically, as much dependent on ourselves as when we sat under the pine-trees in Nova Scotia.
“We’ll look up my cousin, to begin with,” said Dennis.
“Are ye pairfectly convinced that he’s here?” asked Alister, warned by his own experience.
“Certainly,” said Dennis.
“Have ye corresponded with him of late?” pursued Alister.
“Not I, indeed. The O’Moores are by no means good letter-writers at the best of times, but he’d have let us know if he was dead, anyhow, and if he’s alive, we’ll be as welcome as the flowers.”