“All right, Uncle. When shall we go?”
“Just as soon as we’ve paid all the bills and settled our accounts for the last voyage. A week’ll do that, I reckon. An’ now, partner, just run out and hire a closed carriage, and we’ll get Cap’n Gay’s gold to the bank as soon as possible. Sam, my boy, if this streak o’ luck holds good we’ll be the envy of Rockyfeller in a few years!”
CHAPTER XVIII
UNCLE NABOTH’S REVENGE.
Ten days later, having paid all our indebtedness and converted every ounce of our gold into ready money that was deposited to the credit of “Perkins & Steele,” at the bank, we started on what Uncle Naboth called our “voyage” across the continent.
We had both taken a strong liking for Ned Britton, who had stood by us so faithfully at the island; so Mr. Perkins decided to make Ned the mate of the new ship, when she had been purchased. For this reason, and because the sailor wished to revisit some of his relatives in the East and make them happy by sharing with them his prize money, Ned also traveled on the same train with us.
“Britton’s judgment will be useful in helping us to pick out a ship,” said the old man. “I’m glad he’s going with us.”
Nux and Bryonia had promptly deserted the “Flipper” as soon as they found that Captain Gay had purchased her, and I think my hardest task was to leave the simple black men behind me. They declared that they belonged to “the firm” and must be given places on the new ship, and this both Uncle Naboth and I were anxious to do, as we knew we could never again find such loyal and unselfish servants. But it would be folly to take them east until all arrangements had been made. So I found them comfortable lodgings, and supplied them with all the money they could possibly require until they were sent for. At the last moment they were at the station to see the train move away, and were so fearful of the iron monster that was to carry their friends on the journey that they cautioned me again and again to be very careful in my actions.
“’Fore all, Mars Sam,” said Nux, earnestly, “doan’ you go skeer dat injine on no ’count. W’en it’s skeert it smashes ev’ything into mush.”
“’Pears gentle ’nouf now, Sam,” added Bry; “but don’ you trust it, no how. ’Tain’t safe, like a great sail an’ a stiff breeze.”