For a few seconds he stood glancing round the quarterdeck of the Talisman with a look of mingled curiosity and sadness. But when his eye fell on the form of Henry he turned deadly pale, and trembled like an aspen leaf.
“Well, Gascoyne, my—my—friend,” said the youth with some hesitation as he advanced.
The shout that Gascoyne uttered on hearing the young man’s voice was almost superhuman. It was something like a mingled cheer and cry of agony. In another moment he sprang forward, and seizing Henry in his arms, pressed him to his breast with a grasp that rendered the youth utterly powerless.
Almost instantly he released him from his embrace, and seizing his hand, said, in a wild, gay, almost fierce manner—
“Come, Henry, lad, I have somewhat to say to you. Come with me.”
He forced rather than led the amazed youth into the boat, sculled to the schooner, hurried him into the cabin, and shut and locked the door.
We need scarcely say that all this was a matter of the deepest curiosity and interest to those who witnessed it; but they were destined to remain with their curiosity unsatisfied for some time after that.
When Henry Stuart issued from the cabin of the Avenger after that mysterious interview, his countenance wore a surprised and troubled expression. Gascoyne’s, on the contrary, was grave and calm, yet cheerful. He was more like his former self.
The young man was, of course, eagerly questioned as to what had been said to him, and why the pirate had shewn such fondness for him; but the only reply that could be got from him was, “I must not tell. It is a private matter. You shall know time enough.”
With this answer they were fain to be content—even Corrie failed to extract anything more definite from his friend.