“Uncle,” said Tommy, “Bax is gone!”
“Tommy, I knows it,” was the brief reply, and the telescope was shut up with a bang, as the seaman sat down on a little chest, and stared vacantly in the boy’s face.
“Why did he do it?” asked Tommy.
“Dun’ know. Who knows? S’pose he must ha’ gone mad, though it don’t seem likely. If it wasn’t Guy as told me I’d not believe it.”
“Does Guy not know why he’s gone?”
“Apperiently he does, but he says he’s bound not to tell. Hope Bax han’t bin and done somethin’ not ’xactly right—”
“Bax do anything not exactly right!” cried Tommy, with a look and tone of amazed indignation.
“Right, lad, you’re right,” said Bluenose apologetically. “I’ve no doubt myself he could explain it all quite clear if he wos here for to do so. That’s my opinion; and I’ve no doubt either that the first letter he sends home will make all straight an’ snug, depend on it.”
“Uncle,” said Tommy, “I am going to Australia.”
Bluenose, who had just lighted his pipe, looked at the boy through the smoke, smiled, and said, “No, Tommy, you ain’t.”