“How long I slept,” said Tommy, continuing the narrative, “I am not quite sure; but it must have been a longish time, for it was somewhere in a Tuesday when I lay down, and it was well into a Thursday when I got up, or rather was knocked up by the bow of a thousand-ton ship! It was a calm evening, with just a gentle breeze blowin’ at the time, and a little hazy. The look out in the ship did not see the schooner until he was close on her; then he yelled ‘hard-a-lee!’ so I was told, for I didn’t hear it, bein’, as I said, sound asleep. But I heard and felt what followed plain enough. There came a crash like thunder. I was pitched head-foremost out o’ the berth, and would certainly have got my neck broken, but for the flimsy table in the cabin, which gave way and went to pieces under me, and thus broke my fall. I got on my legs, and shot up the companion like a rocket. I was confused enough, as you may suppose, but I must have guessed at once what was wrong—perhaps the rush of water told it me—for I leaped instantly over the side into the sea to avoid being sucked down by the sinking vessel. Down it went sure enough, and I was so near it that in spite of my struggles I was carried down a long way, and all but choked. However, up I came again like a cork. You always said I was light-headed, Bax, and I do believe that was the reason I came up so soon!
“Well, I swam about for ten minutes or so, when a boat rowed up to the place. It had been lowered by the ship that ran me down. I was picked up and taken aboard, and found that she was bound for Australia!
“Ha! that just suited you, I fancy,” said Bax.
“Of course it did, but that’s not all. Who d’ye think the ship belonged to? You’ll never guess;—to your old employers, Denham, Crumps, and Company! She is named the ‘Trident,’ after the one that was lost, and old Denham insisted on her sailing on a Friday. The sailors said she would be sure to go to the bottom, but they were wrong, for we all got safe to Melbourne, after a very good voyage.
“Well, I’ve little more to tell now. On reaching Melbourne I landed—”
“Without a sixpence in your pocket?” asked Bax.
“By no means,” said Tommy, “I had five golden sovereigns sewed up in the waist-band of my trousers, not to mention a silver watch like a saucepan given to me by old Jeph at parting, and a brass ring that I got from Bluenose! But it’s wonderful how fast this melted away in Melbourne. It was half gone before I succeeded in finding out what part of the country you had gone to. The rest of it I paid to a party of miners, who chanced to be coming here, for leave to travel and feed with them. They left me in the lurch, however, about two days’ walk from this place; relieving me of the watch at parting, but permitting me to keep the ring as a memorial of the pleasant journey we had had together! Then the rascals left me with provisions sufficient for one meal. So I came on alone; and now present myself to you half-starved and a beggar!”
“Here is material to appease your hunger, lad,” said Harry Benton, with a laugh, as he tossed a mass of flour cake, known among diggers as “damper,” towards the boy.
“And here,” added Bax, pitching a small bag of gold-dust into his lap, “is material to deliver you from beggary, at least for the present. As for the future, Tommy, your own stout arms must do the rest. You’ll live in our tent, and we’ll make a gold-digger of you in a couple of days. I could have wished you better fortune, lad, but as you have managed to make your way to this out-o’-the-way place, I suppose you’ll want to remain.”
“I believe you, my boy!” said Tommy, with his mouth full of damper.