Presently he rose again and gazed seawards over the heaving Pacific. The fine frigate, under a cloud of canvas, was already far distant. With longing eyes George looked after her, and, as she skimmed away upon the starboard tack, leaned over the taffrail and gave himself up to gloomy meditation.
The rough-and-tumble motion of the tug suited the turbulent thoughts which filled George's mind, but as the little vessel passed back through the Heads and came suddenly to an even keel, as suddenly did the unwilling passenger realise that, while every moment was bearing Terence nearer to the goal of their hopes, he himself, balked and trapped, was being sent ignominiously home like a bale of damaged goods.
He turned and began to pace the deck with quick, decided steps. He would not, he could not, go home. On that point he was determined. Right or wrong, he had made his choice and would abide by it. Besides, there was Terence to be thought of; Terence, who so willingly had sacrificed a paying occupation to follow the fortunes of his friend, and who now was left in the lurch by this unkind trick of fate. No; by hook or by crook he must get to New Zealand. But how? There was the rub.
'What ship is that?' he asked a sailor, pointing to a smart brig anchored about half a mile from the quay, and flying the 'Blue Peter.'
'The Stella, sir,' the man answered, 'and a handy craft she is. She sails at six o'clock to-morrow morning for Chatham Island, with stores for the prisoners there.'
George's heart gave a great leap, and the sailor, greatly to his surprise, received half a crown for this very trifling piece of information. But it was by no means trifling to George, whose despondency evaporated like dew in the sunshine, as he told himself that, come what might in the way of opposition, he would sail in that brig and somehow reach New Zealand. For in the Chatham Islands, some three hundred miles east of their coast, the New Zealand Government had established a penal settlement for Maoris, at which ships occasionally called with provisions and other necessaries. And of this fortunate circumstance George then and there made up his mind to take the fullest advantage.
The skipper of the tug had received a sovereign from Colonel Cranstoun as passage money for 'the young gentleman,' and fully expected to receive another from Colonel Haughton on delivering the said young gentleman in good order at his own front door. But this money was never earned, for it cost George but little effort to evade the clumsy seaman, and, as soon as the tug touched the quay, he leaped ashore and ran for his liberty.
Once out of sight he defied capture, though no attempt was made to take him, and, having written his father a letter, in which he described his adventure and stated his intentions, he returned to the quay after nightfall, hired a dingy, and pulled out to the brig, where he had a satisfactory interview with her skipper.
The outcome of this was an arrangement whereby George was to help as far as he could on the voyage to Chatham Island, to pay the cost of his food, and to give the skipper a bonus of two pounds. In return he was to receive a free passage to whatever New Zealand port the brig should first touch at on her return voyage. The agreement made, George and the skipper shook hands heartily with mutual esteem, each complimenting himself upon his shrewdness in driving an excellent bargain.
And so George fulfilled his promise to Terence that he would not be long in following him; though, little as he expected it, he was destined to meet with some strange adventures before he once again clasped hands with his friend.