“There’s no harm in that sort of thing,” he observed. “If the young chief takes to singing he will not dream of doing anything worse. Maybe he’ll not break his heart after all, though he may think of Miss Fanny for many a long day to come.”
In the morning the doctor came off again, and pronounced Charles Tilston very much better. He was able, indeed, to get up and breakfast with us in the cabin. He expressed his gratitude to Harry for the attention he had paid him, and especially for the care he had taken of Dick. He then told us, that on receiving Dick’s letter he had immediately set out, by his father’s desire, to bring him home. Wishing to take the shortest route, he had come over to America, and crossed the continent to San Francisco; he there found the Caesar on the point of sailing, and had accordingly taken a passage in her.
“I scarcely expected to reach Sydney,” he said. “The skipper was drunk the greatest part of every day, and sometimes for days together. It was a mercy that we got even as far as Samoa; and had we not been wrecked, I had intended to leave the brig, and proceed by some other vessel. Now that I have found my young brother I do not like to quit him again, but I am unwilling to deprive you of his services.”
“It will give me much pleasure if you will remain on board then,” said Harry. Charles Tilston, greatly to my satisfaction, at once accepted the invitation; for I had taken a great fancy to him, and was unwilling also to lose Dick. Harry arranged with him to go on shore to purchase some clothing and other necessaries at the store, in case his own portmanteau should not be recovered. The natives had, in the meantime, been collecting the goods thrown upon the beach from the wrecked vessel, not one of which was stolen, and bringing them into the town. We at once went to the place where they were stowed, and among them Charles Tilston discovered his own portmanteau, which he said professed to be waterproof. On opening it, he found that no wet had got in. It being delivered to him on a small payment for salvage, we returned with it on board. All that morning the calm continued, but in the afternoon, a breeze springing up, the pilot came off, and agreed to take us out. Just as the sails were loosed, before we hove up the anchor, Toa came alongside in his canoe. As was agreed on, Fanny remained below, but Mary came on deck to receive him, and to thank him for his kindness to me, but she said nothing about her sister.
“And I am also most grateful to you for saving my life,” said Charles Tilston. “Had it not been for you I am fully convinced that I should have been drowned, and I beg you to accept a few articles—all I have to offer—as a remembrance of me.” On this he put into his hand a handsome clasp knife, adding some gold pieces, with which the chief seemed highly pleased. I saw him continually looking towards the companion-hatch, as if he expected Fanny to appear, but he waited in vain. At last, Harry had to remind him that we were on the point of getting under weigh, and that it would be better for him to take his leave before we hove up the anchor. He was evidently trying to say something, but his tongue seemed to cling to the roof of his mouth; and heaving a sigh he stepped into his canoe and cast off. The anchor was immediately run up to the bows, and the sails filling, as there was a leading breeze, we ran swiftly out of the harbour. I saw the young chief standing up in his canoe, and waving to us his last farewells. Not till we were well outside did Fanny venture on deck.
“Take care,” said Mary laughing; “he may still come after us.”
However, he did not move his paddle, and we were soon out at sea, steering with a fair breeze to the eastward.