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To The West, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 10. Off To The West |
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_ CHAPTER TEN. OFF TO THE WEST That was really the prime difficulty in our leaving England--to keep Mrs Dean's ideas of necessaries within bounds. Poor little woman! She could not, try how her son and I would to make her, understand what was the meaning of simple necessaries. "Now it's of no use for you to fly in a passion with your poor mother, Esau," she used to say. "I've consented to go with you to this wild savage land, but I must have a few things to make the house comfortable when we get there." "But don't I tell you you can't take 'em, because they won't have 'em aboard ship; and you can't stuff 'em in a waggon and carry 'em millions of miles when you get across." "If you wouldn't be so unreasonable, Esau. There, I appeal to Mr Gordon." "So do I," roared Esau. "Does mother want a great ironing-board?" "No," I said; "we can make you hundreds out there." "Oh dear me. You'll say next I mustn't take my blankets and sheets." "You must only take what you can pack in one big chest," I said. "But no chest would hold what I want to take," whimpered the poor little woman. "I declare if I'd known that I was to give up everything I have scraped together all these years I wouldn't have consented to go. Here, Esau, what are you going to do with those ornaments?" "Set 'em aside for the broker." "Esau, I must take them." "All right, mother. We'll have a ship on purpose for you, and you shall take the kitchen fender, the coal-scuttle, the big door-mat, and the old four-post bedstead." "Oh, thank you, my dear; that is good of--Esau! you're laughing at me, and you too, Mr Gordon. I declare it's too bad." "So it is, mother--of you. Once for all, I tell you that you must pack things that will be useful in one big chest, and you can take a few things that you'll want on the voyage and in the waggon in a carpet bag." "But it's ruinous, my dear--all my beautiful things I've taken such pride in to be sacrificed." "Oh, do hark at her!" cried Esau, sticking two fingers in his ears, and stamping about. "I wish to goodness I'd never had no mother." "Then you're a cruel, ungrateful boy, and you'll break my heart before you've done. Mr Gordon, what am I to do?" "To try and think that we are going to start a new life, and that when Esau makes a new home for you, all these household things can be got together by degrees." "But it's ruin, my dear. All these things will go for nothing." "They won't, I tell you," roared Esau. "How many more times am I to tell you that Dingle will give us fifty pounds for 'em? Him and another man's joining, and they're going to put 'em in sales; and if they don't make so much, we've got to pay them, and if they make more, Dingle's going to pay us. What more do you want?" "Nothing, my dear; I've done," said Mrs Dean in a resigned tone, such as would have made a bystander think that the whole business was settled. It was not, however, for the next day most likely the whole argument would be gone through again about some trifle. Meanwhile I had been helping Mr John, and here Mr Dingle's knowledge came in very helpful, and he devoted every spare minute he had, working so well, that he arranged with one of our well-known auctioneers to take the furniture of the cottage, and triumphantly brought Mr John a cheque for far more than he expected to receive. One way and another, Mr John was well provided with funds, laughingly telling me he had never been so rich before, as I went with him to his landlord's to give up the key of the pleasant little house. For during the rapidly passing days of that fortnight everything had been settled, a passage had been secured for Mrs Dean in the same vessel by which Mr and Mrs John were going, and it had been finally decided that Esau and I were to go by quite a different route. For while they were to go by swift steamer across to Quebec, and from there through Canada with one or other of the waggon-trains right to Fort Elk, on the upper waters of the Fraser, we lads were, after seeing the little party off to Liverpool, to go on board the _Albatross_, a clipper ship bound from London to the River Plate, and round by Cape Horn to San Francisco, from which port we were to find our way north the best way we could. There would be no difficulty, we were told, for vessels often sailed from the Golden Gate to the mouth of the Fraser, but our voyage would be slow. It would be rapid though compared to the land journey across the prairies. Our trip would probably last five months, more if our stay at San Francisco were long; but allowing for halts at the settlements, and the deliberate way in which, for Mrs John's benefit, the journey was to be made, their trip would extend to a year--probably more. Mr John had gone through it all with me again and again, reading long extracts from his brother-in-law's letter written expressly for their guidance, till I knew them pretty well by heart. In these he was told to hasten on to the high and mountainous lands, for it was there the advantage to Mrs John would be. They would find it cold as the autumn passed into winter during their journey, intensely cold, perhaps; but it would be bright and sunshiny as a rule, and the clear pure air of the elevated regions gave health and strength. I thought a great deal about it, and felt puzzled sometimes, wondering whether it could be wise to take a delicate woman all that tremendous distance. But I was too young, I thought, to have opinions worth consideration, and I always came to the conclusion that my elders must know best. Then came the day for parting, so quickly that I could hardly believe it. The luggage had gone on some days before to Liverpool, and there were Esau and I seeing after the few things that were to accompany the travellers in their cabins, as we stood on the platform at Euston. Mrs John looked terribly thin and worn, more suited, I thought, for going at once to her bed than to venture on such a terrible journey; but there was a bright, hopeful look in her eyes as I helped her to her seat, and she spoke quite cheerily as she held my hand, Mr John holding the other, and we occupied ourselves with our final good-byes, so as not to notice Mrs Dean and her son. But I could not help hearing Esau's words-- "Oh, I say, mother, don't--don't! You must get to your seat now. There, good-bye, dear. It isn't so very far after all, and we'll be there waiting for you, and ready to welcome you when you come." "But is it right, dear?" she said; "is it right?" "'Course it is. Don't turn coward. You must go now all the things are sold." There was a final embrace; Mrs Dean was hurried into her seat, the door closed; Mr John pressed my hand hard without a word, and Mrs John put her arms about my neck and kissed me. "God bless you! _au revoir_!" she said. "Stand back, sir, please," some one shouted; the engine gave a piercing shriek, and Esau and I stood on the stone platform watching the train glide away with many a head out of the window, and hand and kerchief waving growing more and more confused, while a sense of desolation and loneliness oppressed me till I quite started at my companion's words. "Oh, won't poor mother have a big cry up in a corner all the way down. It's very rum, but I suppose she is fond of me." "Fond of you?" I said; "of course." "Well," he said, "here we are, passages paid, and all that money in our pockets, and nothing to do for two days. What shall us do--go and have a bit of fun, or get on board at the docks?" "Get on board the _Albatross_," I said. "There don't seem to me as if there is any more fun in the world." "Well now, that is a strange thing," said Esau; "that's just how I feel. Look here." "What at?" "I feel just in the humour for it--as cross and nasty as can be. Let's go and say good-bye to old Demp." But we did not; we went sadly to the docks, where our boxes already were, and that night took possession of our berths. _ |
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