"That's more easily said than done, I imagine."
"Wait and see."
They crept back out of sight as Mr. Mole passed along. Then, having made a hurried whispered consultation, young Jack stepped forth alone and tackled Mr. Mole.
"Taking the air, sir?"
"Yes, Jack—hiccup—yes, my dear boy, and I have come to look out for land."
"Land?"
"Yes."
"Are we near?"
"Sho—sho—I mean so—I shpose—s'pose—"
Mr. Mole was conscious of his speech being a little bit thick, and he hastened to add that he was suffering from toothache.
"My mouth ish sho shwollen—swollen, I mean—that I can hardly sp—speak plainly," he said.
"Dear me! how shocking!" exclaimed young Jack.
Slipping his arm under Mr. Mole's they walked up and down talking.
Meanwhile, young Jack tipped the wink to Harry Girdwood, who slipped out of his hiding-place with Nero, and followed Mole and Jack along the deck.
Young Jack chose his opportunity well, and drawing his arm out of Mr. Mole's he pushed Nero's in its place.
Mr. Mole, all unconscious of the change in his companion, strutted along, chattering away, secretly pleased at having such an excellent listener by his side.
"It'sh really pleasure to talk to you, my dear boy," he said.
"You un—stand with half a word—and I enjoy—a conservation—conserva—singular thing—I can't say conservashun. I enjoy—a talk—an intellectshul chat more with you than sitting down to wine with Jeffershon and Harvey, and your dear father. Good fellarsh—jolly good fellarsh—only too fond of sitting over wine. Shocking habit—shpending hours in getting tipshy—hiccup!"
* * * * *
Now, while Mr. Mole poured out his philosophical reflections into Nero's ear, Harry Gridwood went and fetched Harvey; old Jack and Jefferson.
Young Jack stepped back to the door of the deck saloon, and sat down while Mole turned round and hobbled up the deck again, with Nero still leaning upon his arm.
As the old gentleman came up to where they all stood, they could hear him still laying down the law to Nero.
"Yesh, Jack, my dear boy," he was saying, "wine'sh a jolly good thing—to be ushed and not abushed. Blow my toothache—toothache—so very dericulous—don't know what I'm shaying."
Mr. Mole winked and blinked like an owl in daylight.
"Jack."
"Sir."
"Whash the devil—Jack!"
He started in utter amazement.
"Yes, sir."
"Why, Mr. Mole," said Harvey, suddenly popping out of the cabin, followed by Jefferson and old Jack, "what on earth are you walking up and down with him for?"
"Who?"
Before another word could be spoken, Nero, on a secret sign from his young master, took off his tarpaulin hat, and dabbed it on Mr. Mole's head.
Mole turned suddenly round upon his companion.
"Nero—the devil fly away with you, you beast!"
He made a dash at the monkey; but the latter was up in the shrouds and out of danger in the twingling of an eye.
* * * * *
"Land ho!"
"Which way?"
"Due south."
Harkaway had a glass up in a crack.
"That's right," he said. "Gentlemen all, allow me to introduce you to Australia."
CHAPTER LI.
HUNSTON IS DISPOSED OF.
Yes, there was the continent of Australia.
The ladies came running up on deck at the news, for the first sight of land after a long voyage is a thing to make your heart beat, however much you like the sea.
"I can't see anything yet," said little Emily, after peering vainly through a telescope for five minutes.
"Because you don't get the proper focus," explained young Jack.
"Then you fix it for me, since you are so clever," retorted the young lady.
"That's an Irish remedy," laughed young Jack.
However, he helped her to fix upon the focus, and then she had the gratification of seeing the land.
It was a beautiful verdure-clad range of hills that they had first perceived from the distance, which were half a mile or more inland.
So that they found themselves presently much nearer land than they had supposed.
It was covered with wild luxuriant vegetation, but it was altogether uncultivated.
"Harkaway," said Jefferson, as they stood together contemplating the scene, "this is where Hunston must be dropped ashore."
Harkaway thought it over for a few moments.
"Yes, Jefferson," he said, presently, "I think you are right, this will do. He can't well starve here, and it will be better than dropping him amongst the civilised people."
A boat was manned, and provisioned, and lowered.
Then Hunston was brought up from below.
His face had never changed since the first moment that he had recovered from the great shock of the flogging he had received.
Apparently there was some fixed purpose in his mind now that it would take much to uproot.
He never said a word when they came to fetch him.
He was not a little anxious to know all about it, but such was his pride that he would have perished sooner than breathe a word.
As he was lowered into the boat, Harkaway just gave him to understand what he was going to do in a few hurriedly-chosen words.
"We are going to put you ashore here, Hunston; not that you have any right to expect the least consideration at our hands, but we do not wish to have it on our consciences that you have been badly treated by us. You will be left here, far away from any human habitation, where you can do no harm, at least, for some time to come. We shall leave you these provisions, but we have no arms or ammunition to give you."
Hunston listened silently—impassively to these words.
Not the slightest change in the expression of his countenance indicated that he heard the words which been addressed to him.
"You are going, and our ways through the rest of our lives may be widely separated. We may never meet again. It will be some gratification to you to know that you have once more most keenly disappointed me—that I would have given much to see the least signs of repentance in you—that the greatest delight would have been for me to say to myself 'At least I have conquered the evil in that man's nature by showing him a good return for his vicious acts, and turned a bitter enemy into a friend,' but that was a forlorn hope. May you live to repent your evil courses."
Hunston turned.
Not a word escaped him.
The boat pulled off from the vessel, and in the same sullen silence he was landed with his rations.
There were forty pounds of hard biscuits, a good twenty pounds of salt beef, besides rice, flour, a jar of water, and other matters which might be necessary, should he fail to fall in with the means of getting food and drink for some considerable time.
But when that was gone he might starve.
THE END.