Read Ebook: The Adventures of Don Lavington: Nolens Volens by Fenn George Manville

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Ebook has 4909 lines and 116266 words, and 99 pages

"What?"

"Not be always rubbing my nose again a desk. Go off to one o' them bu'ful foreign countries as I've told you of, where there's gold and silver and dymons, and birds jus' like 'em; and wild beasts to kill, and snakes as long as the main mast. Ah! I've seen some sights in furren abroad, as what I've told you about's like nothing to 'em. Look here, Mas' Don, shall I stop on for an hour and tell you what I've seen in South America?"

"No, no, Mike; my uncle doesn't like you to be with me."

"Ah, and well I knows it. 'Cause I tells you the truth and he feels guilty, Mas' Don."

"And--and it only unsettles me," cried the boy with a despairing look in his eyes. "Get on with your work, and I must get on with mine."

"Ah, to be sure," said the scoundrel with a sneer. "Work, work, work. You and me, Mas' Don, is treated worse than the black niggers as cuts the sugar-canes down, and hoes the 'bacco in the plantations. I'm sorry for you."

Lindon Lavington thrust his little account book in his breast, and walked hurriedly in the direction taken by the man Jem, entering directly after a low warehouse door, where rows of sugar-hogsheads lay, and there was a murmur and buzz made by the attracted flies.

Mike Bannock stood with his hands clasping the handle of the crane winch against which he leaned without moving, but his eyes were hard at work.

He followed Don with them till he had disappeared through the low dark doorway, then glanced at the closed gate leading into the busy street, and then at the open office door, a few yards away.

All was still, save the buzzing of the flies about the casks on that hot midsummer's day, and without the trace of a limp, the man stepped rapidly into the office, but only to dart back again in alarm, for, all at once, there was a loud rattling noise of straps, chains, and heavy harness.

There was no cause for alarm. It was only the fat, sleepy horse in the trolly shafts, who, at the same time that he gave his nosebag a toss, shook himself violently to get rid of the flies which preferred his juices to the sugar oozing from many a hogshead's seams.

Mike darted into the office again; the flies buzzed; the horse munched oats; the faint sound of Don's voice in converse with Jem Wimble could he heard; then there was a faint click as if a desk had been shut down softly, and Mike stepped out again, gave a hasty glance round, and the next moment was standing dreamily with his eyes half-closed, grasping the handle of the crane winch as Don returned, closely followed by Jem Wimble.

"Now, Mas' Don, I'll just mark another," said Jem, "and we'll have him out."

He took a lump of chalk from a ledge close by, and ascended a step ladder to a door about six feet above the spot where Mike stood, and Don stood with his book under his arm, his brow rugged, and a thoughtful look in his eyes.

Just then the small door in the yard gate was opened, and a sturdy-looking grey-haired man in snuff-coloured coat and cocked hat, drab breeches and gaiters, entered unseen by the pair, who had their backs to him.

"You idle scoundrel! How many more times am I to tell you that I will not have my time wasted over those lying stories of yours? Lindon, am I ever to be able to trust you when business takes me away?"

The words came in short sharp tones, and the speaker's dark eyes seemed to flash. The effect was marvellous.

Mike began to turn the handle at a rapid rate, winding up the rope till the pair of hooks used for grasping the great hogsheads rattled with their chains against the pulley wheels of the crane, and a shout came from the warehouse,--

"Whatcher doing of? Hold hard!"

"Stop, sir!" cried the stern-looking man to Mike, just as Jem appeared at the upper doorway and looked down.

"Oh!" he ejaculated. "Didn't know as you was there, sir."

"It is disgraceful, Lindon. The moment my back is turned you leave your desk to come and waste the men's time. I am ashamed of you."

Lindon's forehead grew more wrinkled as Josiah Christmas, merchant of Bristol city, and his maternal uncle, walked into the office, whither the lad followed slowly, looking stubborn and ill-used, for Mike Bannock's poison was at work, and in his youthful ignorance and folly, he felt too angry to attempt a frank explanation.

In fact, just then one idea pervaded his mind--two ideas--that his uncle was a tyrant, and that he ought to strike against his tyranny and be free.

BLIND AS BATS.

That same evening Don Lavington did not walk home with his uncle, but hung back to see Jem Wimble lock-up, and then sauntered slowly with him toward the little low house by the entrance gates, where the yard-man, as he was called, lived in charge.

Jem had been in the West India merchant's service from a boy, and no one was more surprised than he when on the death of old Topley, Josiah Christmas said to him one morning,--

"Wimble, you had better take poor old Topley's place."

"And--and take charge of the yard, sir?"

"Yes. I can trust you, can't I?"

"Oh, yes, sir; but--"

"Ah! Yes. You have no wife to put in the cottage."

Jem began to look foolish, and examine the lining of his hat.

"Well, sir, if it comes to that," he faltered; and there was a weak comical aspect in his countenance which made Don burst out laughing.

"I know, uncle," he cried, "he has got a sweetheart."

"Well, Master Don," said the young man, colouring up; "and nothing to be ashamed on neither."

"Certainly not," said the merchant quietly. "You had better get married, Wimble, and you can have the cottage. I will buy and lend you old Topley's furniture."

Wimble begged pardon afterwards, for on hearing all this astounding news, he rushed out of the office, pulled off his leather apron, put on his coat as he ran, and disappeared for an hour, at the end of which time he returned, went mysteriously up to Don and whispered,--

"It's all right, sir; she says she will."

The result was that Jem Wimble looked twice as important, and cocked his cocked hat on one side, for he had ten shillings a week more, and the furnished cottage, kept the keys, kept the men's time, and married a wife who bore a most extraordinary likeness to a pretty little bantam hen.

This was three months before the scene just described, but though Jem spoke in authoritative tones to the men, it was with bated breath to his little wife, who was standing in the doorway looking as fierce as a kitten, when Jem walked up in company with his young master.

"Which I will not find fault before Master Lindon, Jem," she said; "but you know I do like you to be home punctual to tea."

"Yes, my dear, of course, of course," said Jem, apologetically. "Not much past time, and had to shut up first."

"That's what you always say when you're late. You don't know, Master Don, what a life he leads me."

"'Tain't true, Master Don," cried Jem. "She's always a-wherritting me."

"Now I appeal to Master Don: was it me, sir, as was late? There's the tea ready, and the bread and butter cut, and the watercresses turning limp, and the flies getting at the s'rimps. It arn't your fault, sir, I know, and I'm not grumbling, but there never was such a place as this for flies."

"It's the sugar, Sally," said Don, who had sauntered aimlessly in with Jem, and as he stared round the neat little kitchen with the pleasant meal all ready, he felt as if he should like to stay to tea instead of going home.

"Yes, it's the sugar, sir, I know; and you'd think it would sweeten some people's temper, but it don't."

"Which if it's me you mean, and you're thinking of this morning--"

"Which I am, Jem, and you ought to be ashamed. You grumbled over your breakfast, and you reg'larly worried your dinner, and all on account of a button."

"Well, then, you should sew one on. When a man's married he does expect to find buttons on his clean shirts."

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