Hetty Wesley | Page 2

eyes. "Only I thought perhaps--at such a
moment--old scenes, old associations--and you leaving us for ever, sir!"
"Tut, nonsense! You have something to say to me. Anything
forgotten?"
"Nothing in the way of business, sir. But it occurred to me--" Mr.
MacNab lowered his voice, "--Your good lady, up at the burial-ground.
You will excuse me--at such a time: but it may be years before I am
spared to return home, and if I can do anything in the way of looking
after the grave, I shall be proud. Oh no--" he went on hurriedly with a
flushed face: "for love, sir; for love, of course: or, as I should rather say,
for old sake's sake, if that's not too bold. It would be a privilege, Mr.
Annesley."
Samuel Annesley stood considering his late confidential clerk with bent
brows. "I am much obliged to you, MacNab; but in this matter you
must do as you please. You are right in supposing that I was sincerely
attached to my wife--"
"Indeed yes, sir."
"But I have none of the sentiment you give me credit for. 'Let the dead
bury the dead'--that is a text to which I have given some attention of
late, and I hope to profit by it in--in the future."

"Well, God bless you, Mr. Annesley!"
"I thank you. We are delaying the boat, I fear. No"--as Mr. MacNab
made an offer to accompany him--"I prefer to go alone. We have
shaken hands already. The room is ready for Mr. Menzies, when he
comes to-morrow. Good-bye."
A minute later Mr. MacNab, lingering by the window, saw him cross
the road to the landing-stage and stand for a moment in talk with the
Hindu, Bhagwan Dass. Then his straw hat disappeared down the steps.
The boat was pushed off; and Bhagwan Dass, after watching it for a
while, turned without emotion and came strolling across to the factory.
On board the Albemarle Mr. Annesley found the best cabin prepared
for him, as became his importance. He went below at once and was
only seen at meal-times during the short voyage to Bombay, a town
that of late years had almost eclipsed Surat in trade and importance.
Here Captain Bewes was to take in the bulk of his passengers and cargo,
and brought his vessel close alongside the Bund. During the three days
occupied in lading and stowing little order was maintained, and the
decks lay open to a promiscuous crowd of coolies and porters,
waterside loafers, beggars and thieves. The officers kept an eye open
for these last: the rest they tolerated until the moment came for warping
out, when the custom was to pipe all hands and clear the ship of
intruders by a general rush.
The first two days Mr. Annesley spent upon the poop, watching the
mob with a certain scornful interest. On the third he did not appear, but
was served with tiffin in his cabin. At about six o'clock, the second
mate--a Mr. Orchard--sought the captain to report that all was ready
and waiting the word to cast off. His way led past Mr. Annesley's cabin,
and there he came upon an old mendicant stooping over the door
handle and making as if to enter and beg; whom he clouted across the
shoulders and cuffed up the companion-ladder. Mr. Orchard afterwards
remembered to have seen this same beggar man, or the image of him,
off and on during the two previous days, seated asquat against a post on
the Bund, and watching the Albemarle, with his crutch and bowl beside
him.

When the rush came, this old man, bent and blear-eyed, was swept
along the gangway like a chip on the tide. In pure lightness of heart a
sailor, posted at the head of the plank, expedited him with a kick.
"That'll do for good-bye to India," said he, grinning.
The old man showed no resentment, but was borne along bewildered,
gripping his bowl to his breast. On the quay's edge he seemed to find
his feet, and shuffled off towards the town, without once looking back
at the ship.
CHAPTER I.
"MILL--mill! A mill!"
At the entrance of Dean's Yard, Westminster, a small King's Scholar,
waving his gown and yelling, collided with an old gentleman hobbling
round the corner, and sat down suddenly in the gutter with a squeal, as
a bagpipe collapses. The old gentleman rotated on one leg like a
dervish, made an ineffectual stoop to clutch his gouty toe and wound
up by bringing his rattan cane smartly down on the boy's shoulders.
"Owgh! Owgh! Stand up, you young villain! My temper's hasty, and
here's a shilling-piece to cry quits. Stand up and tell me now--is it Fire,
Robbery, or Murder?"
The youngster pounced at the shilling, shook off the hand on