45. CHAPTER XLV.
HARRY BOLTON KIDNAPS REDBURN, AND CARRIES HIM OFF TO
LONDON.
It might have been a week after our glimpse of Lord
Lovely, that Harry, who had been expecting a letter, which,
he told me, might possibly alter his plans; one afternoon
came bounding on board the ship, and sprang down the
hatchway into the between-decks, where, in perfect solitude,
I was engaged picking oakum; at which business the mate
had set me, for want of any thing better.
“Hey for London, Wellingborough!” he cried. “Off
to-morrow! first train—be there the same night—come! I
have money to rig you all out—drop that hangman's stuff
there, and away! Pah! how it smells here! Come; up
you jump!”
I trembled with amazement and delight.
London? it could not be!—and Harry — how kind of
him! he was then indeed what he seemed. But instantly
I thought of all the circumstances of the case, and was eager
to know what it was that had induced this sudden departure.
In reply my friend told me, that he had received a remittance,
and had hopes of recovering a considerable sum,
lost in some way that he chose to conceal.
“But how am I to leave the ship, Harry?' said I;
“they will not let me go, will they? You had better
leave me behind, after all; I don't care very much about
going; and besides, I have no money to share the expenses.”
This I said, only pretending indifference, for my heart
was jumping all the time.
“Tut! my Yankee bantam,” said Harry; “look here!”
and he showed me a handful of gold.
“But they are yours, and not mine, Harry,” said I.
“Yours and mine, my sweet fellow,” exclaimed Harry.
“Come, sink the ship, and let's go!”
“But you don't consider, if I quit the ship, they'll be
sending a constable after me, won't they?”
“What! and do you think, then, they value your services
so highly? Ha! ha!—Up, up, Wellingborough: I can't
wait.”
True enough. I well knew that Captain Riga would
not trouble himself much, if I did take French leave of him.
So, without further thought of the matter, I told Harry to
wait a few moments, till the ship's bell struck four; at which
time I used to go to supper, and be free for the rest of the day.
The bell struck; and off we went. As we hurried across
the quay, and along the dock walls, I asked Harry all
about his intentions. He said, that go to London he must,
and to Bury St. Edmund's; but that whether he should for
any time remain at either place, he could not now tell; and
it was by no means impossible, that in less than a week's
time we would be back again in Liverpool, and ready for
sea. But all he said was enveloped in a mystery that I did
not much like; and I hardly know whether I have repeated
correctly what he said at the time.
Arrived at the Golden Anchor, where Harry put up, he
at once led me to his room, and began turning over the contents
of his chest, to see what clothing he might have, that
would fit me.
Though he was some years my senior, we were about the
same size—if any thing, I was larger than he; so, with a
little stretching, a shirt, vest, and pantaloons were soon
found to suit. As for a coat and hat, those Harry ran out
and bought without delay; returning with a loose, stylish
sack-coat, and a sort of foraging cap, very neat, genteel, and
unpretending.
My friend himself soon doffed his Guernsey frock, and
stood before me, arrayed in a perfectly plain suit, which he
had bought on purpose that very morning. I asked him
why he had gone to that unnecessary expense, when he had
plenty of other clothes in his chest. But he only winked,
and looked knowing. This, again, I did not like. But
I strove to drown ugly thoughts.
Till quite dark, we sat talking together; when, locking
his chest, and charging his landlady to look after it well, till
he called, or sent for it; Harry seized my arm, and we sallied
into the street.
Pursuing our way through crowds of frolicking sailors and
fiddlers, we turned into a street leading to the Exchange.
There, under the shadow of the colonnade, Harry told me to
stop, while he left me, and went to finish his toilet. Wondering
what he meant, I stood to one side; and presently
was joined by a stranger in whiskers and mustache.
“It's me,” said the stranger; and who was me but Harry,
who had thus metamorphosed himself? I asked him the
reason; and in a faltering voice, which I tried to make humorous,
expressed a hope that he was not going to turn
gentleman forger.
He laughed, and assured me that it was only a precaution
against being recognized by his own particular friends
in London, that he had adopted this mode of disguising
himself.
“And why afraid of your friends?” asked I, in astonishment,
“and we are not in London yet.”
“Pshaw! what a Yankee you are, Wellingborough.
Can't you see very plainly that I have a plan in my head?
And this disguise is only for a short time, you know. But
I'll tell you all by and by.”
I acquiesced, though not feeling at ease; and we walked
on, till we came to a public house, in the vicinity of the
place at which the cars are taken.
We stopped there that night, and next day were off,
whirled along through boundless landscapes of villages, and
meadows, and parks: and over arching viaducts, and through
wonderful tunnels; till, half delirious with excitement, I
found myself dropped down in the evening among gas-lights,
under a great roof in Euston Square.
London at last, and in the West-End!
