CHAPTER XL.
HUNSTON'S PERIL--BLACK VISIONS--A DREAM OF VENGEANCE--ANUNKNOWN DANGER TO THE "WESTWARD HO!"
An explanation of the foregoing is scarcely necessary, we believe.
You bear in mind, of course, that Hunston was utterly ignorant of themiraculous escape of his destined victims--young Jack and HarryGirdwood.
You must bear in mind, too, that although you, friend reader, may givea shrewd guess at the truth, Hunston had not the remotest notion ofwhere he was.
This said, you may perhaps understand the fearful effect of this wakingvision upon the guilty wretch.
Bear in mind that he had been lurking in a close and stifling hold,into which no single ray of sunlight penetrated, for three wholedays--three long nights.
Unwelcome conscience tapped and would not be deceived.
A man with the guilt of Hunston upon his mind could not afford to bealone--nay, nor in the dark either.
* * * * *
When he recovered consciousness, his first sensations were of burningin the throat, and opening his eyes, he found himself being caredtenderly for by one of the sailors who had brought him there.
"Come, come, I say, mister," said the honest tar, who had had a bit ofa fright on finding Hunston's condition, "this won't do, you know."
"I am better now," murmured Hunston, faintly.
"You are a little, precious little. You will have to come on deck now,and chance what the skipper says about the job."
"Yes, yes; I will," said Hunston, waking up.
"He can't kill us."
"Nor eat me," said the stowaway, with a sickly smile.
"Not he."
"Any thing is better than remaining longer here. I believe I should dieif I did."
"Then up you come at once, as sure as my name's Jack Tiller."
"Tell me, my friend," Hunston said; "whither are we bound?"
"For the Red Sea."
"Pheugh! A long cruise?"
"Well, yes."
"And then we are going further yet, and to travel on until we touch thecoast of Australy."
"The deuce!"
"That's it, sir."
"What's the name of the vessel?"
The sailor laughed.
"What makes you grin?"
"Why, I was wondering, messmate, why you never asked that before."
"My thoughts were too full of getting away."
"Ah, of course."
"What is her name?"
"The 'Westward Ho!' She was formerly the 'Seamew,' and the ownerrechristened her."
"What's his name?"
"The skipper's? Why, captain John Willoughby."
"The owner's?"
"Mr. Jack Harkaway."
Had a thunderbolt dropped down in the hold between them, Hunston couldnot have been more astonished.
"What?"
His tone startled the sailor.
He saw it, and he did his utmost to calm himself.
"Who did you say?"
"Who?" echoed the sailor. "Why, who but Mr. Jack Harkaway? He's wellknown enough. Surely you don't mean for to go for to say as you neverheard of him?"
"I--I think I have heard the name," muttered Hunston.
"Think! Well, so do I, unless you've been shut up in solitaryconfinement for the last fifteen years. Blow me tight, but the man thathadn't heard of Mr. Jack Harkaway, would be a living curiosity."
"Jack Harkaway the owner of this ship!" Hunston murmured, like one in adream, and relapsed into silence once more.
No wonder that he had seen that vision.
No wonder that the spirit of the murdered boy, young Jack, should hoverabout the vessel where his destroyer was hiding--in which his father,mother, and all that he held dear in life were journeying.
The situation grew graver than ever.
It was truly an alarming plight, and the more he thought it over, themore desperate did he become.
"Jack Tiller," said he.
"Your honour."
"I'll stay where I am."
"Oh, very good," replied the tar; "mum's the word. I thought your berthwasn't over cheerful."
Jack Tiller gave a hoist at his slacks, and with something between asigh and a grunt, he wheeled round and went on deck.
* * * * *
"If I could only see my way out of this, I should like better than anything to fire the ship," said Hunston, to himself; "fire it and watchit close by, chuckling at them while they roasted. What a gloriousreturn it would be for them. By the powers, it is about the only thingI could do to wipe them all off at once, all, all! Jack, Harvey, Emily,that Yankee braggart--curse him!"
And Hunston sat brooding in the black and evil-smelling hold day afterday.
The only companion of his solitude being his own dark thoughts, hisvicious resolves for vengeance.
"It is my own cursed ill-luck," he would say to himself again andagain, "to be beholden to this Harkaway for my life. Why, even now, hehas saved me again, saved me in spite of himself. That's the merry sideof the question."
Merry as it was, it never made him smile.
One dreadful thought filled his poor mind.
One fearful fancy took such complete possession of him, that day andnight he was brooding on it.
"Once let me see a clear landing," he would mutter to himself, "oncelet me see my way straight to get ashore in a safe place, and then I'llmake the 'Westward Ho!' too hot to hold them. Too hot--ah, yes, aprecious deal too hot to hold them, that I would; for I would make upsuch a blaze as they would never be able to extinguish."
And so he began devoting himself to the arrangements for thisvillainous purpose.
What is more, he got all his plans mapped out, all ready for theexecution of this most diabolical deed.
Little did the happy passengers in the "Westward Ho!" dream of thefatal danger threatening them.
They would not have enjoyed so many sweet slumbers, could they have hadthe faintest inkling of the truth--if they had suspected that near themwas the villain Hunston, following them with a deadly purpose ofrevenge, which seemed to have increased year by year ever since theschooldays of Jack Harkaway.