In Search of Treasure

CHAPTER VII

GUY RECEIVES A COMMISSION

“Not going back on the Osprey?” exclaimed Captain Grover, in great surprise.

“No, sir. Mr. Saunders wishes to retain me in his employment.”

“But are you aware that the climate of Bombay is very trying to a foreigner?”

“I do not expect to stay in Bombay.”

“I thought you were intending to remain with your present employer?”

“I expect to remain in his employ, but he will very soon send me to England on business.”

Captain Grover looked still more amazed.

“Does he know how old you are?” he asked, abruptly.

“He knows how young I am,” answered Guy, with a smile. “Still, he seems to have confidence in me.”

“I suppose I shall have to give my consent, Guy. I hold myself in a manner responsible, for you, as you left home under my charge. Still, I can see that Mr. Saunders is likely to prove a good friend to you. How much does he pay you?”

“Thus far he has paid me twenty-five dollars a week.”

“You can hardly expect that he will pay you such large wages when you are traveling.”

“On the contrary, he says he will pay me more.”

“Either you are a very smart boy, or he overrates you greatly.”

“Suppose we say the first?” said Guy, smiling.

“Well, perhaps so. How long are you to stay in England?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“From there where will you go?”

“To Boston or New York.”

Captain Grover looked relieved.

“I want to be able to tell your father that you are all right. He will naturally feel anxious when he thinks that you are alone in a distant country.”

“I don’t know about that. He always had considerable confidence in my ability to get along.”

“He didn’t know anything about your crazy idea of hunting for a pirate’s treasure, did he?”

“I never mentioned the matter to him, and I hope you will not. He gave me permission to search Uncle George’s sea chest, but I never told him what I found in it. You know, captain, he is a very absent-minded man. I presume he has never thought of the matter from that day to this.”

“I am glad you have given up the notion of hunting for a treasure which very likely does not exist.”

“Have I?” said Guy to himself; but he only smiled.

He had never said anything to Captain Grover about Mr. Saunders’ plans, or about the thousand pounds which the merchant had paid over to him. He knew that the captain would rejoice in his good fortune, but he wanted to bide his time and surprise his friends, at home with the story of his luck.

He felt that already he was worth enough money to help his father materially in case Deacon Crane should succeed in his efforts to have him ousted from his parish in favor of a younger man.

On the day that the Osprey was to weigh anchor Guy remained on board, with Mr. Saunders’ permission, till the good ship had fairly left her dock.

As he watched her gradually fading out of sight, and realized that he was perhaps eight thousand miles from home, with none of his old friends near him, he felt homesick for a short time, but soon the thought of his wonderful good fortune cheered him up, and he went back to the office full of exhilaration and hope.

In about a week the sick clerk, whose place Guy had taken, returned, and a few days later Guy embarked on an English steamer, bound for Liverpool.

On the departure of the Osprey he had taken up his residence at the house of Mr. Saunders, who was a widower. A maiden sister kept house for him.

“I want you with me,” said the merchant, “partly because it will be more homelike for you than a hotel, and partly because I shall have a better chance to instruct you in the business which you are to transact for me in London.”

Guy learned that Mr. Saunders was special partner in the London firm of Russell & Co., and had constant transactions with them.

A part of Guy’s instructions related to business to be done with them. He had thought that this would be all, but he was mistaken.

One evening, after supper, Mr. Saunders said: “I have given you directions as to business matters, but I have another affair, requiring discretion and good judgment on your part, in which I shall require your help.”

“I shall do my best, sir.”

“I am sure of that. You must know that three years since I was informed of the death of an old schoolmate, Herbert Bell. We had been very intimate in school, and retained an interest in each other, though our paths in life differed materially.

“He became a clergyman, while I entered upon a business career. His wife died before him. At his own death he left a son, about your age, I should judge, and he left him to me, beseeching me, in remembrance of our old intimacy, to look after him. This I willingly agreed to do.

“Poor Herbert left only a few hundred pounds, the income of which was quite insufficient to support and educate his son Vivian. On the whole, I was not sorry for this, as it enabled me to be of even more service to my friend’s boy.

“I would have been glad to send for him and bring him up under my own eye, but I didn’t dare to expose his health to this dangerous climate. I therefore placed him at school about fifty miles from London.

“I had been so long absent from England that I knew nothing of the schools there, but trusted to my business correspondent to find one that was satisfactory.

“He was placed at an academy kept by Dr. Peter Musgrave, whom I supposed a fitting guardian for the orphan boy.

“You see, I trusted to the judgment of my business associate. I have had little or no direct communication with or about Vivian, but, immersed in business, took it for granted that all things were going on as they should.

“My first doubt came when, about a month since, I received a letter from the boy, which I will show you.”

He took from his desk a letter, written in a schoolboy hand, which he gave to Guy to read. It ran as follows:

My dear Guardian:

I have been wanting for a good while to write to you about the way I am treated by Dr. Musgrave. He seems to have taken a great dislike to me, and uses me cruelly. I am sure it is not because of my conduct, because I try to obey the rules of the school. But I once complained of his son, Simon, who was in the habit of ordering me about, and who regularly made me give him half of my pocket money. Simon denied that this was so, and his father chose to believe him. The result was that I was flogged, and from that time I have been ill treated. Scarcely a day passes without my receiving punishment. I can never be happy here, and I do hope, my dear guardian, that you will remove me to another school.

If Dr. Musgrave knew that I was writing to you he would not permit me to send the letter. I do not dare to post it myself, but have got a schoolmate to drop it in the post office for me.

This was the material portion of the letter.

As Guy read it, he felt a strong sympathy for the writer, and his indignation was excited against the tyrannical schoolmaster.

His lips closed firmly, and there was an angry light in his eyes.

“Dr. Musgrave wouldn’t have treated me in that way,” he said.

“No, I think not. You have evidently plenty of pluck. But Vivian probably takes after his father, who was of a gentle and retiring disposition. He never asserted himself, and always seemed to me to be lacking in proper spirit.

“Since I received this letter I have felt uneasy, and wished that I were in England to investigate Vivian’s complaints, and, if necessary, remove him from the school.”

“I wish you had done so at once, Mr. Saunders.”

“I had no one whom I could call upon to act for me. This letter came since I made your acquaintance, and it was this partly that led me to think of sending you to England. You will go as my representative, with full power to act in my place, as your judgment may dictate.

“I have an idea that the boy is delicate, and wish you to consult a physician. If the doctor recommends a few months spent in travel, I may allow you to take him with you to America.”

“I should be a young guardian, Mr. Saunders. I think you said he was about my age.”

“Probably he is a year younger. At any rate, in all essential points you are several years older. I have not known you long, but I have confidence in your judgment. As to the expenses, I shall authorize you to draw upon my London correspondent for whatever money you may need.”

“I will gladly undertake the commission, Mr. Saunders. I think I can promise that your ward will have no complaints to make of me. Shall you have any business for me to attend to in New York?”

“In all probability I shall have. My New York correspondent is Gilbert Frazer, whose office is opposite Bowling Green. Have you ever been in New York?”

“No, sir; but I have no doubt I shall be able to attend to whatever business there you may place in my hands.”

“I have no doubt of it. Where is your home?”

“In Bayport. That is a village in Massachusetts, not far from New Bedford.”

Mr. Saunders made a note of this.

“I will give you further instructions, should any occur to me,” he said. “Now we had best retire.”

CHAPTER VIII

FROM BOMBAY TO LIVERPOOL

On the steamer which left Bombay with Guy as a passenger he occupied one of the best staterooms, which had been selected by Mr. Saunders himself.

The voyage was a long one, and Guy had abundant opportunity to become acquainted with his fellow passengers.

Among them was a young Englishman, perhaps twenty-five years of age, named August Locke. The rest were old or middle-aged men, and it was natural that Locke and Guy should become more closely acquainted than the others.

On the first day, August Locke made overtures to Guy.

“I am glad,” he said, “that there is one young person on board besides myself. Suppose we become friends?”

“I shall be glad to know you better,” replied Guy. “I was beginning to feel lonesome.”

“You are English, like myself?”

“No; I am an American.”

“And traveling alone? Why, you can’t be much over sixteen!”

“That is my age.”

“It seems strange to me that a boy of your age should be traveling alone so far from home.”

“I sometimes wonder at it myself.”

“It can’t be for health, for you are fresh and blooming.”

“No. Suppose I say that it is on business?”

“Then all I can say is that you Americans begin life much earlier than we English. Why, at your age I was attending school in England.”

“What school did you attend?”

“The school of Dr. Peter Musgrave, not far from London.”

“I am very glad to hear it.”

“Why?” asked Locke, with a puzzled look.

“Because there is a boy at that school in whom I am interested.”

“An American boy?”

“No; a ward of my employer. He has received complaints that the boy is ill treated, and has sent me to inquire into the matter. If you can tell me something of the school I shall be very much obliged.”

“I can’t say much good of it. Dr. Musgrave is an ill-tempered man, of small acquirements, whose delight it is to tyrannize over the boys under his charge. I have received more than one flogging from him, wantonly inflicted, without my deserving it.”

“You would not send any boy there in whom you were interested?”

“Most certainly not!”

“Then I shall probably withdraw Vivian from the school.”

“You speak as if you were his guardian, and had full powers.”

“So I have; and I suppose I may call myself his guardian, since the responsibility has been given me by Mr. Saunders.”

“Are you speaking of the great Bombay merchant?”

“Yes.”

“He seems to repose a great deal of confidence in you.”

“He does,” answered Guy.

“This seems strange, since you are an American.”

“Yet you are disposed to be my friend,” said Guy, smiling, “in spite of this drawback.”

“True.”

“I will show you a letter written by the boy to Mr. Saunders, and you can give me your opinion of it.”

August Locke cast his eyes over the letter of Vivian Bell already quoted in a previous chapter.

“Poor chap!” said the young Englishman. “He does seem to be having a hard time of it.”

“Can you tell me anything about Simon Musgrave, the doctor’s son?”

“Not much. When I was at school he was a small boy in knickerbockers. He was old enough, however, to show that he was a chip of the old block, and inherited his father’s unpleasant traits. That he would bully a boy whom he disliked I can readily believe. I remember once giving him a thrashing for impertinence. I got flogged for it by the doctor, but I had the consolation of knowing that I had hurt Simon quite as much as his father hurt me.”

“I don’t think he would bully me.”

“You don’t look like a boy that would allow himself to be bullied. I suppose this Vivian Bell is a different sort of boy.”

“Yes; Mr. Saunders tells me that his father had a gentle disposition, and thinks the son may resemble him in that respect. His father was a clergyman.”

“That explains it.”

“I don’t think so. I, too, am the son of a clergyman; but I hope I have some spirit.”

“I am very sure you have. Anyone could tell that from your manner and bearing.”

“Did you continue at the school till your education was finished?”

“No. My father withdrew me, partly because the doctor got ‘down on me,’ as the saying is, and partly because he was led to think the pupils didn’t learn much.”

“I suppose you don’t revere the memory of your old teacher?”

“I have often wished that I could get hold of him and repay with interest some of the floggings which I received from him as a boy.”

Guy was glad to have obtained, before arriving in England, some information in regard to the school which Vivian Bell was attending. Now that he knew for certain that the complaints the boy made were justified, he was in a hurry to release him from the tyrannical rule under which he was suffering.

“When I go out to Dr. Musgrave’s school, Mr. Locke,” he said, “I wish you would come with me.”

“Perhaps I may; I should like to see the old place. My memories of it are not all disagreeable. Some of the boys were friends of mine, and I remember them with attachment. I am one who does not forget old friends.”

“I am sure not.”

“Then I should like to see the doctor again. When we parted I was a boy of fifteen, and I stood in fear of his superior strength. Now–” and he smiled as he rose to his full height and stretched out his muscular arms.

“Now, you would be more than a match for him,” suggested Guy.

“I think there is no doubt of that. I have been growing stronger, until I am much more powerful than he was at his best, while the years that have elapsed—ten—have probably diminished his vigor.”

During the voyage Guy and August Locke had many pleasant conversations. Guy learned that he was the nephew of a Glasgow merchant, and that his visit to Bombay had been on business.

“You are Scotch?” said Guy.

“My mother was English, so that I am only half Scotch.”

Among the passengers on board was another American, but he was a man of sixty. He seemed a cynical man, who, strangely enough, appeared to conceive a dislike for his young countryman.

Indeed, he had no sympathy with young people, whom he thought to be utterly destitute of judgment. His curiosity was excited by finding a boy of Guy’s age traveling alone, and he plied him with questions till he found out that he was in the employ of John Saunders of Bombay.

“Couldn’t Mr. Saunders find an older representative than you?” he asked, in an unpleasant tone.

“I have no doubt he might, sir.”

“Then he was a fool to confide his business to a mere boy.”

Guy was not offended, but he was amused.

“Do you know Mr. Saunders, sir?” he asked.

“I have met him—in a business way.”

“Did he impress you as a fool?” asked Guy, demurely.

Solon Johnson eyed the boy sharply. He was not quite sure whether he was being made fun of or not.

“I can’t call him that,” he answered, “for he has been successful in business and made a large fortune.”

“Yet he has appointed me his agent.”

“Yes, he has shown his folly there.”

“I suppose if you had known him well enough you would have dissuaded him from doing it?”

“I certainly should. I don’t mean any reflection upon you, young man, but it stands to reason that a boy of your age is unfit for any large responsibility.”

“Perhaps you are right,” said Guy, a little nettled, “but I shall endeavor to show that he made no mistake.”

“I can’t understand at all how such a man should have made such a blunder. Were you ever in business before you left America?”

“No, sir.”

“What could possibly have recommended you to Mr. Saunders?”

Guy could easily have satisfied his curiosity, but he did not propose to do so.

“We became acquainted, sir, and he employed me in his office in Bombay. So he had some opportunity of becoming familiar with my capacity for business.”

“What did he pay you?”

Guy felt that this was going too far. He did not care to gratify Mr. Johnson’s impertinent curiosity.

“You must excuse my answering that question, Mr. Johnson,” he said.

“Oh, well, just as you please. If you were in my office in Boston I should not think of offering you more than five dollars a week.”

“Then, sir, I think I shall hardly be likely to apply to you for employment.”

“I don’t think much of your countryman, Guy,” said August Locke, when they were alone.

“Nor do I, Mr. Locke. I wonder which is right in his estimate of me—Mr. Saunders or he.”

“Mr. Saunders, I am sure.”

“Thank you for your good opinion.”

At length the long voyage was over, and with a thrill of interest and excitement Guy stepped on the wharf at Liverpool.

CHAPTER IX

GUY ARRIVES IN LONDON

In company with his new acquaintance, August Locke, Guy pushed on to London. He knew nothing about hotels, but by the advice of Locke he secured a room at the Charing Cross.

The next morning he called at the offices of Mr. Saunders’ correspondent, Mr. Russell.

These offices were in a solid and heavy-looking building, quite different from the business structures to be found in American cities.

Guy entered, and was asked his business by the clerk, who looked as if he might have come from Glasgow or some other Scotch city.

“I wish to see Mr. Russell,” answered Guy.

“You can give me your message.”

“I might, but I don’t think I shall. I wish to see Mr. Russell personally.”

“Mr. Russell does not see boys,” said the clerk, in an important tone. “What firm are you with?”

“Mr. John Saunders of Bombay.”

The clerk opened wide his eyes in astonishment.

“As I have come some thousands of miles to see Mr. Russell, I hope he will grant me an interview,” Guy added.

“Do you come from Bombay?” asked the clerk, in an altered tone.

“Yes.”

“Who came with you?”

“Quite a number of passengers,” answered Guy, coolly, “but I don’t see what concern that is of yours.”

“You are a hextraordinary boy,” said the Scotch clerk, who had been long enough in London to acquire the Cockney accent.

“Thank you for the compliment, but I should like to see Mr. Russell.”