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- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
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Under one of these trees they reined up after a ride of two hours, and picketing their horses, prepared breakfast. It was soon despatched, and then remounting, away they went once more over the beautiful plains.
About mid-day, as they were hasting towards the shelter of a grove which appeared opportunely on the horizon, Barney said suddenly—
“Martin, lad, we’re lost! We’re out of our course, for sartin.”
“I’ve been thinking that for some time, Barney,” replied Martin; “but you have your compass, and we can surely make the coast by dead reckoning—eh?”
“True, lad, we can; but it’ll cost us a dale o’ tackin’ to make up for lee-way. Ah, good luck to ye! here’s a friend’ll help us.”
As he spoke a herd of wild cattle dashed out of the grove and scampered over the plain, followed by a herdsman on horseback. Seeing that he was in eager pursuit of an animal which he wished to lasso, they followed him quietly and watched his movements. Whirling the noose round his head, he threw it adroitly in such a manner that the bull put one of its legs within the coil. Then he reined up suddenly, and the animal was thrown on its back. At the same moment the lasso broke, and the bull recovered its feet and continued its wild flight.
“Good day, friend,” said Barney, galloping towards the disappointed herdsman and addressing him in Portuguese, “could you show us the road to Rio? We’ve lost it intirely.”
The man pointed sulkily in the direction in which they were going, and, having mended his lasso, he wheeled about and galloped after the herd of cattle.
“Bad luck to yer manners!” said Barney, as he gazed after him. “But what can ye expect from the poor critter? He niver larned better. Come along, Martin, we’ll rest here a while.”
They were soon under the shelter of the trees, and having fastened their horses to one of them, they proceeded to search for water. While thus employed, Barney shouted to his companion, “Come here, lad; look here.”
There was something in the tone of the Irishman’s voice that startled Martin, and he sprang hastily towards him. Barney was standing with his arms crossed upon his chest and his head bowed forward, as he gazed with a solemn expression on the figure of a man at his feet.
“Is he ill?” inquired Martin, stooping and lifting his hand. Starting back as he dropped it, he exclaimed, “Dead!”
“Ay, boy, he has gone to his last account. Look at him again, Martin. It was he who came to the mine a week ago to buy a horse, and now—.” Barney sighed as he stooped and turned the body over in order to ascertain whether he had been murdered; but there were no marks of violence to be seen. There was bread too in his wallet; so they could come to no other conclusion than that the unhappy man had been seized with fatal illness in the lonesome wood and died there.
As they searched his clothes they found a small leathern bag, which, to their amazement was filled with gold-dust; and in the midst of the gold was another smaller bag containing several small diamonds.
“Ha!” exclaimed Martin, “that explains his hurry. No doubt he had made off with these, and was anxious to avoid pursuit.”
“No doubt of it,” said Barney. “Well, thief or no thief, we must give the poor cratur’ dacent burial. There’s not a scrap o’ paper to tell who he is or where he came from,—a sure sign that he wasn’t what he should ha’ been. Ah! Martin, what will we not do for the sake o’ money! and, after all, we can’t keep it long. May the Almighty niver let you or me set our hearts on it.”
They dug a shallow grave with their hands in a sandy spot where the soil was loose, in which they deposited the body of the unfortunate man; and then remounting their horses, rode away and left him in his lonely resting-place.
For many days did Martin and Barney travel through the land on horseback, now galloping over open campos, anon threading their way through the forest, and sometimes toiling slowly up the mountain sides. The aspect of the country varied continually as they advanced, and the feelings of excessive hilarity with which they commenced the journey began to subside as they became accustomed to it.
One evening they were toiling slowly up a steep range of hills, which had been the prospect in front of them the whole of that day. As they neared the summit of the range Martin halted at a stream to drink, and Barney advanced alone. Suddenly Martin was startled by a loud cry, and looking up he saw Barney on his knees with his hands clasped before him! Rushing up the hill, Martin found his comrade with his face flushed and the tears coursing down his cheeks as he stared before him.
“Look at it Martin, dear!” he cried, starting up and flinging his cap in the air, and shouting like a madman. “The say! my own native illiment! the beautiful ocean! Och, darlint my blessing on ye! Little did I think to see you more,—hooray!”
Barney sang and danced till he sank down on the grass exhausted; and, to say truth, Martin felt much difficulty in restraining himself from doing likewise, for before him was spread out the bright ocean, gleaming in the light of the sinking sun, and calm and placid as a mirror. It was indeed a glorious sight to these two sailors, who had not seen the sea for nearly two years. It was like coming suddenly face to face—after a long absence—with an old and much-loved friend.
Although visible, the sea, however, was still a long way off from the Serra dos Orgos, on which they stood. But their steeds were good, and it was not long ere they were both rolling like dolphins in the beautiful bay of Rio de Janeiro.
Here Barney delivered up the gold and diamonds to his employer, who paid him liberally for his services and entertained them both hospitably while they remained in the city. The bag of gold and diamonds, which had been found on the body of the dead man, they appropriated, as it was absolutely impossible to discover the rightful owner. Barney’s friend bought it of them at full price; and when they embarked, soon after, on board a homeward bound ship, each had four hundred pounds in his pocket!
As they sailed out of the noble harbour Martin sat on the poop gazing at the receding shore while thick-coming memories crowded on his brain.
His imagination flew back to the day when he first landed on the coast, and escaped with his friend Barney from the pirates,—to the hermit’s cottage in the lonely valley, where he first made acquaintance with monkeys, iguanas, jaguars, armadillos, and all the wonderful, beautiful, and curious birds, beasts, and reptiles, plants, trees, and flowers, that live and flourish in that romantic country. Once more, in fancy, he was sailing up the mighty Amazon, shooting alligators on its banks, spearing fish in its waters, paddling through its curious gapo, and swinging in his hammock under its luxuriant forests. Once again he was a prisoner among the wild Indians, and he started convulsively as he thought of the terrible leap over the precipice into the stream that flowed into the heart of the earth. Then he wandered in the lonely forest. Suddenly the diamond mines were before him, and Barney’s jovial voice rang in his ears; and he replied to it with energy, for now he was bounding on a fiery steed over the grassy campos. With a deep sigh he awoke from his reverie to find himself surrounded by the great wide sea.
Arthur Jollyboy, Esquire, of the Old Hulk, sat on the top of a tall three-legged stool in his own snug little office in the sea-port town of Bilton, with his legs swinging to and fro; his socks displayed a considerable way above the tops of his gaiters; his hands thrust deep into his breeches pockets; his spectacles high on his bald forehead, and his eyes looking through the open letter that lay before him; through the desk underneath it; through the plank floor, cellars and foundations of the edifice; and through the entire world into the distant future beyond.
“Four thousand pair of socks,” he murmured, pulling down his spectacles and consulting the open letter for the tenth time: “four thousand pair of socks, with the hitch, same as last bale, but a very little coarser in material.”
“Four thousand pair! and who’s to make them, I wonder. If poor Mrs Dorothy Grumbit were here—ah! well, she’s gone, so it can’t be helped. Four thousand!—dear me who will make them. Do you know?”
This question was addressed to his youngest clerk, who sat on the opposite side of the desk staring at Mr Jollyboy with that open impudence of expression peculiar to young puppy-dogs whose masters are unusually indulgent.
“No, sir, I don’t,” said the clerk with a broad grin.
Before the perplexed merchant could come at any conclusion on this knotty subject the door opened and Martin Rattler entered the room, followed by his friend Barney O’Flannagan.
“You’ve come to the wrong room, friends,” said Mr Jollyboy with a benignant smile. “My principal clerk engages men and pays wages. His office is just opposite; first door in the passage.”
“We don’t want to engage,” said Martin; “we wish to speak with you, sir.”
“Oh, beg pardon!” cried Mr Jollyboy, leaping off the stool with surprising agility for a man of his years. “Come in this way. Pray be seated—Eh! ah, surely I’ve seen you before, my good fellow?”
“Yis, sir, that ye have. I’ve sailed aboard your ships many a time. My name’s Barney O’Flannagan, at yer sarvice.”
“Ah! I recollect; and a good man you are, I’ve been told, Barney; but I have lost sight of you for some years. Been on a long voyage, I suppose?”
“Well, not ’xactly; but I’ve been on a long cruise, an’ no mistake, in the woods o’ Brazil I wos wrecked on the coast there, in the Firefly.”
“Ah, to be sure. I remember. And your young messmate here, was he with you?”
“Yes, sir, I was,” said Martin, answering for himself; “and I had once the pleasure of your acquaintance. Perhaps if you look steadily in my face you may—”
“Ah, then! don’t try to bamboozle him. He might as well look at a bit o’ mahogany as at your faygur-head. Tell him at wance, Martin, dear.”
“Martin?” exclaimed the puzzled old gentleman, seizing the young sailor by the shoulders and gazing intently into his face. “Martin! Martin! Surely not—yes! eh! Martin Rattler?”
“Ay that am I, dear Mr Jollyboy, safe and sound, and—”
Martin’s speech was cut short in consequence of his being violently throttled by Mr Jollyboy, who flung his arms round his neck and staggered recklessly about the office with him! This was the great point which Barney had expected; it was the climax to which he had been looking forward all the morning: and it did not come short of his anticipations; for Mr Jollyboy danced round Martin and embraced him for at least ten minutes, asking him at the same time a shower of questions which he gave him no time to answer. In the excess of his delight Barney smote his thigh with his broad hand so forcibly that it burst upon the startled clerk like a pistol-shot, and caused him to spring off his stool!
“Don’t be afeared, young un,”
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