CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
SAYING "GOOD-BYE!"
Days of practice with my gun followed, and then two or three moreafternoons in the mouth of the Thames, my uncle always selecting theroughest days for that purpose; but after a time or two I quite got overmy dread of the water, and was ready enough to hold the sheet or takethe tiller, picking up very rapidly a knowledge of how to steer so as toease the boat over the waves that would take us on the beam; learninghow to tack and go about: and a dozen other little matters highlynecessary for one who attempts the management of a boat.
And then the day of parting came, for Uncle Dick had made all hispreparations, which were after all very simple, consisting as they didof two or three changes of clothes, plenty of ammunition, tools forskinning birds and animals, an abundant supply of preserving paste, andsome medicines.
It was arranged that we were to go by one of the French steamers fromMarseilles, to catch which we had of course to cross France, and then weintended to travel by one of the Peninsular and Oriental steamers toSingapore after crossing the Isthmus of Suez, for this was long beforeMonsieur de Lesseps had thrust spade into the sand.
"Get the good-byes over quickly, Nat," said Uncle Dick; and this I didas far as my Aunt Sophy was concerned, though she did kiss me and seemmore affectionate than usual.
But it was different with poor Uncle Joseph, and had I known how hewould take it to heart I'm afraid that I should have thought twice overbefore making up my mind to go.
"I can hardly believe it, Nat, my boy," he said in a husky voice. "Itdon't seem natural for you to be going away, my boy, and I don't knowhow I shall get on without you."
As he spoke he held my hands in his, and though he was pretending to bevery cheerful, I could see that he was greatly troubled, and after allhis kindness to me I felt as if I was behaving cruelly and ungratefullyin the extreme.
"But I'm not going to grieve about you, Nat, my boy," he said quitecheerfully, "and here's your knife."
As he spoke he drew a splendid great jack-knife out of his pocket,hauling out a quantity of white cord to which it was attached, andproceeding to fasten it round my waist.
"There, Nat, my boy," he said, "it was the best I could get you; and theman says it is a splendid bit of stuff. Do you like it, Nat--do youlike it?"
"Oh, uncle," I said, "it is too kind of you!"
"Not a bit, my boy, not a bit; and now make good use of it, and growstrong and big, and come back as clever a man as your uncle, and I knowyou will."
There is a bit of history to that knife, for it was only the day beforethat he and I and Uncle Dick were together, and Uncle Joe wanted to makeme a present.
"There, Nat," said Uncle Joe, drawing his heavy gold watch out of thefob by its watered-silk ribbon with the handsomely chased gold key andlarge topaz seal at the end, "I shall give you that watch, my boy, for akeepsake. Take it, Nat, and put it in your pocket; keep it out ofsight, my boy, till you have gone. I shall tell your aunt afterwards,but she mightn't like it, you know, and it would be a littleunpleasant."
"But I don't like to take your watch, uncle," I said, glad as I shouldhave been to have it, for it seemed too bad to take it away.
"Quite right, Nat," said Uncle Dick; "don't take it."
"Not take it!" said Uncle Joe in a disappointed tone.
"No; he does not want a watch, Joe. Where he is going he must make thesun his watch."
"Yes," said Uncle Joe quickly, "but how about the night?"
"Then he'll have to sleep and rest himself for the next day's work."
"And how about getting up in good time?"
"Daylight's the good time for getting up, Joe," said Uncle Dick; "andthe sun will tell him the time."
"Ah!" cried Uncle Joe triumphantly, "but the sun does not always shine."
"No, not here," replied Uncle Dick. "You have too much smoke and fog.We are going where he shines almost too much. Here, put away yourwatch, Joe. It is of no use to a boy who will be journeying through theprimeval forest, plunging through thorny undergrowth or bog, or fordingrivers and letting his clothes dry on him afterwards."
"But I should have liked him to have the watch," said Uncle Joe, rubbingone side of his nose softly with the case.
"Leave it for him in your will, then, my boy," said Uncle Dick. "Hewants nothing that will encumber him, and your watch would only be anuisance when the water had soaked in. Leave it to him in your will."
"Yes," said Uncle Joseph, "but I should have liked to give him somethingelse to make him always remember me when he's away."
"Why, Uncle Joe," I cried, with a curious choking feeling coming in mythroat, "you don't think I could ever forget you?"
"No, my boy, no," he said, shaking my hand very heartily, and thenlaying the watch down, as if he didn't care to take to it again.
"It's very kind of you, Joe," said Uncle Dick, for he saw how hisbrother-in-law seemed hurt; "but don't you see, my dear boy, we aregoing to lead the roughest of rough lives, and what we carry at a timewhen every extra ounce will be a trouble, must be the barestnecessities. I've often had to leave behind valuable things, solelybecause I could not carry them. Here, I tell you what: you go into thecity to-morrow, and buy him one of the best, and biggest, and strongestjack-knives you can find; one of those with a steel loop so that it canhang handily from a lanyard, ready for any purpose from cutting hisbreakfast to hacking a way through the canes, or skinning a wild beast.You could not give him a better present than that."
"To be sure," cried Uncle Joe, brightening up, "I will. What kind of ahandle would you like, Nat?"
"Never mind the handle, Joe; look to the blade. Let it be a thoroughlygood bit of stuff, the best you can buy."
"To be sure. Yes; to be sure," cried Uncle Joe; and taking up his watchhe lowered it so carelessly into its place that it missed the fob, andran down the right leg of his trousers into his Wellington boot.
I had to turn boot-jack and drag the boot off before the watch could berecovered, Uncle Dick laughing heartily the while.
And now this was the knife the good, amiable old fellow had got for me,and certainly it was one that would stand me in good stead for anylength of time.
"Good-bye, Joe, old fellow," said Uncle Dick, gripping his hand fast."I'll take care of Nat."
"Yes, yes, you will, won't you?" he cried.
"Indeed I will, Joe, indeed I will; and now once more good-bye, oldfellow, I'm off. Till we meet again. Come after me soon, Nat."
Uncle Dick went away so as to leave us together, and no sooner were wealone than Uncle Joe hesitated for a moment, and then hugged me to hisbreast.
"Good-bye; God bless you, my boy!" he cried. "It's all for the best,and I won't worry about your going; only come back to me as soon as youcan, and mind you write."
I can remember that there was a curious dim look about everything justthen, and that Uncle Dick was very quiet in the cab; and so he was inthe train, speaking to me hardly at all, and afterwards he read tohimself nearly all the way to Paris, after which he suddenly seemed toturn merry and bright, and chatted to me in the heartiest way.
Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern Seas Page 15