Ten days later, having paid all our indebtedness and converted every ounce of our gold into ready money that was deposited to the credit of “Perkins & Steele,” at the bank, we started on what Uncle Naboth called our “voyage” across the continent. We had both taken a strong liking for Ned Britton, who had stood by us so faithfully at the island; so Mr. Perkins decided to make Ned the mate of the new ship, when she had been purchased. For this reason, and because the sailor wished to revisit some of his relatives in the East and make them happy by sharing with them his prize money, Ned also traveled on the same train with us.
“Britton’s judgment will be useful in helping us to pick out a ship,” said the old man. “I’m glad he’s going with us.”
Nux and Bryonia had promptly deserted the “Flipper” as soon as they found that Captain Gay had purchased her, and I think my hardest task was to leave the simple black men behind me. They declared that they belonged to “the firm” and must be given places on the new ship, and this both Uncle Naboth and I were anxious to do, as we knew we could never again find such loyal and unselfish servants. But it would be folly to take them east until all arrangements had been made. So I found them comfortable lodgings, and supplied them with all the money they could possibly require until they were sent for. At the last moment they were at the station to see the train move away, and were so fearful of the iron monster that was to carry their friends on the journey that they cautioned me again and again to be very careful in my actions.
“’Fore all, Mars Sam,” said Nux, earnestly, “doan’ you go skeer dat injine on no ’count. W’en it’s skeert it smashes ev’ything into mush.”
“’Pears gentle ’nouf now, Sam,” added Bry; “but don’ you trust it, no how. ’Tain’t safe, like a great sail an’ a stiff breeze.”
“Right you are, lad,” cried Uncle Naboth, approvingly. “Injines is an invention of the devil, Bry, but good Christians can use ’em if they only watch out. An’ now, good-bye, an’ take care o’ yourselves till we get back or send for you.”
On account of our great wealth, Mr. Perkins had decided to take a tourist sleeping-car for the trip, rather than sit up in the seats of the common cars all night.
“Sleepin’ cars is a genuine luxury, Sam,” he said, “an’ only fit for the very rich, who’ve got so much money they won’t miss it, or the very poor, who’ve got so little there’s no use savin’ it. I guess we can afford the treat, and the bunks in this ’ere tourist car is jest as big as the ones in the high-priced coaches ahead. So as soon as we get clear of ’Frisco, let’s go to bed.”
“But it isn’t dark yet, Uncle,” I protested. “It won’t be bedtime for hours.”
“Sam,” replied the old man, earnestly, “do you mean to say you’re goin’ to pay for a bed and let it lay idle? That’s what I call rank extravagance! I’ve seen it done, on my travels, o’ course. I’ve known a man to pay three dollars for a bed, an’ then set up half the night in the smokin’ cars before he turns in. But do you ’spose the railroad company pays him back half the money? Never. They just laughs at him and keeps the whole three dollars! To pay for a thing, and use it, ain’t extravagance; but to buy a bed, and then set up half the night is. Why, it’s like payin’ for a table-day-haughty dinner an’ then skippin’ half the courses! Would a sensible man do that?”
“Not if he’s hungry, Uncle,” said I, laughing at this philosophy.
“If he ain’t hungry, he buys a sandwich, an’ not a table-day-haughty,” cried Uncle Naboth, triumphantly.
Nevertheless, being fully conscious of my newly acquired wealth, I recklessly sat up until bedtime, while my thrifty Uncle occupied his “bunk” and snored peacefully. The journey was accomplished in safety, and from Boston we took the little railway to the seaport town of Batteraft.
During the last hours of the trip Uncle Naboth had become very thoughtful, and I frequently noticed him making laborious memoranda with his pencil on the backs of envelopes and scraps of paper which he took from his wallet. Finally I asked:
“What are you writing, Uncle?”
“I’m jest jotting down the things I mean to say to that old female shark at Batteraft,” was the reply. “I tell you, Sam, she’s goin’ to have the talkin’-to of her life, when I get at her; and she’ll deserve every word of it. I’ll let you pay her first, so’s the money account will be square; an’ then I’ll try to square the moral account.”
“Will she let you?” I enquired doubtfully, for I had a vivid remembrance of Mrs. Ranck’s dislike of any opposition.
“She can’t help herself,” replied Uncle Naboth, seriously. “If you knew the things she up an’ said to me that day I tackled her before, Sam, an’ the harsh an’ impident tones she used to say ’em with, you’d realize how much my revenge means to me.”
“Why didn’t you resent it then, Uncle?”
“Why, she took me by surprise, an’ I didn’t have time to collect my parrergraphs, and that’s the reason. A............