In Search of Treasure

“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.