When I came to myself I was lying, not in the outer blackness of the
Mohune vault, not on a floor of sand; but in a bed of sweet clean linen,
and in a little whitewashed room, through the window of which the spring
sunlight streamed. Oh, the blessed sunshine, and how I praised God for
the light! At first I thought I was in my own bed at my aunt's house, and
had dreamed of the vault and the smugglers, and that my being prisoned in
the darkness was but the horror of a nightmare. I was for getting up, but
fell back on my pillow in the effort to rise, with a weakness and sick
languor which I had never known before. And as I sunk down, I felt
something swing about my neck, and putting up my hand, found 'twas
Colonel John Mohune's black locket, and so knew that part at least of
this adventure was no dream.
Then the door opened, and to my wandering thought it seemed that I was
back again in the vault, for in came Elzevir Block. Then I held up my
hands, and cried--
'O Elzevir, save me, save me; I am not come to spy.'
But he, with a kind look on his face, put his hand on my shoulder, and
pushed me gently back, saying--
'Lie still, lad, there is none here will hurt thee, and drink this.'
He held out to me a bowl of steaming broth, that filled the room with a
savour sweeter, ten thousand times, to me than every rose and lily of the
world; yet would not let me drink it at a gulp, but made me sip it with a
spoon like any baby. Thus while I drank, he told me where I was, namely,
in an attic at the Why Not?, but would not say more then, bidding me get
to sleep again, and I should know all afterwards. And so it was ten days
or more before youth and health had their way, and I was strong again;
and all that time Elzevir Block sat by my bed, and nursed me tenderly as
a woman. So piece by piece I learned the story of how they found me.
'Twas Mr. Glennie who first moved to seek me; for when the second day
came that I was not at school, he thought that I was ill, and went to my
aunt's to ask how I did, as was his wont when any ailed. But Aunt Jane
answered him stiffly that she could not say how I did.
'For,' says she, 'he is run off I know not where, but as he makes his
bed, must he lie on't; and if he run away for his pleasure, may stay away
for mine. I have been pestered with this lot too long, and only bore with
him for poor sister Martha's sake; but 'tis after his father that the
graceless lad takes, and thus rewards me.'
With that she bangs the door in the parson's face and off he goes to
Ratsey, but can learn nothing there, and so concludes that I have run
away to sea, and am seeking ship at Poole or Weymouth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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