The Golden Dream | Page 9

you all about it."
Ned was incredulous at first, but as his uncle went on to explain how
matters stood, and gradually diverged from that subject to the details of
his outfit, he recovered from his surprise, and sprang suddenly up to
100° of Fahrenheit, even in the shade of the prospect of parting for a
time from old Mr. Shirley.

Need we be surprised, reader, that our hero on that night dreamed the
golden dream over again, with many wonderful additions, and sundry
remarkable variations.
Thus it came to pass that, two weeks afterwards, Ned and his uncle
found themselves steaming down the Thames to Gravesend, where the
good ship Roving Bess lay riding at anchor, with a short cable, and
top-sails loose, ready for sea.
"Ned," said Mr. Shirley, as they watched the receding banks of the
noble river, "you may never see home again, my boy. Will you be sure
not to forget me! will you write often, Ned!"
"Forget you, uncle!" exclaimed Ned, in a reproachful voice, while a
tear sprang to his eye. "How can you suggest such a--"
"Well, well, my boy, I know it--I know it; but I like to hear the
assurance repeated by your own lips. I'm an old man now, and if I
should not live to see you again, I would like to have some earnest,
loving words to think upon while you are away." The old man paused a
few moments, and then resumed--
"Ned, remember when far from home, that there is another
home--eternal in the heavens--to which, if you be the Lord's child, you
are hastening. You will think of that home, Ned, won't you! If I do not
meet you again here at any rate I shall hope to meet you there."
Ned would have spoken, but his heart was too full. He merely pressed
old Mr. Shirley's arm.
"Perhaps," continued his uncle, "it is not necessary to make you
promise to read God's blessed Word. You'll be surrounded by
temptations of no ordinary kind in the gold-regions; and depend upon it
that the Bible, read with prayer, will be the best chart and compass to
guide you safely through them all."
"My dear uncle," replied Ned, with emotion, "perhaps the best promise
I can make is to assure you that I will endeavour to do, in all things and

at all times, as you have taught me, ever since I was a little boy. If I
succeed, I feel assured that I shall do well."
A long and earnest conversation ensued between the uncle and nephew,
which was interrupted at last, by the arrival of the boat at Gravesend.
Jumping into a wherry, they pushed off, and were soon alongside of the
Roving Bess, a barque of about eight hundred tons burden, and,
according to Captain Bunting, "an excellent sea-boat."
"Catch hold o' the man-ropes," cried the last-named worthy, looking
over the side; "that's it; now then, jump! all right! How are ye, kinsman?
Glad to see you, Ned. I was afraid you were goin' to give me the slip."
"I have not kept you waiting, have I?" inquired Ned.
"Yes, you have, youngster," replied the captain, with a facetious wink,
as he ushered his friends into the cabin, and set a tray of broken biscuit
and a decanter of wine before them. "The wind has been blowin' off
shore the whole morning, and the good ship has been straining at a
short cable like a hound chained up. But we'll be off now in another
half-hour."
"So soon?" said Mr. Shirley, with an anxious expression on his kind old
face.
"All ready to heave up the anchor, sir," shouted the first mate down the
companion.
The captain sprang on deck, and soon after the metallic clatter of the
windlass rang a cheerful accompaniment to the chorus of the sailors.
One by one the white sails spread out to the breeze, and the noble ship
began to glide through the water.
In a few minutes more the last words were spoken, the last farewell
uttered, and Mr. Shirley stood alone in the stern-sheet of the little boat,
watching the departing vessel as she gathered way before the
freshening breeze. As long as the boat was visible Ned Sinton stood on
the ship's bulwarks, holding on to the mizzen shrouds, and waving his

handkerchief from time to time. The old man stood with his head
uncovered, and his thin locks waving in the wind.
Soon the boat was lost to view. Our hero brushed away a tear, and
leaped upon the deck, where the little world, of which for many days to
come he was to form a part, busied itself in making preparation for a
long, long voyage. The British Channel was passed; the Atlantic Ocean
was