CHAPTER XIII.
"HE IS YOUNG AND OF LITTLE KNOWLEDGE."
The lads found that it was so late when they neared Lunda, that itwould be best to divide, one boat going to Collaster, and the otherproceeding to Westervoe; so Tom and Yaspard (the latter on a kind ofparole) were transferred to the _Osprey_, which immediately made sailfor Collaster, while the Manse boat conveyed the Mitchells to their ownhome.
The Holtums were lingering over their supper when Tom presentedhimself, bringing his captive with hands fastened together by a lanyardborrowed from Harry Mitchell for the purpose. The captive's glowingface, afire with fun and joyous anticipation, did not accord with thehumiliating position in which he was introduced by Tom; and hisreception by the Doctor and Mrs. Holtum certainly did not indicateanything like hostile feeling.
The lanyard was laughingly untied by the Doctor, who said, as hereleased and shook Yaspard's hands, "I am sure you can trust yourprisoner with so much liberty, Tom."
"Of course," said Tom; "I didn't see the fun of roping him at all, buthe would have it so, and the Mitchells said it looked more ship-shape."
"Besides," added Yaspard, "I wanted Uncle Brues to know that I didn'tcome here of my own free will and free-handed."
"I quite understand," replied the Doctor, very much amused at the wholeaffair. "But _now_ it is quite proper that your manacles be removed.You remember how the Black Prince treated his French prisoners? My Tommust not be less courteous to a Viking! Now, boys, let us hear how allthis came about."
Nothing loth, Tom and Yaspard related their adventures, and veryentertaining these were; but when they described the sending home ofThor, Dr. Holtum's face grew somewhat grave, and he seemed ponderingwithin himself.
When Tom had conducted his prisoner to his cell--which was one of thebest bedrooms--and returned to bid good-night, his father said, "Tom,lad, I am not altogether satisfied that yon corbie was a trustworthymessenger. Suppose he did _not_ carry news of Yaspard to Moolapund?"
"Yaspard never doubted he would."
The Doctor shook his head. "If," he said, "by any chance they have_not_ heard of the boy they will be very anxious about him. I thinkyou must take a note from me to the fishing-station. Some of the boatswill be leaving for the haaf even now, and as they run past Boden, I amsure one of them will put in there with my letter."
"Let me go with it, father!" Tom cried eagerly. "I am not a bit tiredor sleepy; and it will be such fun. Do let me go!"
Permission was given, a note to Mr. Adiesen written by Dr. Holtum, andTom despatched as envoy. He soon found a skipper willing to land himon Boden, and in the grey, quiet night, this most prosaic of the Lundalads was started on a somewhat eerie journey. A great deal of timewould have been lost if the haaf-boat had carried him into Boden voe,so Tom good-naturedly requested to be put ashore at the nearest point,determined to walk across the island to Moolapund. Tom had declaredthat he was neither tired nor sleepy, but he was both; and by the timehe had walked over a mile of Boden heath he was fain to stop more thanonce and take a brief rest. Each time he sat down on the soft,fragrant verdure, he felt less inclined to get up. How it happened atlast he never knew, but Tom sat down by an old planticrue,[1] andremained there; and there he was lying in blissful slumber when the sunwas well up over the Heogue, and Gaun Neeven had come out for an earlystroll. He always took his walks abroad when the rest of the Bodenfolk were in their beds, therefore it was believed that he seldom wentout at all.
If a philosopher like Mr. Neeven, who had passed through many years ofmost exciting life, could be surprised, he was when, coming around theplanticrue, he stumbled upon Tom Holtum, spread out at ease, andunconscious of his position.
The man stood stock still for some minutes, contemplating the prostratefigure, until a grim smile gradually spread over his melancholycountenance; then stooping, he touched Tom's face and said, "Wake up,lad, wake up!"
Tom's eyes were wide open in a moment, and he sat up and stared at thedisturber of his repose.
"What are you doing here?" Mr. Neeven asked, in his usual stern tones,which did not help to clarify Tom's understanding of his own position.He stammered some very incoherent words, which were no explanation atall, and did not even attempt to get on his feet.
Mr. Neeven was not a patient man. "Get up," he said, "and come withme. I must know what you mean by skulking about my house in thenight-time."
Tom rose slowly, and then discovered that he was in the near vicinityof Trullyabister.
"This is a pretty fix," thought he, as he followed Mr. Neeven. "Ibelieve I'll bolt!"
But a moment's reflection showed him how futile any attempt at escapewould be, so he silently proceeded in Mr. Neeven's wake, repenting himsorely for being so foolish as to fall asleep that night.
When they were in the dismal apartment where the recluse spent thegreater part of his time poring over books and nursing his gloomythoughts, he pointed to a chair, and taking one himself, said briefly--
"Now give a proper account of yourself."
Tom could be concise and to the point in speech as well as Mr. Neeven,and having recovered his usual _sang-froid_, he explained hisappearance in Boden in few plain words.
It was the first Gaun Neeven had heard of his young relative turningViking, and he was surprised to find a strange something within himselfleap and stir warmly at the tale of Yaspard's adventures, even thoughtold in Tom's unvarnished matter-of-fact style. Was it not a like"craze" which had rioted within his own blood when he was a boy, andhad sent him out into the world to fight and jostle men, to win renown,and prove his manhood by risking life and limb in all kinds of madadventure? Nothing had so moved that self-contained, moody man foryears, and even obtuse Tom could see that his story had touched somehidden spring of feeling. The stern lines had relaxed, and there was asofter though more intense light in the man's eyes.
Taking advantage of what he would have styled "a melting mood," Tombegged to be allowed to carry his father's letter to its destination."And after that," he said, "on the honour of a gentleman, I will comeback to you, and you can make of me what you please."
"The letter shall go to Mr. Adiesen at a proper hour," replied Mr.Neeven. "He is asleep at present, and I happen to know he is _not_uneasy about his nephew. You had better lie down on this sofa andfinish your own nap, while I finish my walk. Later I will tell youwhat I require you to do."
He walked out of the room, shutting the door with a key, and leavingTom a veritable prisoner.
"He might have trusted me," muttered Tom; "but since he hasn't put meon my honour, I shall do my best to escape---- Gracious! what's that?"
The lad was very wide-awake, and not the least inclined to go to sleepagain. His exclamation had been caused by a curious sharp barkingnoise, mingled with plaintive crying, which roused Tom's pity as wellas astonishment. He ran to the window, fancying the sounds came fromthat side, and hoping to see something to explain what they meant. Hewas not disappointed. The window of the haunted room was not far fromthat of Mr. Neeven's sitting-room, and at that window Tom saw the sameunearthly visage which had startled Yaspard and the Harrisons.
"Whe-e-ew!" whistled Tom, thrusting his fists far down his pockets, aswas his wont when the solution of any difficulty penetrated thesomewhat "thick skin" which enveloped his remarkably sound and shrewdunderstanding.
He stood some time staring thoughtfully at the creature, who staredback at him as no lady of modest demeanour ought to have done; but wemust not forget that she was a captive, and looking for a deliverer,and therefore to be excused in part.
"Poor soul!" muttered Tom, as the baby's wails once more broke thebeautiful silence of that smiling, sun-watched night-time. "It's ahorrible shame. I wish I could let them out. It would serve the oldboy right. But it's too risky a job for me to undertake by myself.Oh, well! when I get back to Lunda--if I'm not going to be shut up asshe is--I'll get the Manse boys to help. Bet Harry Mitchell willdevise a way of circumventing both Mr. Nee
ven and Mr. Adiesen."
Then Tom tried the window, hoping to make his exit by it, but found itwas nailed down beyond his power to unfasten.
"Never heard of such a thing in Shetland before," growled Tom. "What'she afraid of here? One would think Boden was the abode of thieves orpirates at this rate. Anyway, there are plenty of books about."
He found an interesting book about the buccaneers of the Spanish Main,so, lying down on the sofa, he was soon lost in the volume, and forgotthat he was in durance vile.
[1] Planticrue,--a _circular_ enclosure.