For he was not to remain a sailor, or a supercargo, or whatever he was going to be. Oh, no!
A sailor’s existence was dreadful. Fancy being cooped up in a horrid ship, with the hoarse, humpbacked waves trying to get in, and a black wind blowing the masts down and tearing the sails into long screaming ribands!
He was to leave the vessel at Melbourne, bid a polite goodbye to the captain, and go off at once to the gold-fields.
Before a week was over he was to come across a large nugget of pure gold, the largest nugget that had ever been discovered, and bring it down to the coast in a wagon guarded by six mounted policemen.
The bushrangers were to attack them three times, and be defeated with immense slaughter.
Or, no. He was not to go to the gold-fields at all. They were horrid places, where men got intoxicated, and shot each other in barrooms, and used bad language.
He was to be a nice sheep-farmer, and one evening, as he was riding home, he was to see the beautiful heiress being carried off by a robber on a black horse, and give chase, and rescue her.
Of course, she would fall in love with him, and he with her, and they would get married, and come home, and live in an immense house in London. Yes, there were delightful things in store for him.
But he must be very good, and not lose his temper, or spend his money foolishly. She was only a year older than he was, but she knew so much more of life.