Part 43 (1/2)

”Eleven o'clock!” shouted the excited skipper.

It was too true. Before Big Ben had finished, the neighbouring church clocks commenced striking with feverish haste, and hurrying feet and hoa.r.s.e cries were heard proceeding from the deck of the GOOD INTENT.

”Loose the sails!” yelled the furious Tucker. ”Loose the sails! Damme, we'll get under way by ourselves!”

He ran forward, and, a.s.sisted by the mate, hoisted the jibs, and then, running back, cast off from the brig, and began to hoist the mainsail.

As they disengaged themselves from the tier, there was just sufficient sail for them to advance against the tide; while in front of them the Good Intent, shaking out sail after sail, stood boldly down the river.

”This was the way of it,” said Sam, as he stood before the grim Tucker at six o'clock the next morning, surrounded by his mates. ”He came into the 'Town o' Berwick,' where we was, as nice a spoken little chap as ever you'd wish to see. He said he'd been a-looking at the GOOD INTENT, and he thought it was the prettiest little craft 'e ever seed, and the exact image of one his dear brother, which was a missionary, 'ad, and he'd like to stand a drink to every man of her crew. Of course, we all said we was the crew direckly, an' all I can remember after that is two coppers an' a little boy trying to giv' me the frog's march, an'

somebody chucking pails o' water over me. It's crool 'ard losing a race, what we didn't know nothink about, in this way; but it warn't our fault?-it warn't, indeed. It's my belief that the little man was a missionary of some sort hisself, and wanted to convert us, an' that was his way of starting on the job. It's all very well for the mate to have highstirriks; but it's quite true, every word of it, an' if you go an'

ask at the pub they'll tell you the same.”

MATED

The schooner Falcon was ready for sea. The last bale of general cargo had just been s.h.i.+pped, and a few hairy, unkempt seamen were busy putting on the hatches under the able profanity of the mate.

”All clear?” inquired the master, a short, ruddy-faced man of about thirty-five. ”Cast off there!”

”Ain't you going to wait for the pa.s.sengers, then?” inquired the mate.

”No, no,” replied the skipper, whose features were working with excitement. ”They won't come now, I'm sure they won't. We'll lose the tide if we don't look sharp.”

He turned aside to give an order just as a buxom young woman, accompanied by a loutish boy, a band-box, and several other bundles, came hurrying on to the jetty.

”Well, here we are, Cap'n Evans,” said the girl, springing lightly on to the deck. ”I thought we should never get here; the cabman didn't seem to know the way; but I knew you wouldn't go without us.”

”Here you are,” said the skipper, with attempted cheerfulness, as he gave the girl his right hand, while his left strayed vaguely in the direction of the boy's ear, which was coldly withheld from him. ”Go down below, and the mate'll show you your cabin. Bill, this is Miss Cooper, a lady friend o' mine, and her brother.”

The mate, acknowledging the introduction, led the way to the cabin, where they remained so long that by the time they came on deck again the schooner was off Limehouse, slipping along well under a light wind.

”How do you like the state-room?” inquired the skipper, who was at the wheel.

”Pretty fair,” replied Miss Cooper. ”It's a big name for it though, ain't it? Oh, what a large s.h.i.+p!”

She ran to the side to gaze at a big liner, and as far as Gravesend besieged the skipper and mate with questions concerning the various craft. At the mate's suggestion they had tea on deck, at which meal William Henry Cooper became a source of much discomfort to his host by his remarkable discoveries anent the fauna of lettuce. Despite his efforts, however, and the cloud under which Evans seemed to be labouring, the meal was voted a big success; and after it was over they sat laughing and chatting until the air got chilly, and the banks of the river were lost in the gathering darkness. At ten o'clock they retired for the night, leaving Evans and the mate on deck.

”Nice gal, that,” said the mate, looking at the skipper, who was leaning moodily on the wheel.

”Ay, ay,” replied he. ”Bill,” he continued, turning suddenly towards the mate. ”I'm in a deuce of a mess. You've got a good square head on your shoulders. Now, what on earth am I to do? Of course you can see how the land lays?”

”Of course,” said the mate, who was not going to lose his reputation by any display of ignorance. ”Anyone could see it,” he added.

”The question is what's to be done?” said the skipper.

”That's the question,” said the mate guardedly.

”I feel that worried,” said Evans, ”that I've actually thought of getting into collision, or running the s.h.i.+p ash.o.r.e. Fancy them two women meeting at Llandalock.”