Part 43 (2/2)
Such a sudden light broke in upon the square head of the mate, that he nearly whistled with the brightness of it.
”But you ain't engaged to this one?” he cried.
”We're to be married in August,” said the skipper desperately. ”That's my ring on her finger.”
”But you're going to marry Mary Jones in September,” expostulated the mate. ”You can't marry both of 'em.”
”That's what I say,” replied Evans; ”that's what I keep telling myself, but it don't seem to bring much comfort. I'm too soft-'earted where wimmen is concerned, Bill, an' that's the truth of it. D'reckly I get alongside of a nice gal my arm goes creeping round her before I know what it's doing.”
”What on earth made you bring the girl on the s.h.i.+p?” inquired the mate.
”The other one's sure to be on the quay to meet you as usual.”
”I couldn't help it,” groaned the skipper; ”she would come; she can be very determined when she likes. She's awful gone on me, Bill.”
”So's the other one apparently,” said the mate.
”I can't think what it is the gals see in me,” said the other mournfully. ”Can you?”
”No, I'm blamed if I can,” replied the mate frankly.
”I don't take no credit for it, Bill,” said the skipper, ”not a bit. My father was like it before me. The worry's killing me.”
”Well, which are you going to have?” inquired the mate. ”Which do you like the best?”
”I don't know, an' that's a fact,” said the skipper. ”They 've both got money coming to 'em; when I'm in Wales I like Mary Jones best, and when I'm in London it's Janey Cooper. It's dreadful to be like that, Bill.”
”It is,” said the mate drily. ”I wouldn't be in your shoes when those two gals meet for a fortune. Then you'll have old Jones and her brothers to tackle, too. Seems to me things'll be a bit lively.”
”I hev thought of being took sick, and staying in my bunk, Bill,”
suggested Evans anxiously.
”An' having the two of 'em to nurse you,” retorted Bill. ”Nice quiet time for an invalid.”
Evans made a gesture of despair.
”How would it be,” said the mate, after a long pause, and speaking very slowly; ”how would it be if I took this one off your hands.”
”You couldn't do it, Bill,” said the skipper decidedly. ”Not while she knew I was above ground.” ”Well, I can try,” returned the mate shortly.
”I've took rather a fancy to the girl. Is it a bargain?”
”It is,” said the skipper, shaking hands upon it. ”If you git me out of this hole, Bill, I'll remember it the longest day I live.”
With these words he went below, and, after cautiously undoing W. H.
Cooper, who had slept himself into a knot that a professional contortionist would have envied, tumbled in beside him and went to sleep.
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