Part 47 (2/2)

”Humming-top?” queried Mrs. Bunker archly.

”Any top,” said the captain. ”Come, make up your mind. We shan't sail afore nine.”

”It don't look right,” said the lady, who was sorely tempted. ”But the missus says I may go if I like, so I'll just go and get my box ready.

I'll be down on the jetty at nine.”

”Ay, ay,” said the skipper, smiling, ”me and Bill'll just have a snooze till then. So long.”

”So long,” said Matilda.

”So long,” repeated the amorous skipper, and turning round to bestow another ardent glance upon the fair one at the door, crashed into the waggon.

The neighbouring clocks were just striking nine in a sort of yelping chorus to the heavy boom of Big Ben, which came floating down the river, as Mrs. Bunker and the night watchman, staggering under a load of luggage, slowly made their way on to the jetty. The barge, for such was the craft in question, was almost level with the planks, while the figures of two men darted to and fro in all the bustle of getting under way.

”Bill,” said the watchman, addressing the mate, ”bear a hand with this box, and be careful, it's got the wedding clothes inside.”

The watchman was so particularly pleased with this little joke that in place of giving the box to Bill he put it down and sat on it, shaking convulsively with his hand over his mouth, while the blus.h.i.+ng Matilda and the discomfited captain strove in vain to appear unconcerned.

The packages were rather a tight squeeze for the cabin, but they managed to get them in, and the skipper, with a threatening look at his mate, who was exchanging glances of exquisite humour with the watchman, gave his hand to Mrs. Bunker and helped her aboard.

”Welcome on the Sir Edmund Lyons, Mrs. Bunker,” said he. ”Bill, kick that dawg back.”

”Stop!” said Mrs. Bunker hastily, ”that's my chapperong.”

”Your what?” said the skipper. ”It's a dawg, Mrs. Bunker, an' I won't have no dawgs aboard my craft.”

”Bill,” said Mrs. Bunker, ”fetch my box up again.”

”Leastways,” the captain hastened to add, ”unless it's any friend of yours, Mrs. Bunker.”

”It's chaperoning me,” said Matilda; ”it wouldn't be proper for a lady to go a v'y'ge with two men without somebody to look after her.”

”That's right, Sam,” said the watchman sententiously. ”You ought to know that at your age.”

”Why, we're looking after her,” said the simple-minded captain. ”Me an'

Bill.”

”Take care Bill don't cut you out,” said the watchman in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, distinctly audible to all. ”He's younger nor what you are, Sam, an' the wimmen are just crazy arter young men. 'Sides which, he's a finer man altogether. An' you've had ONE wife a'ready, Sam.”

”Cast off!” said the skipper impatiently. ”Cast off! Stand by there, Bill!”

”Ay, ay!” said Bill, seizing a boat-hook, and the lines fell into the water with a splash as the barge was pushed out into the tide.

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