Part 36 (1/2)
”It was very kind of you, Captain.”
”Not at all, by no means,” returned the Captain, pulling out a large clasp-knife, with which he proceeded carefully to pare his left thumb nail. ”By the way, Doctor,” he said carelessly, ”were you ever in love?”
Lawrence flushed, and cast a quick glance at his interrogator, who, however, was deeply engaged with the thumb nail.
”Well, I suppose men at my time of life,” he replied, with a laugh, ”have had some--”
”Of course--of course,” interrupted the other, ”but I mean that I wonder a strapping young fellow like you, with such a good practice, don't get married.”
The Doctor, who had recovered himself, laughed, and said that his good practice was chiefly among the poor, and that even if he wished to marry--or rather, if any one would have him--he would never attempt to win a girl while he had nothing better than two hundred a year and prospects to offer her.
”Then I suppose you _would_ marry if you had something better to offer,”
said the Captain, finis.h.i.+ng off the nail and shutting the clasp-knife with a snap.
Again the Doctor laughed, wondered why the Captain had touched on such a theme, and said that he couldn't exactly say what he might or might not do if circ.u.mstances were altered.
The Captain was baffled. However, he said that circ.u.mstances _were_ altered, and, after reading over the latter part of Willum's letter, left Lawrence to digest it at his leisure.
We need not follow him on his mission. Suffice it to say that he carried no small amount of relief to the minds of Mrs Stoutley and her household; and, thereafter, met Gillie by appointment at Charing Cross, whence he went to Kensington to see a villa, with a view to purchasing it.
At night he again essayed to move Mrs Roby's resolution, and many a time afterwards attacked her, but always with the same result.
Although, as he said, he fought like a true-blue British seaman, and gave her broadside after broadside as fast as he could load and fire, he made no impression on her whatever. She had nailed her colours to the mast and would never give in.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
IN WHICH TREMENDOUS FORCES COME TO THE CAPTAIN'S AID.
It is probable that most people can recall occasions when ”circ.u.mstances” have done for them that which they have utterly failed to effect for themselves.
Some time after the failure of Captain Wopper's little plots and plans in regard to Mrs Roby, ”circ.u.mstances” favoured him--the wind s.h.i.+fted round, so to speak, and blew right astern. To continue our metaphor, it blew a tremendous gale, and the Captain's ends were gained at last only by the sinking of the s.h.i.+p!
This is how it happened. One afternoon the Captain was walking rather disconsolately down the Strand in company with his satellite--we might almost say, his confidant. The street was very crowded, insomuch that at one or two crossings they were obliged to stand a few minutes before venturing over,--not that the difficulty was great, many active men being seen to dodge among the carts, drays, vans, and busses with marvellous ease and safety, but the Captain was cautious. He was wont to say that he warn't used to sail in such crowded waters--there warn't enough o' sea room for him--he'd rather lay-to, or stand--off-an'-on for half a day than risk being run down by them sh.o.r.e-goin' crafts.
”Everything in life seems to go wrong at times,” muttered the Captain, as he and the satellite lay-to at one of these crossings.
”Yes, it's coorious, ain't it, sir,” said Gillie, ”an' at other times everything seems to go right--don't it, sir?”
”True, my lad, that's a better view to take of it,” returned the Captain, cheerfully, ”come, we'll heave ahead.”
As they were ”heaving” along in silence, the rattle and noise around them being unsuited to conversation, they suddenly became aware that the ordinary din of the Strand swelled into a furious roar. Gillie was half way up a lamp-post in an instant! from which elevated position he looked down on the Captain, and said--
”A ingine!”
”What sort of a ingine, my lad?”
”A fire! hooray!” shouted Gillie, with glittering eyes and flushed countenance, ”look out, Cappen, keep close 'longside o' me, under the lee o' the lamp-post. It's not a bad buffer, though never quite a sure one, bein' carried clean away sometimes by the wheels w'en there's a bad driver.”
As he spoke, the most intense excitement was manifested in the crowded thoroughfare. Whips were flourished, cabmen shouted, horses reared, vehicles of all kinds scattered right and left even although there had seemed almost a ”block” two seconds before. Timid foot pa.s.sengers rushed into shops, bold ones mounted steps and kerb-stones, or stood on tip-toe, and the Captain, towering over the crowd, saw the gleam of bra.s.s helmets as the charioteer clove his way through the swaying ma.s.s.
There is something powerfully exciting to most minds in the sight of men rus.h.i.+ng into violent action, especially when the action may possibly involve life and death. The natural excitement aroused in the Captain's breast was increased by the deep ba.s.s nautical roar that met his ear.
Every man in the London fire-brigade is, or used to be, a picked man-of-war's-man, and the shouting necessary in such a thoroughfare to make people get out of the way was not only tremendous but unceasing.