Part 20 (1/2)

Peter told her in his off-hand way, in Auntie's presence too, that when she was a few years older he might possibly make love to her, and probably marry her, but not to build upon this as a promise.

Mattie told him he was an old man, and he had better marry Sarah. She said Robert wouldn't mind, because Robert had Trots, the pony.

Mattie, and Jill, and I, visited the _Thunderbolt_. Mr Moore was still in charge, and we talked much of old times and poor Tom Morley, but we did not play at pirates, though Mrs Moore pulled out the black flag and displayed it. She was always going to keep it, she said, as a memento of days gone by.

On board the hulk, Mattie took me aside to show me something, which she did with sparkling eyes and a heightened colour. It was only the little letter that I had put on her pillow.

”But,” said Mattie, ”of course we always pray for you when far away at sea, only there is one word in this letter that I don't like, quite I mean.”

”And what is that, Mattie?”

”Why do you say, 'Poor Jill'?” I do not know how it was, but at that very moment a kind of shadow pa.s.sed over my heart: I cannot otherwise define it--a kind of cold feeling.

”I don't know, Mattie,” I replied, looking, I'm sure more serious than I intended, for my looks were mirrored in Mattie's face. ”I don't know, Mattie; but I often think something will happen to 'poor Jill'--”

”There it is again--'poor Jill.'”

”Only,” I added, ”Heaven, forbid it should be in my lifetime, Mattie.”

”Amen,” said the child.

It was while I was at home this time--this last time for many years-- that a very curious thing happened. A sailor died at Cardiff, and on his death-bed called a priest and confessed to him that he alone had been the murderer of Roderigo, the Spanish sailor and companion of Adriano, who had suffered so long in prison.

I felt extremely happy about this, and so did auntie. She, of course, had not known the story of the man at the time when he was instrumental in saving Jill and me from probably an ugly fate. I had told her afterwards, however, when I knew Adriano had gone out of the country.

And, with some show of reason perhaps, both auntie and Mummy Gray connected him and the murdered Roderigo with the mystery that enshrouded Mattie's life.

”He will come again some day,” auntie said, ”and we will know all.”

”Yes,” said Mummy Gray, solemnly, ”I hope so.”

The Queen granted Adriano a free pardon. Auntie was disloyal enough to laugh when she read that piece of intelligence in the newspaper.

”Pardon for what?” she said, ”after having kept the poor dear sailor in prison and bondage for so many terrible years. It sounds like adding hideous insult to awful injury.”

CHAPTER TWELVE.

”COME TO ME, JACK, I CANNOT COME TO YOU.”

Peter Jeffries, now chief mate of the dear old _Salamander_, could no more help chaffing Jill and me, than a monkey can help pulling its mother's tail. And we used to tell him so.

For instance, brother and I nearly always kept watch together, merely for company's sake. You see we were both put in the same watch because the _Salamander_ required no third mate. So Peter did not hesitate to remind us often enough that we were only one man between the two of us.

But the fact was we were kept together on the _Salamander_, at auntie's wish, in order to become perfect sailors under bold Captain Coates, and not, as Peter would have it, that we might have our socks seen to by Mrs Coates, and our pocket-handkerchiefs aired by the black but comely Leila.

However, by way of paying him out for it, Jill would sometimes keep Peter's watch for him, and let him have four hours extra in, thus returning wheat for chaff.

During the next year of our life, Jill and I grew to to be quite men-- seventeen, you know, or nearly--and Jill reminded Peter that he could thrash him now, for we really were taller.

The resemblance between us was not a whit marred, and to tell you the truth we took a pride in it, and, just for the fun of the thing, always dressed exactly alike, even to our scarves.