It was a still fair evening in late summer in the parish of Wapping. Thehands had long since left, and the night watchman having abandoned histrust in favour of a neighbouring bar, the wharf was deserted.
An elderly seaman came to the gate and paused irresolute, then, seeingall was quiet, stole cautiously on to the jetty, and stood for some timegazing curiously down on to the deck of the billy-boy PSYCHE lyingalongside.
With the exception of the mate, who, since the lamented disappearance ofits late master and owner, was acting as captain, the deck was asdeserted as the wharf. He was smoking an evening pipe in all the prideof a first command, his eye roving fondly from the blunt bows and untidydeck of his craft to her clumsy stern, when a slight cough from the manabove attracted his attention.
"How do, George?" said the man on the jetty, somewhat sheepishly, as theother looked up.
The mate opened his mouth, and his pipe fell from it and smashed topieces unnoticed.
"Got much stuff in her this trip?" continued the man, with an obviousattempt to appear at ease.
"The mate, still looking up, backed slowly to the other side of thedeck, but made no reply.
"What's the matter, man?" said the other testily. "You don't seemoverpleased to see me."
He leaned over as he spoke, and, laying hold of the rigging, descendedto the deck, while the mate took his breath in short, exhilaratinggasps.
"Here I am, George," said the intruder, "turned up like a bad penny, an'glad to see your handsome face again, I can tell you."
In response to this flattering remark George gurgled.
"Why," said the other, with an uneasy laugh, "did you think I was dead,George? Ha, ha! Feel that!"
He fetched the horrified man a thump in the back, which stopped even hisgurgles.
"That feel like a dead man?" asked the smiter, raising his hand again."Feel"--
The mate moved back hastily. "That'll do," said he fiercely; "ghost orno ghost, don't you hit me like that again."
"A' right, George," said the other, as he meditatively felt the stiffgrey whiskers which framed his red face. "What's the news?"
"The news," said George, who was of slow habits and speech, "is that youwas found last Tuesday week off St. Katherine's Stairs, you was sat on aFriday week at the Town o' Ramsgate public-house, and buried on Mondayafternoon at Lowestoft."
"Buried?" gasped the other, "sat on? You've been drinking, George."
"An' a pretty penny your funeral cost, I can tell you," continued themate. "There's a headstone being made now--'Lived lamented and diedrespected,' I think it is, with 'Not lost, but gone before,' at thebottom."
"Lived respected and died lamented, you mean," growled the old man;"well, a nice muddle you have made of it between you. Things always gowrong when I'm not here to look after them."
"You ain't dead, then?" said the mate, taking no notice of thisunreasonable remark, "Where've you been all this long time?"
"No more than you're master o' this 'ere ship," replied Mr. Harboltgrimly. "I--I've been a bit queer in the stomach, an' I took a littledrink to correct it. Foolish like, I took the wrong drink, and it musthave got into my head."
"That's the worst of not being used to it," said the mate, withoutmoving a muscle.
The skipper eyed him solemnly, but the mate stood firm.
"Arter that," continued the skipper, still watching him suspiciously, "Iremember no more distinctly until this morning, when I found myselfsitting on a step down Poplar way and shiverin', with the morningnewspaper and a crowd round me."
"Morning newspaper!" repeated the mystified mate. "What was that for?"
"Decency. I was wrapped up in it," replied the skipper. "Where I camefrom or how I got there I don't know more than Adam. I s'pose I musthave been ill; I seem to remember taking something out of a bottlepretty often. Some old gentleman in the crowd took me into a shop andbought me these clothes, an' here I am. My own clo'es and thirty poundso' freight money I had in my pocket is all gone."
"Well, I'm hearty glad to see you back," said the mate. "It's quite ahome-coming for you, too. Your missis is down aft."
"My missis? What the devil's she aboard for?" growled the skipper,successfully controlling his natural gratification at the news.
"She's been with us these last two trips," replied the mate. "She's hadbusiness to settle in London, and she's been going through your lockersto clear up, like."
"My lockers!" groaned the skipper. "Good heavens! there's things in themlockers I wouldn't have her see for the world; women are so fussy an' sofond o' making something out o' nothing. There's a pore female touched abit in the upper storey, what's been writing love letters to me,George."
"Three pore females," said the precise mate; "the missis has got all theletters tied up with blue ribbon. Very far gone they was, too, poorcreeters."
"George," said the skipper in a broken voice, "I'm a ruined man. I'llnever hear the end o' this. I guess I'll go an' sleep for'ard thisvoyage, and lie low. Be keerful you don't let on I'm aboard, an' aftershe's home I'll take the ship again, and let the thing leak out gradual.Come to life bit by bit, so to speak. It wouldn't do to scare her,George, an' in the meantime I'll try an' think o' some explanation totell her. You might be thinking too."
"I'll do what I can," said the mate.
"Crack me up to the old girl all you can; tell her I used to write toall sorts o' people when I got a drop of drink in me; say how thoughtfulI always was of her. You might tell her about that gold locket I boughtfor her an' got robbed of."
"Gold locket?" said the mate in tones of great surprise. "What goldlocket? Fust I've heard of it."
"Any gold locket," said the skipper irritably; "anything you can thinkof; you needn't be pertikler. Arter that you can drop little hints aboutpeople being buried in mistake for others, so as to prepare her a bit--Idon't want to scare her."
"Leave it to me," said the mate.
"I'll go an' turn in now, I'm dead tired," said the skipper. "I s'poseJoe and the boy's asleep?"
George nodded, and meditatively watched the other as he pushed back thefore-scuttle and drew it after him as he descended. Then a thoughtstruck the mate, and he ran hastily forward and threw his weight on thescuttle just in time to frustrate the efforts of Joe and the boy, whowere coming on deck to tell him a new ghost story. The confusion belowwas frightful, the skipper's cry of "It's only me, Joe," not possessingthe soothing effect which he intended. They calmed down at length, aftertheir visitor had convinced them that he really was flesh and blood andfists, and the boy's attention being directed to a small rug in thecorner of the foc's'le, the skipper took his bunk and was soon fastasleep.
He slept so soundly that the noise of the vessel getting under wayfailed to rouse him, and she was well out in the open river when heawoke, and after cautiously protruding his head through the scuttle,ventured on deck. For some time he stood eagerly sniffing the cool,sweet air, and then, after a look round, gingerly approached the mate,who was at the helm.
"Give me a hold on her," said he.
"You had better get below again, if you don't want the missis to seeyou," said the mate. "She's gettin' up--nasty temper she's in too."
The skipper went forward grumbling. "Send down a good breakfast,George," said he.
To his great discomfort the mate suddenly gave a low whistle, andregarded him with a look of blank dismay.
"Good gracious!" he cried, "I forgot all about it. Here's a prettykettle of fish--well, well."
"Forgot about what?" asked the skipper uneasily.
"The crew take their meals in the cabin now," replied the mate, "'costhe missis says it's more cheerful for 'em, and she's l'arning 'em toeat their wittles properly."
The skipper looked at him aghast. "You'll have to smuggle me up somegrub," he said at length. "I'm not going to starve for nobody."
"Easier said than done," said the mate. "The missis has got eyes likeneedles; still, I'll do the best I can for you. Look out! Here shecomes."
&nbs
p; The skipper fled hastily, and, safe down below, explained to the crewhow they were to secrete portions of their breakfast for his benefit.The amount of explanation required for so simple a matter wasremarkable, the crew manifesting a denseness which irritated him almostbeyond endurance. They promised, however, to do the best they could forhim, and returned in triumph after a hearty meal, and presented theirenraged commander with a few greasy crumbs and the tail of a bloater.
For the next two days the wind was against them, and they made butlittle progress. Mrs. Harbolt spent most of her time on deck, therebyconfining her husband to his evil-smelling quarters below. Matters werenot improved for him by his treatment of the crew, who, resenting hisrough treatment of them, were doing their best to starve him intocivility. Most of the time he kept in his bunk--or rather Jemmy'sbunk--a prey to despondency and hunger of an acute type, venturing ondeck only at night to prowl uneasily about and bemoan his condition.
On the third night Mrs. Harbolt was later in retiring than usual, and itwas nearly midnight before the skipper, who had been indignantly waitingfor her to go, was able to get on deck and hold counsel with the mate.
"I've done what I could for you," said the latter, fishing a crust fromhis pocket, which Harbolt took thankfully. "I've told her all the yarnsI could think of about people turning up after they was buried and thelike."
"What'd she say?" queried the skipper eagerly, between his bites.
"Told me not to talk like that," said the mate; "said it showed a wanto' trust in Providence to hint at such things. Then I told her what youasked me about the locket, only I made it a bracelet worth ten pounds."
"That pleased her?" suggested the other hopefully.
The mate shook his head. "She said I was a born fool to believe you'dbeen robbed of it," he replied. "She said what you'd done was to give itto one o' them pore females. She's been going on frightful about it allthe afternoon--won't talk o' nothing else."
"I don't know what's to be done," groaned the skipper despondently. "Ishall be dead afore we get to port this wind holds. Go down and get mesomething to eat George; I'm starving."
"Everything's locked up, as I told you afore," said the mate.
"As the master of this ship," said the skipper, drawing himself up, "Iorder you to go down and get me something to eat. You can tell themissus it's for you if she says anything."
"I'm hanged if I will," said the mate sturdily. "Why don't you go downand have it out with her like a man? She can't eat you."
"I'm not going to," said the other shortly. "I'm a determined man, andwhen I say a thing I mean it. It's going to be broken to her gradual, asI said; I don't want her to be scared, poor thing."
"I know who'd be scared the most," murmured the mate.
The skipper looked at him fiercely, and then sat down wearily on thehatches with his hands between his knees, rising, after a time, to getthe dipper and drink copiously from the water-cask. Then, replacing itwith a sigh, he bade the mate a surly good-night and went below.
To his dismay he found when he awoke in the morning that what littlewind there was had dropped in the night, and the billy-boy was justrising and falling lazily on the water in a fashion most objectionableto an empty stomach. It was the last straw, and he made things souncomfortable below that the crew were glad to escape on deck, wherethey squatted down in the bows, and proceeded to review a situationwhich was rapidly becoming unbearable.
"I've 'ad enough of it, Joe," grumbled the boy. "I'm sore all over withsleeping on the floor, and the old man's temper gets wuss and wuss. I'mgoing to be ill."
"Whaffor?" queried Joe dully.
"You tell the missus I'm down below ill. Say you think I'm dying,"responded the infant Machiavelli, "then you'll see somethink if you keepyour eyes open."
He went below again, not without a little nervousness, and, clamberinginto Joe's bunk, rolled over on his back and gave a deep groan.
"What's the matter with YOU!" growled the skipper, who was lying in theother bunk staving off the pangs of hunger with a pipe.
"I'm very ill--dying," said Jemmy, with another groan.
"You'd better stay in bed and have your breakfast brought down here,then," said the skipper kindly.
"I don't want no breakfast," said Jem faintly.
"That's no reason why you shouldn't have it sent down, you unfeelinglittle brute," said the skipper indignantly. "You tell Joe to bring youdown a great plate o' cold meat and pickles, and some coffee; that'swhat you want."
"All right, sir," said Jemmy. "I hope they won't let the missus comedown here, in case it's something catching. I wouldn't like her to betook bad."
"Eh?" said the skipper, in alarm. "Certainly not. Here, you go up anddie on deck. Hurry up with you."
"I can't; I'm too weak," said Jemmy.
"You get up on deck at once; d'ye hear me?" hissed the skipper, inalarm.
"I c-c-c-can't help it," sobbed Jemmy, who was enjoying the situationamazingly. "I b'lieve it's sleeping on the hard floor's snappedsomething inside me."
"If you don't go I'll take you," said the skipper, and he was about torise to put his threat into execution when a shadow fell across theopening, and a voice, which thrilled him to the core, said softly,"Jemmy!"
"Yes 'm?" said Jemmy languidly, as the skipper flattened himself in hisbunk and drew the clothes over him.
"How do you feel?" inquired Mrs. Harbolt.
"Bad all over," said Jemmy. "Oh, don't come down, mum--please don't."
"Rubbish!" said Mrs. Harbolt tartly, as she came slowly and carefullydown backwards. "What a dark hole this is, Jemmy. No wonder you're ill.Put your tongue out."
Jemmy complied.
"I can't see properly here," murmured the lady, "but it looks verylarge. S'pose you go in the other bunk, Jemmy. It's a good bit higherthan this, and you'd get more air and be more comfortable altogether."
"Joe wouldn't like it, mum," said the boy anxiously. The last glimpse hehad had of the skipper's face did not make him yearn to share his bedwith him.
"Stuff an' nonsense!" said Mrs. Harbolt hotly. "Who's Joe, I'd like toknow? Out you come."
"I can't move, mum," said Jemmy firmly.
"Nonsense!" said the lady. "I'll just put it straight for you first,then in it you go."
"No, don't, mum," shouted Jemmy, now thoroughly alarmed at the successof his plot. "There, there's a gentleman in that bunk. A gentleman webrought from London for a change of sea air."
"My goodness gracious!" ejaculated the surprised Mrs. Harbolt. "I neverdid. Why, what's he had to eat?"
"He--he--didn't want nothing to eat," said Jemmy, with a woefuldisregard for facts.
"What's the matter with him?" inquired Mrs. Harbolt, eyeing the bunkcuriously. "What's his name? Who is he?"
"He's been lost a long time," said Jemmy, "and he's forgotten who heis--he's a oldish man with a red face an' a little white whisker allround it--a very nice-looking man, I mean," he interposed hurriedly. "Idon't think he's quite right in his head, 'cos he says he ought to havebeen buried instead of someone else. Oh!"
The last word was almost a scream, for Mrs. Harbolt, staggering back,pinched him convulsively.
"Jemmy!" she gasped, in a trembling voice, as she suddenly rememberedcertain mysterious hints thrown out by the mate. "Who is it?"
"The CAPTAIN!" said Jemmy, and, breaking from her clasp, slipped fromhis bed and darted hastily on deck, just as the pallid face of hiscommander broke through the blankets and beamed anxiously on his wife.
- - - - - - - - Five minutes later, as the crew gathered aft were curiously eyeing the foc's'le, Mrs. Harbolt and the skipper came on deck. To the great astonishment of the mate, the eyes of the redoubtable woman were slightly wet, and, regardless of the presence of the men, she clung fondly to her husband as they walked slowly to the cabin. Ere they went below, however, she called the grinning Jemmy to her, and, to his private grief and public shame, tucked his head under her arm and kissed him fondly.<
br />
IN LIMEHOUSE REACH