Once Aboard the Lugger-- The History of George and his Mary

by W. W. Jacobs

  Beating up against the desperate barrier of that thought, Mrs. Majorgroaned aloud as she paced the room, threw up her arms in her despair.The action caused her to swerve; with hideous violence she crashed herstockinged foot against the leg of the wash-stand.

  Impossible to tell how far will spread the ripples of the lightestaction we may toss upon the sea of life. The stunning agony in thiswoman's toes, as, hopping to the bed, she sat and nursed them, with theswiftness of thought presented to her a solution of her difficulty thatstruck her staring with excitement.

  Her first thought in her throbbing pain was of remedy for the bruise."Bruise" brought involuntarily to her mind the picture of a chemist'sshop in the Edgware Road, not far from Angel Street, whose window shehad seen filled with little boxes of "Bruisine," the newest specific forabrasions. Thence her thoughts, by direct passage, jumped to the timewhen last she had noticed the shop--she had been returning from a strollby way of Sussex Gardens. And it was while mentally retracing that walkdown Sussex Gardens that Mrs. Major lit plump upon the solution of herdifficulty. She had noticed, let out for a run from No. 506, an orangecat that was so precisely the image of the Rose of Sharon that she hadstopped to stroke it for dear memory's sake. Often since then she hadspoken to it; every time had been the more struck by its extraordinaryresemblance to the Rose. She had reflected that, seen together, shecould not have told them apart.

  Mrs. Major forgot the throbbing of her abrased toes. Her brows knittedby concentration of thought, very slowly the masterly woman concludedher disrobing. Each private garment that she stripped and laid asidemarked a forward step in the indomitable purpose she had conceived. Asher fingers drew the most private from her person, leaving it naked, sofrom her plan did her masterly mind draw the last veil that filmed it,leaving it clear. When the Jaeger nightdress fell comfortably about her,her purpose too was presentable and warm.

  Every day and every night, every hour of every day and night, ripplesfrom unknown splashes are setting towards us. From this masterlywoman, in process of toilet, ripples were setting towards a modest andunsuspecting cat lying in sweet slumber at 506 Sussex Gardens, off theEdgware Road.

  For the masterly woman had thus determined--she would have that cat thatwas the Rose's second self. The Rose was in the hands of some villainbreeder and would never be returned; small fear of discovery under thathead. This cat was the Rose's second self; differences that Mr. Marrapitmight discover, lack of affection that he might notice, could beattributed to the adventures through which the Rose had passed since herabduction. Under this head, indeed, Mrs. Major did not anticipate greatdifficulty. Similar cats are more similar than similar dogs. Theyhave not, as dogs have, the distinguishing marks of character anddemonstrativeness. In any event, as the masterly woman assured herself,she ran no peril even if her plot failed. She would say she had foundthe cat, and if Mr. Marrapit were convinced it was not his Rose--well,she had made a mistake, that was all.

  V.

  Upon the morrow, playing her hand with masterly skill, Mrs. Majorsought interview with Mr. Marrapit. With telling dabs of her pockethandkerchief at her eyes, with telling sniffs of her masterly nose, sheexpressed the fear that she had outstayed his kindness in receiving her.He had granted her request--he had let her come to Herons' Holt; but twodays had passed and she had not found his Rose. True, if she had longershe could more thoroughly search; but as an honest woman she must admitthat she had been given her chance, had failed.

  Upon a wailing note she ended: "I must go."

  "Cancel that intention," Mr. Marrapit told her. Her honesty smote thisman. Had he misjudged her?

  She smothered a sniff in her handkerchief: "I must go. I must go. I haveseen that you regard me with suspicion. Oh, you have reason, I know; butI cannot bear it."

  "Remove that impression," spoke Mr. Marrapit. He _had_ misjudged thiswoman; he was convinced of it.

  Mrs. Major gave her answer in the form of two smothered sniffs and athird that, eluding her handkerchief, escaped free and loud--a tellingsniff that advertised her distress; wrung Mr. Marrapit's emotions.

  He continued: "Mrs. Major, at a future time we will discuss the painfulaffair to which you make reference. At present I am too preoccupiedby the calamity that has desolated my hearth. Meanwhile, I suspendjudgment. I place suspicion behind me. I regard you only as she whom myRose loved."

  "Do you wish me to stay a little longer?" asked Mrs. Major, trembling.

  "That is my wish. Continue to prosecute your search."

  Trembling yet more violently Mrs. Major said: "I will stay. I had notdared to suppose I might stop more than two days. I brought nothing withme. May I go to London to get clothes? I will return to-morrow morning."

  "Why not to-night?"

  "Early to-morrow would be more convenient. I have other things to do inLondon."

  "To-morrow, then," Mr. Marrapit agreed.

  At the door Mrs. Major turned. Her great success at this interviewemboldened her to a second stroke. "There is one other thing I wouldlike to say, if I dared."

  "Be fearless."

  She plunged. "If Heaven should grant that I may find the Rose, I imploreyou not to distress me by offering me the reward you are holding out. Icould not take it. I know you can ill afford it. Further than that, tohave the joy of giving you back your Rose would be reward enough for me.And to know that she was safe with you, though I--I should never see heragain, that would make me happy till the end of my days."

  Her nobility smote Mr. Marrapit. Cruelly, shamefully, he _had_ misjudgedher. Her handkerchief pressed to her eyes, very gently Mrs. Major closedthe door; very soberly mounted the stairs.

  Out of earshot, she walked briskly to her room; drew forth her diary; ina bold hand inscribed:

  "_Absolutely certain shall stick._"

  The masterly woman lunched in town.

  CHAPTER II.

  Mrs. Major Finds The Lock.

  I.

  By six o'clock Mrs. Major had all ready for her adventure. In the littleroom at Angel Street she deposited a newly purchased basket; at eighto'clock started for Sussex Gardens.

  Twice, while passing down the terrace at about nine, she had seen thecat she now pursued let out for what was doubtless its nightly run.

  On each occasion she had observed the same order of events, and shejudged them to be of regular occurrence. Out from No. 506 had stepped atall man, long-haired, soft-hatted, poetically bearded. Behind him hadfollowed the cat. The cat had trotted across the road to the gardens;the tall man had walked slowly round the enclosure. Returning, he hadcalled. The cat had walked soberly forth from the railings and the pairhad re-entered the house.

  II.

  Matters fell this night precisely as the sapient woman had conjectured.Shortly before nine she took up position against the railings in a darkpatch that marked the middle point between two lamps, some doorsabove 506. No tremor agitated her form; in action this woman was mostmasterly.

  A church clock struck a full clear note, another and another. Theafter-humming of the ninth had scarcely died when the blackness thatlay beneath the fanlight of 506 was split by a thin rod of yellow light.Instantly this widened, served for a moment to silhouette a tall figure,then vanished as the door slammed. The tall figure stepped on to thepavement; a cat at its feet trod sedately across the road. The tallfigure turned; in a moment was meditatively pacing the pavement oppositewhere Mrs. Major stood.

  Mrs. Major gave him twenty yards. Then she hurried along the railings towhere the cat had tripped. Six feet inwards, delicately scratching thesoil beneath a bush, she espied it.

  The masterly woman pressed her face between the rails; stretched asnapping finger and thumb; in an intense voice murmured, "Tweetikinspuss!"

  Tweetikins puss continued thoughtfully to turn the soil. This was anicely mannered cat.

  "Tweety little puss!" cooed Mrs. Major. "Tweety pussikins! puss, puss!"

  Tweety pussikins turned to regard her. Mrs. Major moistened her fingerand thumb; snapped
frantically. "Puss, puss--tweety pussy!"

  Tweety pussy advanced till the snapping fingers were within an inch ofits nose.

  "Pussikins, pussikins!" implored Mrs. Major.

  Pussikins very deliberately seated itself; coiled its fine tail aboutits feet; regarded Mrs. Major with a sphinx-like air.

  Mrs. Major pressed till the iron railings cut her shoulders. Shestretched the forefinger of her extended arm; at great peril of slippingforward and rasping her nose along the rails effected to scratch the topof the sphinx's head.

  "Puss, puss! Tweety, _tweety_ puss!"

  By not so much as a blink did tweety puss stir a muscle.

  Mrs. Major was in considerable pain. Her bent legs were cramped; therailings bit her shoulder; her neck ached: "Tweety little puss! Tweetypuss! Puss! _Drat_ the beast!"

  In great physical agony and in heightening mental distress--sincetime was fleeting and the cat as statuesque as ever,--Mrs. Major againdratted it twice with marked sincerity and a third time as a sharp soundadvertised the splitting of a secret portion of her wear against thetremendous strain her unnatural position placed upon it. Unable longerto endure the pain of her outstretched arm, she dropped her hand toearth; with a masterly effort resumed her smiling face and silky tone.Repeating her endearing cooings, she scratched the soil, enticing tosome hidden mystery.

  The demon of curiosity impelled this cat's doom. For a moment iteyed the scratching fingers; then stretched forward its head toinvestigation.

  The time for gentle methods was gone. Mrs. Major gripped the downyscruff of the doomed creature's neck; dragged the surprised animalforward; rudely urged it through the railings; tucked it beneath hercloak; sped down the road in the same direction that the tall figure hadtaken.

  But where the tall figure had turned round the gardens Mrs. Major keptstraight. Along a main street, into a by-street, round a turning,across a square, up a terrace, over the Edgware Road--so into thebed-sitting-room at Angel Street.

  III.

  Speeding by train to Herons' Holt upon the following morning, besideher the basket wherein lay the key that was to open paradise, Mrs. Majorslightly altered her plans. It had been her intention at once to burstupon Mr. Marrapit with her prize--at once to put to desperate testwhether or no he would accept it as the Rose. But before Paltley Hillwas reached the masterly woman had modified this order. The cat she hadabducted was so much the facsimile of the Rose that for the first timeit occurred to her that, like the Rose, it might be valuable, and that anoisy hue and cry might be raised upon its loss.

  If this so happened, and especially if Mr. Marrapit were doubtful thatthe cat was his Rose, it would be dangerous to let him know that shehad made her discovery in London. Supposing he heard that a London cat,similar to the Rose in appearance, were missing, and remembered thatthis cat--of which from the first he had had doubts--was filched fromLondon? That might turn success into failure. The chances of such eventswere remote, but the masterly woman determined to run no risks. Shedecided that on arrival at

  Paltley Hill she would conceal her cat; on the morrow, starting outfrom Herons' Hill to renew her search, would find it and with it comebounding to the house.

  As to where she should hide it she had no difficulty in determining. Sheknew of but one place, and she was convinced she could not have known abetter. The ruined hut in the copse off the Shipley Road, whither in thedear, dead days beyond recall she had stolen for Old Tommish purposes,was in every way safe and suitable. None visited there at ordinarytimes; now that the country-side was no longer being searched for theRose save by herself, it was as safe as ever. She would leave her catthere this day and night.

  Upon this determination the remarkable woman acted; before proceeding toHerons' Holt secured her cat in that inner room of the hut where, but afew days previously, the Rose herself had lain.

  When she reached the house a maid told her that Mr. Marrapit wascloseted with young Mr. Wyvern.

  IV.

  During the afternoon Mrs. Major visited her cat, taking it milk. Thatevening, Mary and Margaret being elsewhere together, she was able toenjoy a quiet hour with Mr. Marrapit.

  He was heavily depressed: "A week has passed, Mrs. Major. Somethingtells me I never again will see my Rose. This day I have sent young Mr.Wyvern and Mr. Brunger after my nephew George. The clue he claims toknow is my last chance. I have no faith in it. Put not your trust--" Mr.Marrapit allowed a melancholy sigh to conclude his sentence. This manhad suffered much.

  Mrs. Major clasped her hands. "Oh, do not give up hope, Mr. Marrapit.Something tells me you _will_ see her--soon, very soon."

  Mr. Marrapit sighed. "You are always encouraging, Mrs. Major."

  "Something tells me that I have reason to be, Mr. Marrapit. Last night Idreamed that the Rose was found." The encouraging woman leaned forward;said impressively, "I dreamed that I found her."

  Mr. Marrapit did not respond to her tone. Melancholy had this man inleaden grip. "I lose hope," he said. "Man is born unto trouble as thesparks fly upward. Do not trust in dreams."

  "Oh, but I _do_!" Mrs. Major said with girlish impulsiveness. "I _do_.I always have. My dreams so often come true. Do not lose hope, Mr.Marrapit." She continued with a beautiful air of timidity: "Oh, Mr.Marrapit, I know I am only here on sufferance, but your careworn airemboldens me to suggest--it might keep your poor mind from thinking--agame of backgammon such as we used to play before--" She sighed.

  "I should like it," Mr. Marrapit answered.

  Mrs. Major arranged the board; drew Mr. Marrapit's favourite chair tothe table; rattled the dice. After a few moves, "Oh, you're not beatingme as you used to," she said archly.

  "I am out of practice," Mr. Marrapit confessed.

  Mrs. Major paused in the act of throwing her dice. "Out of practice! Butsurely Miss Humfray plays with you?"

  "She does not."

  Mrs. Major gave a sigh that suggested more than she dared say.

  She sighed again when the game was concluded. Mr. Marrapit sat on."Quite like old times," Mrs. Major murmured. "Good night, Mr. Marrapit;and don't lose hope. Remember my dream."

  "Quite like old times," Mr. Marrapit murmured.

  The masterly woman ascended the stairs rubbing her hands.

  V.

  Mrs. Major ate an excellent breakfast upon the following morning. Shewas upon the very threshold of winning into paradise, but not a tremorof nervousness did she betray or feel. This was a superb woman.

  At eleven she left the house and took a walk--rehearsing the mannerin which she had arranged to burst in upon Mr. Marrapit with the cat,checking again the arguments with which she would counter and lull anydoubts he might raise.

  At twelve she entered the hut.

  Mrs. Major was in the very act of leaving the building, the catbeneath her arm, when a sound of voices and footsteps held her upon thethreshold. She listened; the sounds drew near. She closed the door; thesounds, now loud, approached the hut. She ran to the inner room; a handwas laid upon the outer latch. She closed the door; applied her eye to acrack; George and Mary entered.

  CHAPTER III.

  Mrs. Major Gets The Key.

  George carried a basket. He laid it upon the floor. Then he turned andkissed his Mary. He put his arms about her; held her to him for a momentin a tremendous hug; pressed his lips to hers; held her away, drinkinglove from her pretty eyes; again kissed her and again hugged.

  She gasped: "I shall crack in half in a minute if you will be soridiculous."

  He laughed; let her free. He led to the tottering bench that stoodacross the room, sat her there, and taking her little gloved hand pattedit between his.

  "Fine, Mary," he said, "to see you again! Fine! It seems months!"

  "Years," Mary whispered, giving one of the patting hands a littlesqueeze. "Years. And you never sent me a line. I've not had a word withyou since you came up on the lawn that day and said you had passed yourexam. You simply _bolted_ off, you know."

  "You got my letter, though, this morni
ng?" George said. He droppedher hand; fumbled in his pocket for his pipe. He was becoming a littlenervous at the matter before him.

  Mary told him: "Well, that was _nothing_. It was such a _frantic_letter! What is all the mystery about?"

  "I'll tell you the whole story." George got from the bench and began topace, filling his pipe.

  With a tender little smile Mary watched her George's dear face. Then, ashe still paced, lit his pipe, gustily puffed, but did not speak, a tinytroubled pucker came between her eyes. There was a suspicion of a sillylittle tremor in her voice when at last she asked: "Anything wrong, oldman?"

  George inhaled a vast breath of smoke; let it go in a misty cloud. Witha quick action he laid his pipe upon the table; sprang to her side.His right arm he put about her, in his left hand he clasped both hers."Nothing wrong," he cried brightly; "not a bit wrong. Mary, it's a game,a plot, a dickens of a game."

  "Well, tell me," she said, beaming.

  "It wants your help."

  "Well, tell me, tell me, stupid."

  "You will help?"

  "Of course, if I can. Oh, do tell me, Georgie!"

  "I'll show you, that's quicker."

  He sprang to the basket; unstrapped the lid; threw it back. A mostexquisite orange head upreared. A queenly back arched. A beautifulfigure stepped forth.

  "_George!_" Mary cried. "George! _The Rose!_ You've found her!"

  George gave a nervous little crack of laughter. "I never lost her."