Works of W. W. Jacobs

by Jacobs, W. W.

  Mrs. Chalk said that she had had so many meals on shore that she could afford to miss one, and Mr. Stobell, after eyeing her for some time in a manner strangely at variance with his words, drew his wife to one side and whispered fiercely in her ear.

  “Well, I sha’n’t go without her,” said Mrs. Stobell, rejoining the group. “What with losing that nice, airy bunk and getting that nasty, stuffy stateroom, I don’t feel like eating.”

  Mrs. Chalk’s countenance cleared. “Don’t you like it, dear?” she said, affectionately. “Change, by all means, if you don’t. Never mind about their stupid tossing.”

  Mrs. Stobell changed, and Mr. Tredgold senior, after waiting a decent interval for the sake of appearances, entreated both ladies to partake of the luncheon. Unable to resist any longer, Mrs. Chalk gave way, and in the ship’s boat, propelled by the brawny arms of two of the crew, went ashore with the others.

  Luncheon was waiting for them in the coffee-room of the inn, and the table was brave with flowers and bottles of champagne. Impressed by the occasion George the waiter attended upon them with unusual decorum, and the landlady herself entered the room two or three times to see that things were proceeding properly.

  “Here’s to our next meal on shore,” said Mr. Chalk, raising his glass and nodding solemnly at Edward.

  “That will be tea for me,” said the latter. “I shall come back here, I expect, and take a solitary cup to your memory. Let me have a word as soon as you can.”

  “You ought to get a cable from Sydney in about six or seven months,” said his father.

  His son nodded. “Don’t trouble about any expressions of affection,” he urged; “they’d come expensive. If you find me dead of overwork when you come back — —”

  “I shall contest the certificate,” said his father, with unwonted frivolity.

  “I wonder how we shall sleep to-night?” said Mrs. Stobell, with a little shiver. “Fancy, only a few planks between us and the water!”

  “That won’t keep me awake,” said Mrs. Chalk, decidedly; “but I shouldn’t sleep a wink if I had left my girls in the house, the same as you have. I should lie awake all night wondering what tricks they’d be up to.”

  “But you’ve left your house unprotected,” said Mrs. Stobell.

  “The house won’t run away,” retorted her friend, “and I’ve sent all my valuables to the bank and to friends to take care of, and had all my carpets taken up and beaten and warehoused. I can’t imagine what Mr. Stobell was thinking of not to let you do the same.”

  “There’s a lot as would like to know what I’m thinking of sometimes,” remarked Mr. Stobell, with a satisfied air.

  Mrs. Chalk glanced at him superciliously, but, remembering that he was her host, refrained from the only comments she felt to be suitable to the occasion. Under the tactful guidance of Edward Tredgold the conversation was led to shipwrecks, fires at sea, and other subjects of the kind comforting to the landsman, Mr. Chalk favouring them with a tale of a giant octopus, culled from Captain Bowers’s collection, which made Mrs. Stobell’s eyes dilate with horror.

  “You won’t see any octopuses,” said her husband. “You needn’t worry about them.”

  He got up from the table, and crossing to the window stood with his hands behind his back, smoking one of the “King of Hanover’s” cigars.

  “Very good smoke this,” he said, taking the cigar from his mouth and inspecting it critically. “I think I’ll take a box or two with me.”

  “Just what I was thinking,” said Mr. Jasper Tredgold. “Let’s go down and see the landlord.”

  Mr. Stobell followed him slowly from the room, leaving Mr. Chalk and Edward to entertain the ladies. The former gentleman, clad in a neat serge suit, an open collar, and a knotted necktie, leaned back in his chair, puffing contentedly at one of the cigars which had excited the encomiums of his friends. He was just about to help himself to a little more champagne when Mr. Stobell, reappearing at the door, requested him to come and give them the benefit of his opinion in the matter of cigars.

  “They don’t seem up to sample,” he said, with a growl; “and you’re a good judge of a cigar.”

  Mr. Chalk rose and followed him downstairs, where, to his great astonishment, he was at once seized by Mr. Tredgold and led outside.

  “Anything wrong?” he demanded.

  “We must get to the ship at once,” said Tredgold, in an excited whisper. “The men!”

  Mr. Chalk, much startled, clapped his hands to his head and spoke of going back for his hat.

  “Never mind about your hat,” said Stobell, impatiently; “we haven’t got ours either.”

  He took Mr. Chalk’s other arm and started off at a rapid pace.

  “What is the matter?” inquired Mr. Chalk, looking from one to the other.

  “Message from Captain Brisket to go on board at once, or he won’t be answerable for the consequences,” replied Tredgold, in a thrilling whisper; “and, above all, to bring Mr. Chalk to quiet the men.”

  Mr. Chalk turned a ghastly white. “Is it mutiny?” he faltered. “Already?”

  “Something o’ the sort,” said Stobell.

  Despite his friend’s great strength, Mr. Chalk for one moment almost brought him to a standstill. Then, in a tremulous voice, he spoke of going to the police.

  “We don’t want the police,” said Tredgold, sharply. “If you’re afraid, Chalk, you’d better go back and stay with the ladies while we settle the affair.”

  Mr. Chalk flushed, and holding his head erect said no more. Mr. Duckett and a waterman were waiting for them at the stairs, and, barely giving them time to jump in, pushed off and pulled with rapid strokes to the schooner. Mr. Chalk’s heart failed him as they drew near and he saw men moving rapidly about her deck. His last thoughts as he clambered over the side were of his wife.

  In blissful ignorance of his proceedings, Mrs. Chalk, having adjusted her cap in the glass and drawn on her gloves, sat patiently awaiting his return. She even drew a good-natured comparison between the time spent on choosing cigars and bonnets.

  “There’s plenty of time,” she said, in reply to an uneasy remark of Mrs. Stobell’s. “It’s only just three, and we don’t sail until four. What is that horrid, clanking noise?”

  “Some craft getting up her anchor,” said Edward, going to the window and leaning out. “WHY! HALLOA!”

  “What’s the matter?” said both ladies.

  Edward drew in his head and regarded them with an expression of some bewilderment.

  “It’s the Fair Emily,” he said, slowly, “and she’s hoisting her sails.”

  “Just trying the machinery to see that it’s all right, I suppose,” said Mrs. Chalk. “My husband said that Captain Brisket is a very careful man.”

  Edward Tredgold made no reply. He glanced first at three hats standing in a row on the sideboard, and then at the ladies as they came to the window, and gazed with innocent curiosity at the schooner. Even as they looked she drew slowly ahead, and a boat piled up with luggage, which had been lying the other side of her, became visible. Mrs. Chalk gazed at it in stupefaction.

  “It can’t be ours,” she gasped. “They — they’d never dare! They — they—”

  She stood for a moment staring at the hats on the sideboard, and then, followed by the others, ran hastily downstairs. There was a hurried questioning of the astonished landlady, and then, Mrs. Chalk leading, they made their way to the stairs at a pace remarkable in a woman of her age and figure. Mrs. Stobell, assisted by Edward Tredgold, did her best to keep up with her, but she reached the goal some distance ahead, and, jumping heavily into a boat, pointed to the fast-receding schooner and bade the boatman overtake it.

  “Can’t be done, ma’am,” said the man, staring, “not without wings.”

  “Row hard,” said Mrs. Chalk, in a voice of sharp encouragement.

  The boatman, a man of few words, jerked his thumb in the direction of the Fair Emily, which was already responding to the motion o
f the sea outside.

  “You run up the road on to them cliffs and wave to’em,” he said, slowly. “Wave ‘ard.”

  Mrs. Chalk hesitated, and then, stepping out of the boat, resumed the pursuit by land. Ten minutes’ hurried walking brought them to the cliffs, and standing boldly on the verge she enacted, to the great admiration of a small crowd, the part of a human semaphore.

  The schooner, her bows pointing gradually seawards, for some time made no sign. Then a little group clustered at the stern and waved farewells.

  CHAPTER XIV

  Mrs. Chalk watched the schooner until it was a mere white speck on the horizon, a faint idea that it might yet see the error of its ways and return for her chaining her to the spot. Compelled at last to recognise the inevitable, she rose from the turf on which she had been sitting and, her face crimson with wrath, denounced husbands in general and her own in particular.

  “It’s my husband’s doing, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Stobell, with a side glance at her friend’s attire, not entirely devoid of self- congratulation. “That’s why he wouldn’t let me have a yachting costume. I can see it now.”

  Mrs. Chalk turned and eyed her with angry disdain.

  “And that’s why he wouldn’t let me bring more than one box,” continued Mrs. Stobell, with the air of one to whom all things had been suddenly revealed; “and why he wouldn’t shut the house up. Oh, just fancy what a pickle I should have been in if I had! I must say it was thoughtful of him.”

  “Thoughtful!” exclaimed Mrs. Chalk, in a choking voice.

  “And I ought to have suspected something,” continued Mrs. Stobell, “because he kissed me this morning. I can see now that he meant it for goodbye! Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Robert always does get his own way.”

  “If you hadn’t persuaded me to come ashore for that wretched luncheon,” said Mrs. Chalk, in a deep voice, “we should have been all right.”

  “I’m sure I wasn’t to know,” said her friend, “although I certainly thought it odd when Robert said that he had got it principally for you. I could see you were a little bit flattered.”

  Mrs. Chalk, trembling with anger, sought in vain for a retort.

  “Well, it’s no good staying here,” said Mrs. Stobell, philosophically. “We had better get home.”

  “Home!” cried Mrs. Chalk, as a vision of her bare floors and dismantled walls rose before her. “When I think of the deceitfulness of those men, giving us champagne and talking about the long evenings on board, I don’t know what to do with myself. And your father was one of them,” she added, turning suddenly upon Edward.

  Mr. Tredgold disowned his erring parent with some haste, and, being by this time rather tired of the proceedings, suggested that they should return to the inn and look up trains — a proposal to which Mrs. Chalk, after a final glance seawards, silently assented. With head erect she led the way down to the town again, her bearing being so impressive that George the waiter, who had been watching for them, after handing her a letter which had been entrusted to him, beat a precipitate retreat.

  The letter, which was from Mr. Stobell, was short and to the point. It narrated the artifice by which Mr. Chalk had been lured away, and concluded with a general statement that women were out of place on shipboard. This, Mrs. Stobell declared, after perusing the letter, was intended for an apology.

  Mrs. Chalk received the information in stony silence, and, declining tea, made her way to the station and mounted guard over her boxes until the train was due. With the exception of saying “Indeed!” on three or four occasions she kept silent all the way to Binchester, and, arrived there, departed for home in a cab, in spite of a most pressing invitation from Mrs. Stobell to stay with her until her own house was habitable.

  Mr. Tredgold parted from them both with relief. The voyage had been a source of wonder to him from its first inception, and the day’s proceedings had only served to increase the mystery. He made a light supper and, the house being too quiet for his taste, went for a meditative stroll. The shops were closed and the small thoroughfares almost deserted. He wondered whether it was too late to call and talk over the affair with Captain Bowers, and, still wondering, found himself in Dialstone Lane.

  Two or three of the houses were in darkness, but there was a cheerful light behind the drawn blind of the captain’s sitting-room. He hesitated a moment and then rapped lightly on the door, and no answer being forthcoming rapped again. The door opened and revealed the amiable features of Mr. Tasker.

  “Captain Bowers has gone to London, sir,” he said.

  Mr. Tredgold drew his right foot back three inches, and at the same time tried to peer into the room.

  “We’re expecting him back every moment,” said Mr. Tasker, encouragingly.

  Mr. Tredgold moved his foot forward again and pondered. “It’s very late, but I wanted to see him rather particularly,” he murmured, as he stepped into the room.

  “Miss Drewitt’s in the garden,” said Joseph.

  Mr. Tredgold started and eyed him suspiciously. Mr. Tasker’s face, however, preserving its usual appearance of stolid simplicity, his features relaxed and he became thoughtful again.

  “Perhaps I might go into the garden,” he suggested.

  “I should if I was you, sir,” said Joseph, preceding him and throwing open the back door. “It’s fresher out there.”

  Mr. Tredgold stepped into the garden and stood blinking in the sudden darkness. There was no moon and the night was cloudy, a fact which accounted for his unusual politeness towards a cypress of somewhat stately bearing which stood at one corner of the small lawn. He replaced his hat hastily, and an apologetic remark concerning the lateness of his visit was never finished. A trifle confused, he walked down the garden, peering right and left as he went, but without finding the object of his search. Twice he paced the garden from end to end, and he had just arrived at the conclusion that Mr. Tasker had made a mistake when a faint sound high above his head apprised him of the true state of affairs.

  He stood listening in amazement, but the sound was not repeated. Ordinary prudence and a sense of the fitness of things suggested that he should go home; inclination suggested that he should seat himself in the deck-chair at the foot of the crow’s-nest and await events. He sat down to consider the matter.

  Sprawling comfortably in the chair he lit his pipe, his ear on the alert to catch the slightest sound of the captive in the cask above. The warm air was laden with the scent of flowers, and nothing stirred with the exception of Mr. Tasker’s shadow on the blind of the kitchen window. The clock in the neighbouring church chimed the three-quarters, and in due time boomed out the hour of ten. Mr. Tredgold knocked the ashes from his pipe and began seriously to consider his position. Lights went out in the next house. Huge shadows appeared on the kitchen blind and the light gradually faded, to reappear triumphantly in the room above. Anon the shadow of Mr. Tasker’s head was seen wrestling fiercely with its back collar-stud.

  “Mr. Tredgold!” said a sharp voice from above.

  Mr. Tredgold sprang to his feet, overturning the chair in his haste, and gazed aloft.

  “Miss Drewitt!” he cried, in accents of intense surprise.

  “I am coming down,” said the voice.

  “Pray be careful,” said Mr. Tredgold, anxiously; “it is very dark. Can I help you?”

  “Yes — you can go indoors,” said Miss Drewitt.

  Her tone was so decided and so bitter that Mr. Tredgold, merely staying long enough to urge extreme carefulness in the descent, did as he was desired. He went into the sitting-room and, standing uneasily by the fireplace, tried to think out his line of action. He was still floundering when he heard swift footsteps coming up the garden, and Miss Drewitt, very upright and somewhat flushed of face, confronted him.

  “I — I called to see the captain,” he said, hastily, “and Joseph told me you were in the garden. I couldn’t see you anywhere, so I took the liberty of sitting out there to wait for the captain’s return.”
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  Miss Drewitt listened impatiently. “Did you know that I was up in the crow’s-nest?” she demanded.

  “Joseph never said a word about it,” said Mr. Tredgold, with an air of great frankness. “He merely said that you were in the garden, and, not being able to find you, I thought that he was mistaken.”

  “Did you know that I was up in the crow’s-nest?” repeated Miss Drewitt, with ominous persistency.

  “A — a sort of idea that you might be there did occur to me after a time,” admitted the other.

  “Did you know that I was there?”

  Mr. Tredgold gazed at her in feeble indignation, but the uselessness of denial made truth easier. “Yes,” he said, slowly.

  “Thank you,” said the girl, scornfully. “You thought that I shouldn’t like to be caught up there, and that it would be an amusing and gentlemanly thing to do to keep me a prisoner. I quite understand. My estimate of you has turned out to be correct.”

  “It was quite an accident,” urged Mr. Tredgold, humbly. “I’ve had a very worrying day seeing them off at Biddlecombe, and when I heard you up in the nest I succumbed to sudden temptation. If I had stopped to think — if I had had the faintest idea that you would catechise me in the way you have done — I shouldn’t have dreamt of doing such a thing.”

  Miss Drewitt, who was standing with her hand on the latch of the door leading upstairs, as a hint that the interview was at an end, could not restrain her indignation.

  “Your father and his friends have gone off to secure my uncle’s treasure, and you come straight on here,” she cried, hotly. “Do you think that there is no end to his good-nature?”

  “Treasure?” said the other, with a laugh. “Why, that idea was knocked on the head when the map was burnt. Even Chalk wouldn’t go on a roving commission to dig over all the islands in the South Pacific.”

  “I don’t see anything to laugh at,” said the girl; “my uncle fully intended to burn it. He was terribly upset when he found that it had disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” cried Mr. Tredgold, in accents of unmistakable amazement. “Why, wasn’t it burnt after all? The captain said it was.”