Salthaven. William Wymark Jacobs

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СКАЧАТЬ "This is the way I look at it. We all think he is a very nice fellow, don't we?"

      "He is," said Hartley, decidedly.

      "And we all think she's a splendid girl, don't we?" continued the other.

      "Something of the sort," said Hartley, smiling.

      "There you are, then," said the captain, triumphantly. "What is more likely than that they should think the same of each other? Besides, I know what he thinks; I can read him like a book."

      "You can't read Joan, though," said the other. "Why, she often puzzles me."

      "I can try," said the captain. "I haven't known her all these years for nothing. Now, don't tell her we saw her. You leave her to me—and listen."

      "Better leave her alone," said Hartley.

      The captain, who was deep in thought, waved the suggestion aside. He walked the remainder of the way in silence, and even after they were in the house was so absorbed in his self-appointed task, and so vague in his replies, that Joan, after offering him the proverbial penny for his thoughts, suggested to her father in a loud whisper that he had got something in mind.

      "Thinking of the ships he has lost," she said, in a still louder whisper.

      The captain smiled and shook his head at her.

      "Couldn't lose a ship if I tried," he said, nudging Hartley to call his attention to what was to follow. "I was saying so to Mr. Robert only yesterday!"

      His voice was so deliberate, and his manner so significant, that Miss Hartley looked up in surprise. Then she coloured furiously as she saw both gentlemen eying her with the air of physicians on the lookout for unfavourable symptoms. Anger only deepened her colour, and an unladylike and unfilial yearning to bang their two foolish heads together possessed her. Explanations were impossible, and despite her annoyance she almost smiled as she saw the concern in the eye the captain turned on her father.

      "Saying so only yesterday," repeated the former, "to Mr. Robert."

      "I saw him this afternoon," said Joan, with forced composure. "I went up to father's room and found him there. Why didn't you tell me you had given up your room, father?"

      Mr. Hartley pleaded in excuse that he thought he had told her, and was surprised at the vehemence of her denial. With a slightly offended air he pointed out that it was a very small matter after all.

      "There is nothing to be annoyed about," he said.

      "You went there to see me, and, not finding me there, came down again."

      "Ye-es," said Joan, thoughtfully.

      "Just put her head in at the door and fled," explained the captain, still watching her closely.

      Miss Hartley appeared not to have heard him.

      "Came down three stairs at a time," he continued, with a poor attempt at a chuckle.

      "I was there about half an hour waiting for father," said Joan, eying him very steadily. "I thought that he was in the other office. Is there anything else I can tell you?"

      The captain collapsed suddenly, and, turning a red face upon Hartley, appealed to him mutely for succour.

      "Me?" he spluttered, feebly. "I—I don't want to know anything. Your father thought—"

      "I didn't think anything," said Hartley, with some haste.

      The captain eyed him reproachfully. "I thought your father thought—" he began, and, drawing out a large handkerchief, blew his nose violently.

      "Yes?" said Joan, still very erect.

      "That is all," said the captain, with an air of dignity.

      He brushed some imaginary atoms from his beard, and, finding the girl's gaze still somewhat embarrassing, sought to relieve the tension.

      "I've known you since you were five," he said, with inconsequent pathos.

      "I know," said Joan, smiling, and putting her hand on his broad shoulder. "You're a dear old stupid; that is all."

      "Always was," said the relieved captain, "from a child."

      He began, with a cheerful countenance, to narrate anecdotes of his stupidity until, being interrupted by Hartley with one or two choice examples that he had forgotten, he rose and muttered something about seeing the garden. His progress was stayed by a knock at the front door and an intimation from Rosa that he was wanted.

      "My bo'sun," he said, reentering the room with a letter. "Excuse me."

      He broke the seal, and turned to Hartley with a short laugh. "Peter Truefitt," he said, "wants me to meet him at nine o'clock and go home together, pretending that he has been here with me. Peter is improving."

      "But he can't go on like this forever," said his scandalized friend.

      "He's all right," said the captain, with a satisfied wink. "I'm looking after him. I'm stage-manager. I'll see–"

      His voice faltered, and then died away as he caught Miss Hartley's eye and noticed the air of artless astonishment with which she was regarding him.

      "Always was from a child," she quoted.

      The captain ignored her.

      "I'll just give Walters a note," he said, turning to Hartley with some dignity. "You don't mind his waiting?"

      He turned to a small writing-table, and with an air of preoccupation, assumed for Miss Hartley's benefit, began to try a pen on his thumb-nail. Hartley, going to the door, sent the boatswain off to the kitchen for a glass of ale.

      "Or perhaps you prefer tea?" he added, thoughtfully.

      "Ale will do, sir," said Mr. Walters, humbly.

      He walked to the kitchen, and, pushing the door open softly, went in. Rosa Jelks, who was sitting down reading, put aside her book and smiled welcome.

      "Sit down," she said, patronizingly; "sit down."

      "I was going to," said Mr. Walters. "I'm to 'ave a glass of ale."

      "Say 'please,'" said Rosa, shaking her yellow locks at him, and rising to take a glass from the dresser.

      She walked into the scullery humming a tune, and the pleasant sound of beer falling into a glass fell on the boatswain's ears. He stroked his small black moustache and smiled.

      "Would you like me to take a sip at the glass first?" inquired Rosa, coming back carefully with a brimming glass, "just to give it a flavour?"

      Mr. Walters stared at her in honest amazement. After a moment he remarked gruffly that the flavour of the ale itself was good enough for him. Rosa's eyes sparkled.

      "Just a sip," she pleaded.

      "Go on, then," said Mr. Walters, grudgingly.

      "Chin, chin!" said Rosa.

      The boatswain's face relaxed. Then it hardened suddenly and a dazed look crept into his eyes as Rosa, drinking about two-thirds of the ale, handed him the remainder.

      "That's СКАЧАТЬ