For the Term of His Natural Life. Marcus Andrew Hislop Clarke

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      “And the next morning to hear of the murder of her cousin! You know that we are connected with the Bellasis family. My aunt's father married a sister of the second Lord Bellasis.”

      “Indeed. That was a horrible murder. So you think that the dreadful man you pointed out the other day did it?”

      “The jury seemed to think not,” said Mr. Frere, with a laugh; “but I don't know anybody else who could have a motive for it. However, I'll go on deck and have a smoke.”

      “I wonder what induced that old hunks of a shipbuilder to try to cut off his only son in favour of a cub of that sort,” said Surgeon Pine to Captain Vickers as the broad back of Mr. Maurice Frere disappeared up the companion.

      “Some boyish follies abroad, I believe; self-made men are always impatient of extravagance. But it is hard upon Frere. He is not a bad sort of fellow for all his roughness, and when a young man finds that an accident deprives him of a quarter of a million of money and leaves him without a sixpence beyond his commission in a marching regiment under orders for a convict settlement, he has some reason to rail against fate.”

      “How was it that the son came in for the money after all, then?”

      “Why, it seems that when old Devine returned from sending for his lawyer to alter his will, he got a fit of apoplexy, the result of his rage, I suppose, and when they opened his room door in the morning they found him dead.”

      “And the son's away on the sea somewhere,” said Mr. Vickers “and knows nothing of his good fortune. It is quite a romance.”

      “I am glad that Frere did not get the money,” said Pine, grimly sticking to his prejudice; “I have seldom seen a face I liked less, even among my yellow jackets yonder.”

      “Oh dear, Dr. Pine! How can you?” interjected Mrs. Vickers. “'Pon my soul, ma'am, some of them have mixed in good society, I can tell you. There's pickpockets and swindlers down below who have lived in the best company.”

      “Dreadful wretches!” cried Mrs. Vickers, shaking out her skirts. “John, I will go on deck.”

      At the signal, the party rose.

      “Ecod, Pine,” says Captain Blunt, as the two were left alone together, “you and I are always putting our foot into it!”

      “Women are always in the way aboard ship,” returned Pine.

      “Ah! Doctor, you don't mean that, I know,” said a rich soft voice at his elbow.

      It was Sarah Purfoy emerging from her cabin.

      “Here is the wench!” cries Blunt. “We are talking of your eyes, my dear.” “Well, they'll bear talking about, captain, won't they?” asked she, turning them full upon him.

      “By the Lord, they will!” says Blunt, smacking his hand on the table. “They're the finest eyes I've seen in my life, and they've got the reddest lips under 'm that—”

      “Let me pass, Captain Blunt, if you please. Thank you, doctor.”

      And before the admiring commander could prevent her, she modestly swept out of the cuddy.

      “She's a fine piece of goods, eh?” asked Blunt, watching her. “A spice o' the devil in her, too.”

      Old Pine took a huge pinch of snuff.

      “Devil! I tell you what it is, Blunt. I don't know where Vickers picked her up, but I'd rather trust my life with the worst of those ruffians 'tween decks, than in her keeping, if I'd done her an injury.”

      Blunt laughed.

      “I don't believe she'd think much of sticking a man, either!” he said, rising. “But I must go on deck, doctor.” Pine followed him more slowly. “I don't pretend to know much about women,” he said to himself, “but that girl's got a story of her own, or I'm much mistaken. What brings her on board this ship as lady's-maid is more than I can fathom.” And as, sticking his pipe between his teeth, he walked down the now deserted deck to the main hatchway, and turned to watch the white figure gliding up and down the poop-deck, he saw it joined by another and a darker one, he muttered, “She's after no good, I'll swear.”

      At that moment his arm was touched by a soldier in undress uniform, who had come up the hatchway. “What is it?”

      The man drew himself up and saluted.

      “If you please, doctor, one of the prisoners is taken sick, and as the dinner's over, and he's pretty bad, I ventured to disturb your honour.”

      “You ass!” says Pine—who, like many gruff men, had a good heart under his rough shell—“why didn't you tell me before?” and knocking the ashes out of his barely-lighted pipe, he stopped that implement with a twist of paper and followed his summoner down the hatchway.

      In the meantime the woman who was the object of the grim old fellow's suspicions was enjoying the comparative coolness of the night air. Her mistress and her mistress's daughter had not yet come out of their cabin, and the men had not yet finished their evening's tobacco. The awning had been removed, the stars were shining in the moonless sky, the poop guard had shifted itself to the quarter-deck, and Miss Sarah Purfoy was walking up and down the deserted poop, in close tête-à-tête with no less a person than Captain Blunt himself. She had passed and repassed him twice silently, and at the third turn the big fellow, peering into the twilight ahead somewhat uneasily, obeyed the glitter of her great eyes, and joined her.

      “You weren't put out, my wench,” he asked, “at what I said to you below?”

      She affected surprise.

      “What do you mean?”

      “Why, at my—at what I—at my rudeness, there! For I was a bit rude, I admit.”

      “I? Oh dear, no. You were not rude.”

      “Glad you think so!” returned Phineas Blunt, a little ashamed at what looked like a confession of weakness on his part.

      “You would have been—if I had let you.”

      “How do you know?”

      “I saw it in your face. Do you think a woman can't see in a man's face when he's going to insult her?”

      “Insult you, hey! Upon my word!”

      “Yes, insult me. You're old enough to be my father, Captain Blunt, but you've no right to kiss me, unless I ask you.”

      “Haw, haw!” laughed Blunt. “I like that. Ask me! Egad, I wish you would, you black-eyed minx!”

      “So would other people, I have no doubt.” “That soldier officer, for instance. Hey, Miss Modesty? I've seen him looking at you as though he'd like to try.”

      The girl flashed at him with a quick side glance.

      “You mean Lieutenant Frere, I suppose. Are you jealous of him?”

      “Jealous! Why, damme, the lad was only breeched СКАЧАТЬ