CHAPTER XXIII
THE OLD SAILOR SETS MATTERS STRAIGHT
Having made over the whole of his worldly property to Joshua and Ellen "for better or worse," it was reasonable that Praiseworthy Meddler should have considerable weight in the family council of the Marvels. The arrangement whereby Joshua left his home a day before his ship was to sail was entirely of the Old Sailor's making; he and he alone was responsible for it. Naturally enough, when he had at first proposed it, he had met with opposition-especially from Mrs. Marvel, who wished Joshua to remain with them until the last moment. But, after a private conversation with the Old Sailor, she had yielded to his wish, and had even used arguments to induce Joshua's readier compliance. That being obtained, the Old Sailor informed them that he had a lady-friend at Gravesend, name Mrs. Eliza Friswell, who was a married woman herself with a family, and who kept a respectable boarding-house, with whom he had arranged that Ellen should stay until the anchor of the "Merry Andrew" was weighed; substantiating his statement by a letter from Mrs. Eliza Friswell to Mrs. Marvel, in which Mrs. Eliza-as the Old Sailor called her-undertook to look after Ellen as "one of her own." On the morning of Joshua's departure from Stepney, the Old Sailor, dressed in his best, and decorated with a bunch of flowers in honor of Ellen, had called for his pretty lass and had taken her away, leaving a message that if Joshua did not arrive at Gravesend exactly at the appointed time, Ellen had consented to run away with him-to wit, Praiseworthy Meddler-and get married. Very proud was the Old Sailor of his charge, and very tender and confidential was the nature of his communications to her as they made their way to Gravesend. What it was that made her blush and laugh and cry in turns-what it was that made her serious one moment and glad the next-was known only to themselves. Certainly no one was taken into their confidence until they arrived at Mrs. Eliza's, when, with a fatherly kiss, he delivered Ellen into the charge of that estimable matron. Mrs. Eliza's husband was a boatman, rough and strong as a boatman should be: with a great red face and great red hands, and with a voice that rumbled from his great deep chest with such thunderous power as to render such a thing as a whisper physically impossible. He was the owner of a fleet of four boats, which had been bought and paid for in shrimps and watercresses, or, at all events, with the profits made by Mrs. Eliza out of those delicacies, which she purveyed to the easily-satisfied amorous British public, with stale bread-and-butter and an imitation of tea, at nine pence per head.
Praiseworthy Meddler was fraternizing with Mrs. Eliza's husband when Joshua made his appearance. Mrs. Eliza's husband immediately sheered off, and the Old Sailor took Joshua in tow. In response to the Old Sailor's remark that he was late, Joshua, who felt very despondent, said that parting from those at home took a longer time than he had expected.
"Ay, my lad," said the Old Sailor gravely, "'tis a hard word, good-by, when said to those we love. A long time with Dan, I dare say now?"
"Yes, sir; but it didn't seem long. Time flies faster at some times than others."
"Ay; flies fastest when we most want it to hold out. Mother and father all right?"
"As right as may be, sir. Crying more now, I know by my own feelings, than when I was with them. Kept up for my sake, sir, to give me courage." And Joshua turned aside.
"No need to be ashamed of your tears, my lad. Gentle thoughts and a gentle heart go together. Some people say 'tis unmanly to cry, but I wouldn't give much for the man who never cried, or who wasn't sometimes so near it as to feel a gulping in the throat. 'Tis as much crying, that is, as if the tears were rolling down his face. I've felt like it myself, I'm glad to say."
"You are very kind to me, sir."
"You deserve it, Josh, you deserve it, though I've a doubt that you're a bit blind to some things."
"To what things, sir?"
"Gently my lad, gently. Plenty of time to talk."
The gravity of the Old Sailor was contagious, and Joshua felt that the good old fellow was about to say something which he deemed of importance.
"Where is Ellen, sir?"
"In the house with Mrs. Eliza. She is happy and comfortable, my lad; and when you and me have had our bit of talk, we will go in to her. She knows that we're together, and that we've got something to speak about. As you turned the street, she put her pretty head out of window there-you didn't know the house or you'd have seen her do it, like a true sailor as you are-and when she saw us together, she put her pretty head in again, satisfied. And you left everybody at home all right, eh? Grieving naturally to be sure, but otherways all right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let us walk as we talk," said the Old Sailor, hooking his arm in Joshua's, and walking in the direction of the river. "Or we shall talk better in a boat, perhaps; Mrs. Eliza's husband shall paddle us about the while."
"But I should like to see Ellen just for one minute first.
"To begin your kissing, eh, my lad?" said the Old Sailor, with a roguish, laugh. "No, no; you'll have plenty of time for that. I'm in command now, and I'll have no mutineering, or I'll put you in irons. You'll not like them as well as Ellen's pretty arms." Notwithstanding the light nature of the Old Sailor's word's, Joshua detected a serious mood beneath them, and with a good grace he walked to the landing-place and stepped into the boat which Mrs. Eliza's husband held ready.
"So you were a long time with Dan, my lad," remarked the Old Sailor, when they were launched. "What did you talk about mostly?"
"The old things, sir, – ourselves mostly?"
"You have no secrets from Dan, my lad?"
"No, sir, none."
"And he has none from you?"
"None, sir."
"And yet I'll be bound," said the Old Sailor, looking steadily at Joshua, and compelling Joshua to return his gaze, "that there was something which you might have spoken of had you not been restrained by a feeling, say, of kindness to Dan. What, now?"
"There was something, sir," replied Joshua, wondering what this conversation, so singularly commenced, would lead to.
"Ah!" ejaculated the Old Sailor, rubbing his knees in a satisfied manner; "let us hear what that something was."
"You speak so earnestly, sir," said Joshua, inwardly questioning himself, "that I must be careful not to conceal any thing from you-not that I have any reason nor that I wish to do so, but something might escape me. I must first say, though that you must not expect me to break any confidence-that supposing Dan had a secret, and had imparted it to me, I should not be justified in telling that secret to any one else."
"Fair and honest, my lad; what I expected from you."
"Well, then, I have been sorry to find that Mr. Kindred" -
"Minnie's father-yes," interrupted the Old Sailor, with a sharp look at Joshua.
"Has been changed to all of us lately, and especially to me; and I have been sorry to think that it is because of something which I have done that he is so changed."
"You know of nothing, Josh?"
"Nothing-absolutely nothing; and that's what grieves me. If I did know, I should be able to justify myself. Why, sir, this morning he refused to see me when I went to wish him good-by, and refused to let me see Minnie. I did not speak of this thing to Dan because of my love for him."
"And because," said the Old Sailor, "supposing that Dan had a secret and had imparted it to you, you thought that Dan would be easier in his mind-in consequence of his secret-if he did not know of Mr. Kindred's strange refusal to see you."
"Just so, sir."
"Could I guess this secret of Dan's?" questioned the Old Sailor. "Could an old tar like me, who wouldn't be supposed to know much of boys and girls and their whims and whams, venture to guess that this secret of our dear friend Dan's was all about a woman?"
Joshua did not reply.
"And such a woman!" continued the Old Sailor. "With eyes as bright as the stars, and with hair like a mermaid's. As cunning as a mermaid too; not wickedly cunning-no, no; but 'tis in her to be so; and she needs weaning from it, like a babe."
Very gentle was the Old Sailor's voice; and greatly did Joshua wonder, not at its gentleness, for that was natural to the old man, but at the wisdom of the words that came from his lips. All his roughness was gone; all his pleasantry was gone; all his simplicity was laid aside for the time; and the Old Sailor spoke as if all his life he had been studying woman's nature until he was master of its complexities. But such deep wisdom often comes from very simplicity.
"Lord love you, my lad!" he said, "how blind you have been! Here has been a woman's heart laid bare to you, and you have not suspected it."
Joshua trembled with apprehension. "For Heaven's sake, sir," he implored, "speak more plainly!"
"I intend to do so, Joshua; for this is the solemnest time of your life. I have considered the matter deeply, and I can see but one right thing to do; but I am running ahead too fast. Steady there, steady. As I said a time ago, here has been a woman's heart laid bare to you, and you have not suspected it. What woman, now? But 'tis not right to ask, mayhap."
"Ask me any thing, sir; I will answer truly."
"What woman do you love?"
"Ellen."
"Ellen? And Ellen only?"
"And Ellen only. None other; nor ever shall, if it is given to man to know his heart."
"Good! Answered like yourself; answered like the lad I used to see looking out on the river that runs to the sea; like the lad my old heart warmed to because there was honesty in his face; like the lad who has grown to be a man, and who sits afore me now with truth in his eyes."
"Thank you for that, sir."
"What woman does this lad, now grown to be a man, love? Ellen-the pretty Ellen, the truest-hearted, gentlest-hearted, kindest-hearted, dearest lass on all the high seas. What woman does Joshua's friend Dan love? That's a question I ask myself. 'Tis easily answered. Minnie-Minnie with the mermaid's hair, and with eyes bright as the stars. Does Minnie love Dan? Yes; but not as Dan wants her to love him. Why? Because there is some one in the way."
"Who, sir?" Joshua was constrained to ask, but dreading the answer.
"She loves Dan's friend Joshua better than she loves Dan. Let that friend, who sits afore me now, search his heart and his mind, and let him say what he thinks. He knows her nature; has been her friend since she was a girl; and, cunning as a woman may be, no woman can be cunning enough to hide her love always from the man she loves, though she may hide it from all the rest of the world. It happens sometimes in a man's life that he may be unconscious of a thing for years perhaps, it being present to him all the time, until, sometimes in one way, sometimes in another, a sudden light is thrown upon it, and he sees in a flash what he has been blind to all his life before."
"You are right, sir," said Joshua sadly. "It has happened to me now. I have been blind."
As he sat, sadly looking at the evening shadows reflected in the river, every circumstance connected with his intimacy with Minnie came to his mind with an interpretation different from that it had borne before. Her pretty fancy of the shell, which he had thought of often as a childish conceit bore a different meaning now. Tender looks and simple acts, which had pleased him at the time, gathered strength, and became more than tokens of mere friendship. Child as she was when he first went to sea, he recognized now that she had more than the strength of a child; that even then, indeed, she was almost a woman. When he came back, a man, she had saved his life; and when he thanked her for it-surely he could do no less! – she told him that she did not want thanks, for the having saved his life would ever be her sweetest remembrance. "Little Minnie, little Minnie," he had said, kissing her, "thank you for your devotion." He remembered that she trembled, and that something like a sob escaped her when he had kissed her. Had he done wrong? Was he to blame? All he had done had been innocently done, as from a brother to a sister. And her feelings were known to others when they had been hidden from him. Minnie's secret was known to her father and to Susan. That was the reason why Basil Kindred had questioned him so strangely, and had told him the story of his life. Words uttered by Basil, which had borne no direct signification when they were spoken, came to him now with startling vividness. "Young men are often thoughtless in their actions," Basil had said; "they do not know the depth and earnestness of some womanly natures." The revelation that had come to him served also to account for Susan's singular conduct that very morning.
"So," he thought; "they believe I have been playing with Minnie's feelings; and both of them have condemned me. And I at the same time engaged to Ellen! It is too dreadful to think of. What can I do? Oh, what can I do?"
The unspoken words rended him to the soul; he was enveloped in a despairing darkness. But a greater terror than all fell upon him when he thought of Dan. In such a momentous crisis as that through which Joshua's mind was passing, nothing of the past is unremembered. Words which otherwise are borne in mind only by their sense come back as if they were just being, uttered. When Dan had imparted to Joshua the secret of his love for Minnie, he had said, "A great hope, shadowed by a great fear, has entered my soul; a hope which, fulfilled, would make earth heaven for me. Is it too precious a thing to pray for? It seems so to me. I tremble as I think of it. But if it is not to be, I hope I shall soon die." And Joshua heard again that cry from Dan's soul, almost word for word. The sacred nature of the love existing between Dan and Joshua needs to be understood to realize the terrible fear that smote Joshua at the present time. If Dan should ever come to believe him false, he would not wish to live: for the salt would have gone out of his life forever.
For full a quarter of an hour Joshua was wrapped in painful thought; and the Old Sailor had not disturbed him. But now, as he raised his tearful eyes to the Old Sailor's face, the Old Sailor laid his hand gently upon Joshua's knee, and said, -
"Well, Joshua, and how do you make it out?"
"As bad as it well can be, sir. This is the hardest stroke I have ever had. I do not think that even you can understand how hard it is for me."
"Because of Dan?"
"Because of Dan, sir. I have no need to hide Dan's secret from you now-you know it; but if Dan should be disappointed in his love for Minnie, I don't know what effect it would have upon him. All this is very terrible. I don't need to assure you, sir, that I have been entirely blameless, and that I have never treated Minnie in any way but that of an honored sister."
"You do not, my lad," said the Old Sailor, with an evident brightening up in his manner; "I am satisfied of that. But what do we do when a storm comes? Do we run and bury our heads in our hammocks, or do we stand up like men to meet it and battle with it? – as we are going to meet this storm, which has come upon us unaware, and from no fault of our'n. Like men, Josh; we're going to meet it like men. I am looking it straight in the face. No wonder it made you stagger when it come upon you sudden. It set my old head a-thinking when I found it out-though it only come upon me by degrees, and after a deal of watching. Just you think a bit now, Josh, and tell me if you don't see any way of getting the ship off the rocks."
"I can see no way, sir," said Joshua, after a little anxious pondering; "all is dark around me."
The Old Sailor laughed a quiet little laugh.
"Lord, Lord how blind these youngsters are! Here's a sailor that's lost his reckoning, and running the danger of seeing his ship break up before his eyes; and all the while there's a smooth-water bay close alongside him, and a friendly craft waiting to give him a hand."
"Where is that bay, sir?"
"Steady, my lad, steady. Let's see what we've got to do. Firstly, our duty to every body, right round. Next, to make two persons, who ought to know better, ashamed of themselves for misjudging of us. Next, to make every thing so snug that our friend Dan sha'n't suffer from any fault of our'n. Next, to teach a gentle lesson to a mermaid of a girl who's got a notion in her head that's no business to be there, but who otherways is as good as gold. It's a riddle, my lad, and I've got the key to it in my pocket."
"May I see it, sir?"
"You may, and shall, Josh," said the Old Sailor, with a sly chuckle. "It was to give you the key, that I brought you out here to talk."
And the Old Sailor took from his breast his blue-cotton pocket-handkerchief, upon which was imprinted the twelve-hundred-ton ship, with all its sails set to a favorable breeze. There was a knot in the handkerchief; which the Old Sailor undid with his teeth, keeping his eyes fixed upon Joshua's face all the while. The knot being untied, the Old Sailor took from the handkerchief a very small parcel in silver paper, and handed it to Joshua in perfect silence.
Joshua opened the silver paper, and found in it a wedding-ring.
He looked at the tiny symbol with a beating heart, and a glimmering of the Old Sailor's meaning dawned upon his mind.
"That's the key, my lad," said the Old Sailor, with a triumphant expression on his honest, weather-beaten face; "that's the key to it all. You put that ring upon pretty Ellen's finger to-morrow morning early, and what happens? Why, you spend your honeymoon here in Gravesend with your little wife; and when the 'Merry Andrew' sets sail, – which won't be to-morrow, Josh; I've found that out, – Ellen goes back to Stepney with that pretty bit of gold on her finger. Says she, 'I'm married-married to Joshua.' 'Married' says they, all but one of 'em; 'married!' And surprised they are, all but one of 'em. 'Who made you do it?' says they, all but one of 'em. 'Mr. Meddler,' says she; 'Mr. Meddler made me do it. He's a hard-hearted old shark, and he made me do it. But I'm not sorry for it,' says she; 'I'm glad of it. And I'd do it over again to-morrow; for I've got a true-hearted man for a husband, and all I've got to do is to pray that he may come back safe to me and to all of us.' With that they all fall a-kissing one another, which is but right under the circumstances. What happens then? Says Susan, 'I was mistaken; Joshua is as he always was.' Says Mr. Kindred, 'Minnie is safe. God bless Joshua for doing what he has done.' Says Minnie to herself, 'It's no use my loving a married man. I've been a foolish girl, and what I've got to do is to love Joshua like a brother, as he has always loved me-like brother and sister; that's all we can ever be to one another.' Then she turns to Dan, and loves that tender-hearted friend, – who ought to have been a man six foot high, with his limbs as sound as our'n, – and loves him as he ought to be loved. And I shouldn't wonder, my lad, that when you come home from this trip, Dan will say to you, 'Here is my wife, Jo, my own dear Minnie; and we're as happy as the day is long.' The consequence of all of which is, that every thing turns out as it ought to turn out, and as we all want it to turn out."
The Old Sailor drew a long breath after this peroration, and dabbed his face in a manner expressive of a high state of exultation and excitement. Joshua was no less moved. He toyed with the wedding-ring as gently and affectionately as if it were already on Ellen's finger. Truly, to him it was more than a piece of plain gold; it was a symbol of love. If it had been a precious life, he could not have handled it more tenderly. Tears came into his eyes as he looked at it, and his heart beat more strongly with love for Ellen as he pressed the ring to his lips. At which action the Old Sailor gave his knee a great slap; and falling back, in the excitement of his triumph, upon Mrs. Eliza's husband, nearly upset a boat for the first and only time in his life.
"And that is the reason, sir," said Joshua, "that you wished me to spend my last day at Gravesend with Ellen?"
"That is the reason, my lad, and no other."
"But how did you find all this out?"
"The fact of it is, my lad," replied the most unsuspicious and guileless old tar that ever crossed salt water, "I put this and that together. I put this and that together," he repeated with an air of amazing cunning. "It came first in a simple way. When you were ill, I went one day to see Minnie's father; and when I went into his room, I found that he was out. Minnie was there, though: but she didn't see me. She was sitting on the ground by her father's bed, with a shell at her ear, and was singing some words softly to herself; and I heard her repeat your name, Joshua, over and over again. It might have been a babe singing, her voice was so low and sweet. But I didn't like to hear it, for all that; and from that time, my lad, I began to watch, and to put this and that together. Lord love you if you hadn't been so wrapped up with Ellen, you would have found it out yourself soon enough. You see, if Minnie had been a little girl, that shell and her singing wouldn't have mattered; but being a woman, it did."
"And Ellen, sir. Have you told her what you have told me?"
"Just as much as wouldn't wound her sensitive heart, the dear lass. Not a word about Minnie. I've put it more as if it was your doing and my wish, being an unreasonable old shark, you know, and because I had a right to have my own unreasonable way. I told her I'd set my heart on it, and so had you."
"And her answer?"
"That pretty little lass says, 'If Joshua, that I love dearer than all the world'-them's her very words, 'dearer than all the world'-'wishes me to marry him down here at Gravesend, it will be my pride and my joy to do as he wishes, now and always.' Something else she says too. But before I tell you what that something else was, let me know what you think about it, Josh."
"What can I think, sir, after what you have told me, but that I believe it is the best and only way to set all matters straight? It is a task both of love and duty-love to Ellen, duty to Dan and Minnie. Yet I have one regret. I have often pictured in my mind what a proud day our wedding-day would be to mother," – his voice faltered here, – "and how her dear face would have brightened when our hands were joined!"
"That's the very something else that Ellen says to me, Josh," said the Old Sailor, beaming with satisfaction. "Says she, 'I should like to have Josh's mother at the wedding.' Says I, 'My dear, Josh's mother will be at the wedding.'"
"No!" exclaimed Joshua with a sudden start of surprise.
"Yes," cried the Old Sailor dabbing his face gleefully. "Says I, 'My dear Josh's mother will be at the wedding. She will come down to Gravesend to-morrow morning early, and will go back quietly in the afternoon.' And when Ellen tells 'em at home all about it, mother will be the only one among 'em who won't be surprised."
"Enough said, sir," said Joshua, his heart filled with wondering happiness. "I don't know what I have done to deserve such friends as I've got. Let us get back to Ellen."
With that, Mrs. Eliza's husband, who had behaved more like a machine than a man during the long interview, pulled briskly to shore.
It was dusk when they walked along the street where Mrs. Eliza lived; but Joshua saw Ellen standing at the door waiting for them. He hastened to her eagerly, and with his arm around her waist, drew her away from the little light that was left. She was trembling; but his strong arm supported her.
"So you are to be my little wife to-morrow?" he said in a voice of exceeding tenderness.
She clung closer to him, and hiding her face, although it was dark, answered him in the softest of soft whispers, "Yes, if you are satisfied that it shall be so."
"It will be for the best, darling," he whispered, embracing her.
How proud he was of her! and what a memorable night they passed with the Old Sailor! The best room in the house had been brightened up for them to have tea in; and after tea, Joshua and Ellen strolled by the waterside for an hour, which seemed about five minutes long, talking as lovers have talked since the Creation. Meanwhile, the Old Sailor stood at the door, smoking his pipe with infinite satisfaction at the thought of having set all matters straight. While he thus stood, a man approached with the evident intention of making an inquiry of him; but catching sight of the Old Sailor's face, the man uttered a hasty exclamation and abruptly crossed the road, making a pretence of being intoxicated. It was but a pretence, but it deceived the Old Sailor, who set it down in his mind that the man was a sailor on the spree. "Going to join the 'Merry Andrew' to-morrow, perhaps," he thought; "and fuddling himself, as most of 'em do the first and last nights ashore. A rare old swiller is Jack! Never knows when he has had enough. Must always take another drop."
The man's thoughts were of a different kind. When he had turned the corner of the street, he walked more leisurely, and drew such a breath as one draws when he has escaped a danger. His first muttered words were "He didn't see me;" his next, "What the devil brings him here?" That his mind was disturbed by the sight of the Old Sailor was evident from his manner; and it was evident also, by the wary looks he cast about him, that he was bent already on no idle mission and needed nothing fresh to occupy him. "A good job it was dark," he muttered, directing his steps to the waterside; "if he had seen me, he would have been sure to tell Marvel, and it might have given rise to suspicion. Where is that dog of a Lascar, and what the devil does he mean by keeping me waiting?" The words were scarcely uttered when his face grew deadly white, and an ugly twitching came about the corners of his lips at what he saw before him. It was merely a man and woman-evidently lovers-who were walking slowly along, in earnest conversation. He was about to follow them, when his arm was touched by a new-comer, in a sailor's dress.
"Here I am, master," said the new-comer.
"See there, you dog!" exclaimed Solomon Fewster, pointing to the lovers. "See there! What brings her here?"
The Lascar looked after them, shading his eyes with his hand, and shrugged his shoulders. "Joshua Marvel and Ellen Taylor!" he said, with a careless laugh. "Doing a little sweethearting on the sly. If you had the chance, you'd do the same yourself. See, they're turning back this way; let us get out of sight."
They stood aside, and as the lovers passed, heedful of nothing, conscious of nothing, but their own great happiness, their faces met, and a kiss passed between them. In his torment of jealousy, Solomon Fewster grasped the Lascar's shoulder so tightly as to make the man wince. The dog shook himself free from his master, and said, "Well, he'll be away soon, and you'll have the pretty Ellen all to yourself. Come, now; I don't want to stop here all night. Let us say what we've got to say, and be done with it."
Solomon Fewster walked away a few steps to recover his composure, and when he had mastered his agitation, returned to the Lascar.
"I shipped this morning, through an agent," said the Lascar; "here are my papers."
"It is too dark for me to see them; I must take your word that you have done what you say."
"You have taken my word before, master, and you have found me faithful. You keep your part of the bargain; I shall keep mine. It is my interest to do so."
"Yes, your interest," said Solomon Fewster, with somewhat of a bitter emphasis. "You have cost me enough, you dog."
Notwithstanding that their positions of master and dog might have been appropriately reversed, the old fiction was kept up between them, with insolent arrogance on one side, and with mock humility on the other. Neither of them deceived the other.
"I might have cost you more, master," replied the Lascar; "but go on."
"Let us see then, if we are agreed upon the position Of matters, and if we understand one another. When a certain thing happened last Christmas, which nearly cost a whelp his life, you thought it necessary for your safety" -
"We thought it necessary for our safety," corrected the Lascar.
"To take yourself off somewhere, so as not to be seen, and therefore not suspected. Out of sight out of mind. In accordance with that understanding you went to a certain watering-place, and lived at my expense until you got into a drunken quarrel with your drunken mates, in which one of them received a cut across the face. The same night-being within a week of the present time-you thought it advisable to leave that district, and you accordingly did so, coming down here to Gravesend, and apprising me that you were in danger of arrest and in want of money."
"You talk like a book," said the admiring Lascar, with a laugh.
"I came down to see you, and to advise you" -
"Taking such an interest in me, master!" interrupted the Lascar, with another and a louder laugh.
"And I told you that as in England a man who is too free with his knife is likely to be deprived of his liberty for a longer time than he would probably consider pleasant, the best thing you could do-the police being on the lookout for you-would be to join a ship bound for a distant port, and so get clear of danger. Is that fairly stated?"
"Pretty fairly for you, master. It is for me to say, that so long as I am out of danger your safety is secured. But that's a matter, of course, that you don't think much of."
"It happening, as it does not often happen with such dogs as you," continued Solomon Fewster, taking no other notice of the Lascar's taunt than was indicated by a contemptuous emphasis on the word "dogs," "that you were for once open to reason, you agreed with me that it would be best for you to get out of the country. As luck would have it, Joshua Marvel's ship, the 'Merry Andrew,' was shortly to start for New South Wales, and as part of the crew was to be engaged at Gravesend, where you were skulking about, you set your mind very strangely upon going in the same ship with the whelp, and according to your own statement, have accomplished your desire to-day."