At Sunwich Port, Complete. W. W. JacobsЧитать онлайн книгу.

      The captain's cup was filled to the brim by the promotion of his first officer to the command of the Conqueror. It was by far the largest craft which sailed from the port of Sunwich, and its master held a corresponding dignity amongst the captains of lesser vessels. Their allegiance was now transferred to Captain Hardy, and the master of a brig which was in the last stages of senile decay, meeting Nugent in The Goblets, actually showed him by means of two lucifer matches how the collision might have been avoided.

      A touching feature in the business, and a source of much gratification to Mr. Wilks by the sentimental applause evoked by it, was his renunciation of the post of steward on the ss. Conqueror. Sunwich buzzed with the tidings that after eighteen years' service with Captain Nugent he preferred starvation ashore to serving under another master. Although comfortable in pocket and known to be living with his mother, who kept a small general shop, he was regarded as a man on the brink of starvation. Pints were thrust upon him, and the tale of his nobility increased with much narration. It was considered that the whole race of stewards had acquired fresh lustre from his action.

      His only unfavourable critic was the erring captain himself. He sent a peremptory summons to Mr. Wilks to attend at Equator Lodge, and the moment he set eyes upon that piece of probity embarked upon such a vilification of his personal defects and character as Mr. Wilks had never even dreamt of. He wound up by ordering him to rejoin the ship forthwith.

      “Arsking your pardon, sir,” said Mr. Wilks, with tender reproach, “but I couldn't.”

      “Are you going to live on your mother, you hulking rascal?” quoth the incensed captain.

      “No, sir,” said Mr. Wilks. “I've got a little money, sir; enough for my few wants till we sail again.”

      “When I sail again you won't come with me,” said the captain, grimly. “I suppose you want an excuse for a soak ashore for six months!”

      Mr. Wilks twiddled his cap in his hands and smiled weakly.

      “I thought p'r'aps as you'd like me to come round and wait at table, and help with the knives and boots and such-like,” he said, softly. “Ann is agreeable.”

      “Get out of the house,” said the captain in quiet, measured tones.

      Mr. Wilks went, but on his way to the gate he picked up three pieces of paper which had blown into the garden, weeded two pieces of grass from the path, and carefully removed a dead branch from a laurel facing the window. He would have done more but for an imperative knocking on the glass, and he left the premises sadly, putting his collection of rubbish over the next garden fence as he passed it.

      But the next day the captain's boots bore such a polish that he was able to view his own startled face in them, and at dinner-time the brightness of the knives was so conspicuous that Mrs. Kingdom called Ann in for the purpose of asking her why she didn't always do them like that. Her brother ate his meal in silence, and going to his room afterwards discovered every pair of boots he possessed, headed by the tall sea-boots, standing in a nicely graduated line by the wall, and all shining their hardest.

      For two days did Mr. Wilks do good by stealth, leaving Ann to blush to find it fame; but on the third day at dinner, as the captain took up his knife and fork to carve, he became aware of a shadow standing behind his chair. A shadow in a blue coat with metal buttons, which, whipping up the first plate carved, carried it to Mrs. Kingdom, and then leaned against her with the vegetable dishes.

      The dishes clattered a little on his arm as he helped the captain, but the latter, after an impressive pause and a vain attempt to catch the eye of Mr. Wilks, which was intent upon things afar off, took up the spoon and helped himself. From the unwonted silence of Miss Nugent in the presence of anything unusual it was clear to him that the whole thing had been carefully arranged. He ate in silence, and a resolution to kick Mr. Wilks off the premises vanished before the comfort, to say nothing of the dignity, afforded by his presence. Mr. Wilks, somewhat reassured, favoured Miss Nugent with a wink to which, although she had devoted much time in trying to acquire the art, she endeavoured in vain to respond.

      It was on the day following this that Jack Nugent, at his sister's instigation, made an attempt to avenge the family honour. Miss Nugent, although she treated him with scant courtesy herself, had a touching faith in his prowess, a faith partly due to her brother occasionally showing her his bicep muscles in moments of exaltation.

      “There's that horrid Jem Hardy,” she said, suddenly, as they walked along the road.

      “So it is,” said Master Nugent, but without any display of enthusiasm.

      “Halloa, Jack,” shouted Master Hardy across the road.

      “The suspense became painful.”

      “Halloa,” responded the other.

      “He's going to fight you,” shrilled Miss Nugent, who thought these amenities ill-timed; “he said so.”

      Master Hardy crossed the road. “What for?” he demanded, with surprise.

      “Because you're a nasty, horrid boy,” replied Miss Nugent, drawing herself up.

      “Oh,” said Master Hardy, blankly.

      The two gentlemen stood regarding each other with uneasy grins; the lady stood by in breathless expectation. The suspense became painful.