Like the dealer in
my country, away West, who when he had let himself be outdone in a
bargain, said to himself, 'Now I tell you what! I'll never speak to you
again.' And he never did, but joined a settlement of oysters, and
translated the multiplication table into their language,--which is a fact
that can be proved. If you doubt it, mention it to any oyster you come
across, and see if he'll have the face to contradict it."
He took the child from her mother's lap and set it on his knee.
"Not a bit afraid of me now, you see. Knows I am fond of small people. I
have a child, and she's a girl, and I sing to her sometimes."
"What do you sing?" asked Margaret.
"Not a long song, my dear.
Silas Jorgan
Played the organ.
That's about all. And sometimes I tell her stories,--stories of sailors
supposed to be lost, and recovered after all hope was abandoned." Here
the captain musingly went back to his song,--
Silas Jorgan
Played the organ;
repeating it with his eyes on the fire, as he softly danced the child on
his knee. For he felt that Margaret had stopped working.
"Yes," said the captain, still looking at the fire, "I make up stories
and tell 'em to that child. Stories of shipwreck on desert islands, and
long delay in getting back to civilised lauds. It is to stories the like
of that, mostly, that
Silas Jorgan
Plays the organ."
There was no light in the room but the light of the fire; for the shades
of night were on the village, and the stars had begun to peep out of the
sky one by one, as the houses of the village peeped out from among the
foliage when the night departed. The captain felt that Margaret's eyes
were upon him, and thought it discreetest to keep his own eyes on the
fire.
"Yes; I make 'em up," said the captain. "I make up stories of brothers
brought together by the good providence of GOD,--of sons brought back to
mothers, husbands brought back to wives, fathers raised from the deep,
for little children like herself."
Margaret's touch was on his arm, and he could not choose but look round
now. Next moment her hand moved imploringly to his breast, and she was
on her knees before him,--supporting the mother, who was also kneeling.
"What's the matter?" said the captain. "What's the matter?
Silas Jorgan
Played the--
Their looks and tears were too much for him, and he could not finish the
song, short as it was.
"Mistress Margaret, you have borne ill fortune well. Could you bear good
fortune equally well, if it was to come?"
"I hope so. I thankfully and humbly and earnestly hope so!"
"Wa'al, my dear," said the captain, "p'rhaps it has come. He's--don't be
frightened--shall I say the word--"
"Alive?"
"Yes!"
The thanks they fervently addressed to Heaven were again too much for the
captain, who openly took out his handkerchief and dried his eyes.
"He's no further off," resumed the captain, "than my country. Indeed,
he's no further off than his own native country. To tell you the truth,
he's no further off than Falmouth. Indeed, I doubt if he's quite so fur.
Indeed, if you was sure you could bear it nicely, and I was to do no more
than whistle for him--"
The captain's trust was discharged. A rush came, and they were all
together again.
This was a fine opportunity for Tom Pettifer to appear with a tumbler of
cold water, and he presently appeared with it, and administered it to the
ladies; at the same time soothing them, and composing their dresses,
exactly as if they had been passengers crossing the Channel.
