A Message from the Sea

Published：2026-07-30 01:18:45 Source: gift indoor winter toys for 9 year olds Author: Character Plush

Transcribed from the 1894 Chapman and ocean toys for 4 year olds under 20 dollarsHall “Christmas Stories”edition by David Price, email [email protected]

A MESSAGE FROM THE SEA

CHAPTER I—THE VILLAGE

“And a mighty sing’lar and pretty place it is, as everI saw in all the days of my life!” said Captain Jorgan, lookingup at it.

Captain Jorgan had to look high to look at it, for the village wasbuilt sheer up the face of a steep and lofty cliff.  There wasno road in it, there was no wheeled vehicle in it, there was not a levelyard in it.  From the sea-beach to the cliff-top two irregularrows of white houses, placed opposite to one another, and twisting hereand there, and there and here, rose, like the sides of a long successionof stages of crooked ladders, and you climbed up the village or climbeddown the village by the staves between, some six feet wide or so, andmade of sharp irregular stones.  The old pack-saddle, long laidaside in most parts of England as one of the appendages of its infancy,flourished here intact.  Strings of pack-horses and pack-donkeystoiled slowly up the staves of the ladders, bearing fish, and coal,and such other cargo as was unshipping at the pier from the dancingfleet of village boats, and from two or three little coasting traders. As the beasts of burden ascended laden, or descended light, they gotso lost at intervals in the floating clouds of village smoke, that theyseemed to dive down some of the village chimneys, and come to the surfaceagain far off, high above others.  No two houses in the villagewere alike, in chimney, size, shape, door, window, gable, roof-tree,anything.  The sides of the ladders were musical with water, runningclear and bright.  The staves were musical with the clatteringfeet of the pack-horses and pack-donkeys, and the voices of the fishermenurging them up, mingled with the voices of the fishermen’s wivesand their many children.  The pier was musical with the wash ofthe sea, the creaking of capstans and windlasses, and the airy flutteringof little vanes and sails.  The rough, sea-bleached boulders ofwhich the pier was made, and the whiter boulders of the shore, werebrown with drying nets.  The red-brown cliffs, richly wooded totheir extremest verge, had their softened and beautiful forms reflectedin the bluest water, under the clear North Devonshire sky of a Novemberday without a cloud.  The village itself was so steeped in autumnalfoliage, from the houses lying on the pier to the topmost round of thetopmost ladder, that one might have fancied it was out a bird’s-nesting,and was (as indeed it was) a wonderful climber.  And mentioningbirds, the place was not without some music from them too; for the rookwas very busy on the higher levels, and the gull with his flapping wingswas fishing in the bay, and the lusty little robin was hopping amongthe great stone blocks and iron rings of the breakwater, fearless inthe faith of his ancestors, and the Children in the Wood.

Thus it came to pass that Captain Jorgan, sitting balancing himselfon the pier-wall, struck his leg with his open hand, as some men dowhen they are pleased—and as he always did when he was pleased—andsaid,—

“A mighty sing’lar and pretty place it is, as ever Isaw in all the days of my life!”

Captain Jorgan had not been through the village, but had come downto the pier by a winding side-road, to have a preliminary look at itfrom the level of his own natural element.  He had seen many thingsand places, and had stowed them all away in a shrewd intellect and avigorous memory.  He was an American born, was Captain Jorgan,—aNew-Englander,—but he was a citizen of the world, and a combinationof most of the best qualities of most of its best countries.

For Captain Jorgan to sit anywhere in his long-skirted blue coatand blue trousers, without holding converse with everybody within speakingdistance, was a sheer impossibility.  So the captain fell to talkingwith the fishermen, and to asking them knowing questions about the fishery,and the tides, and the currents, and the race of water off that pointyonder, and what you kept in your eye, and got into a line with whatelse when you ran into the little harbour; and other nautical profundities. Among the men who exchanged ideas with the captain was a young fellow,who exactly hit his fancy,—a young fisherman of two or three andtwenty, in the rough sea-dress of his craft, with a brown face, darkcurling hair, and bright, modest eyes under his Sou’wester hat,and with a frank, but simple and retiring manner, which the captainfound uncommonly taking.  “I’d bet a thousand dollars,”said the captain to himself, “that your father was an honest man!”

“Might you be married now?” asked the captain, when hehad had some talk with this new acquaintance.

“Not yet.”

“Going to be?” said the captain.

“I hope so.”

The captain’s keen glance followed the slightest possible turnof the dark eye, and the slightest possible tilt of the Sou’westerhat.  The captain then slapped both his legs, and said to himself,—

“Never knew such a good thing in all my life!  There’shis sweetheart looking over the wall!”

There was a very pretty girl looking over the wall, from a littleplatform of cottage, vine, and fuchsia; and she certainly dig not lookas if the presence of this young fisherman in the landscape made itany the less sunny and hopeful for her.

Captain Jorgan, having doubled himself up to laugh with that heartygood-nature which is quite exultant in the innocent happiness of otherpeople, had undoubted himself, and was going to start a new subject,when there appeared coming down the lower ladders of stones, a man whomhe hailed as “Tom Pettifer, Ho!”  Tom Pettifer, Ho,responded with alacrity, and in speedy course descended on the pier.

“Afraid of a sun-stroke in England in November, Tom, that youwear your tropical hat, strongly paid outside and paper-lined inside,here?” said the captain, eyeing it.

“It’s as well to be on the safe side, sir,” repliedTom.

“Safe side!” repeated the captain, laughing.  “You’dguard against a sun-stroke, with that old hat, in an Ice Pack. Wa’al!  What have you made out at the Post-office?”

“It isthe Post-office, sir.”

“What’s the Post-office?” said the captain.

“The name, sir.  The name keeps the Post-office.”

“A coincidence!” said the captain.  “A luckybit!  Show me where it is.  Good-bye, shipmates, for the present! I shall come and have another look at you, afore I leave, this afternoon.”

This was addressed to all there, but especially the young fisherman;so all there acknowledged it, but especially the young fisherman. “He’sa sailor!” said one to another, as theylooked after the captain moving away.  That he was; and so outspeakingwas the sailor in him, that although his dress had nothing nauticalabout it, with the single exception of its colour, but was a suit ofa shore-going shape and form, too long in the sleeves and too shortin the legs, and too unaccommodating everywhere, terminating earthwardin a pair of Wellington boots, and surmounted by a tall, stiff hat,which no mortal could have worn at sea in any wind under heaven; nevertheless,a glimpse of his sagacious, weather-beaten face, or his strong, brownhand, would have established the captain’s calling.  WhereasMr. Pettifer—a man of a certain plump neatness, with a curly whisker,and elaborately nautical in a jacket, and shoes, and all things correspondent—lookedno more like a seaman, beside Captain Jorgan, than he looked like asea-serpent.

The two climbed high up the village,—which had the most arbitraryturns and twists in it, so that the cobbler’s house came deadacross the ladder, and to have held a reasonable course, you must havegone through his house, and through him too, as he sat at his work betweentwo little windows,—with one eye microscopically on the geologicalformation of that part of Devonshire, and the other telescopically onthe open sea,—the two climbed high up the village, and stoppedbefore a quaint little house, on which was painted, “MRS. RAYBROCK,DRAPER;” and also “POST-OFFICE.”  Before it,ran a rill of murmuring water, and access to it was gained by a littleplank-bridge.

“Here’s the name,” said Captain Jorgan, “sureenough.  You can come in if you like, Tom.”

The captain opened the door, and passed into an odd little shop,about six feet high, with a great variety of beams and bumps in theceiling, and, besides the principal window giving on the ladder of stones,a purblind little window of a single pane of glass, peeping out of anabutting corner at the sun-lighted ocean, and winking at its brightness.

“How do you do, ma’am?” said the captain. “I am very glad to see you.  I have come a long way to seeyou.”

“Haveyou, sir?  Then I am sure I am very gladto see you, though I don’t know you from Adam.”

Thus a comely elderly woman, short of stature, plump of form, sparklingand dark of eye, who, perfectly clean and neat herself, stood in themidst of her perfectly clean and neat arrangements, and surveyed CaptainJorgan with smiling curiosity.  “Ah! but you are a sailor,sir,” she added, almost immediately, and with a slight movementof her hands, that was not very unlike wringing them; “then youare heartily welcome.”

“Thank’ee, ma’am,” said the captain, “Idon’t know what it is, I am sure; that brings out the salt inme, but everybody seems to see it on the crown of my hat and the collarof my coat.  Yes, ma’am, I am in that way of life.”

“And the other gentleman, too,” said Mrs. Raybrock.

“Well now, ma’am,” said the captain, glancing shrewdlyat the other gentleman, “you are that nigh right, that he goesto sea,—if that makes him a sailor.  This is my steward,ma’am, Tom Pettifer; he’s been a’most all trades youcould name, in the course of his life,—would have bought all yourchairs and tables once, if you had wished to sell ’em,—butnow he’s my steward.  My name’s Jorgan, and I’ma ship-owner, and I sail my own and my partners’ ships, and havedone so this five-and-twenty year.  According to custom I am calledCaptain Jorgan, but I am no more a captain, bless your heart, than youare.”

“Perhaps you’ll come into my parlour, sir, and take achair?” said Mrs. Raybrock.

“Ex-actly what I was going to propose myself, ma’am. After you.”

Thus replying, and enjoining Tom to give an eye to the shop, CaptainJorgan followed Mrs. Raybrock into the little, low back-room,—decoratedwith divers plants in pots, tea-trays, old china teapots, and punch-bowls,—whichwas at once the private sitting-room of the Raybrock family and theinner cabinet of the post-office of the village of Steepways.

“Now, ma’am,” said the captain, “it don’tsignify a cent to you where I was born, except—”  Buthere the shadow of some one entering fell upon the captain’s figure,and he broke off to double himself up, slap both his legs, and ejaculate,“Never knew such a thing in all my life!  Here he is again! How are you?”

These words referred to the young fellow who had so taken CaptainJorgan’s fancy down at the pier.  To make it all quite completehe came in accompanied by the sweetheart whom the captain had detectedlooking over the wall.  A prettier sweetheart the sun could nothave shone upon that shining day.  As she stood before the captain,with her rosy lips just parted in surprise, her brown eyes a littlewider open than was usual from the same cause, and her breathing a littlequickened by the ascent (and possibly by some mysterious hurry and flurryat the parlour door, in which the captain had observed her face to befor a moment totally eclipsed by the Sou’wester hat), she lookedso charming, that the captain felt himself under a moral obligationto slap both his legs again.  She was very simply dressed, withno other ornament than an autumnal flower in her bosom.  She woreneither hat nor bonnet, but merely a scarf or kerchief, folded squarelyback over the head, to keep the sun off,—according to a fashionthat may be sometimes seen in the more genial parts of England as wellas of Italy, and which is probably the first fashion of head-dress thatcame into the world when grasses and leaves went out.

“In my country,” said the captain, rising to give herhis chair, and dexterously sliding it close to another chair on whichthe young fisherman must necessarily establish himself,—“inmy country we should call Devonshire beauty first-rate!”

Whenever a frank manner is offensive, it is because it is strainedor feigned; for there may be quite as much intolerable affectation inplainness as in mincing nicety.  All that the captain said anddid was honestly according to his nature; and his nature was open natureand good nature; therefore, when he paid this little compliment, andexpressed with a sparkle or two of his knowing eye, “I see howit is, and nothing could be better,” he had established a delicateconfidence on that subject with the family.

“I was saying to your worthy mother,” said the captainto the young man, after again introducing himself by name and occupation,—“Iwas saying to your mother (and you’re very like her) that it didn’tsignify where I was born, except that I was raised on question-askingground, where the babies as soon as ever they come into the world, inquireof their mothers, ‘Neow, how old may yoube, and wa’atair you a goin’ to name me?’—which is a fact.” Here he slapped his leg.  “Such being the case, I may beexcused for asking you if your name’s Alfred?”

“Yes, sir, my name is Alfred,” returned the young man.

“I am not a conjurer,” pursued the captain, “anddon’t think me so, or I shall right soon undeceive you. Likewise don’t think, if you please, though I docome fromthat country of the babies, that I am asking questions for question-asking’ssake, for I am not.  Somebody belonging to you went to sea?”

“My elder brother, Hugh,” returned the young man. He said it in an altered and lower voice, and glanced at his mother,who raised her hands hurriedly, and put them together across her blackgown, and looked eagerly at the visitor.

“No!  For God’s sake, don’t think that!”said the captain, in a solemn way; “I bring no good tidings ofhim.”

There was a silence, and the mother turned her face to the fire andput her hand between it and her eyes.  The young fisherman slightlymotioned toward the window, and the captain, looking in that direction,saw a young widow, sitting at a neighbouring window across a littlegarden, engaged in needlework, with a young child sleeping on her bosom. The silence continued until the captain asked of Alfred,—

“How long is it since it happened?”

“He shipped for his last voyage better than three years ago.”

“Ship struck upon some reef or rock, as I take it,” saidthe captain, “and all hands lost?”

“Yes.”

“Wa’al!” said the captain, after a shorter silence,“Here I sit who may come to the same end, like enough.  Heholds the seas in the hollow of His hand.  We must all strike somewhereand go down.  Our comfort, then, for ourselves and one anotheris to have done our duty.  I’d wager your brother did his!”

“He did!” answered the young fisherman.  “Ifever man strove faithfully on all occasions to do his duty, my brotherdid.  My brother was not a quick man (anything but that), but hewas a faithful, true, and just man.  We were the sons of only asmall tradesman in this county, sir; yet our father was as watchfulof his good name as if he had been a king.”

“A precious sight more so, I hope—bearing in mind thegeneral run of that class of crittur,” said the captain. “But I interrupt.”

“My brother considered that our father left the good name tous, to keep clear and true.”

“Your brother considered right,” said the captain; “andyou couldn’t take care of a better legacy.  But again I interrupt.”

“No; for I have nothing more to say.  We know that Hughlived well for the good name, and we feel certain that he died wellfor the good name.  And now it has come into my keeping. And that’s all.”

“Well spoken!” cried the captain.  “Well spoken,young man!  Concerning the manner of your brother’s death,”—bythis time the captain had released the hand he had shaken, and sat withhis own broad, brown hands spread out on his knees, and spoke aside,—“concerningthe manner of your brother’s death, it may be that I have someinformation to give you; though it may not be, for I am far from sure. Can we have a little talk alone?”

The young man rose; but not before the captain’s quick eyehad noticed that, on the pretty sweetheart’s turning to the windowto greet the young widow with a nod and a wave of the hand, the youngwidow had held up to her the needlework on which she was engaged, witha patient and pleasant smile.  So the captain said, being on hislegs,—

“What might she be making now?”

“What is Margaret making, Kitty?” asked the young fisherman,—withone of his arms apparently mislaid somewhere.

As Kitty only blushed in reply, the captain doubled himself up asfar as he could, standing, and said, with a slap of his leg,—

“In my country we should call it wedding-clothes.  Fact! We should, I do assure you.”

But it seemed to strike the captain in another light too; for hislaugh was not a long one, and he added, in quite a gentle tone,—

“And it’s very pretty, my dear, to see her—pooryoung thing, with her fatherless child upon her bosom—giving upher thoughts to your home and your happiness.  It’s verypretty, my dear, and it’s very good.  May your marriage bemore prosperous than hers, and be a comfort to her too.  May theblessed sun see you all happy together, in possession of the good name,long after I have done ploughing the great salt field that is neversown!”

Kitty answered very earnestly, “O!  Thank you, sir, withall my heart!”  And, in her loving little way, kissed herhand to him, and possibly by implication to the young fisherman, too,as the latter held the parlour-door open for the captain to pass out.

CHAPTER II—THE MONEY

“The stairs are very narrow, sir,” said Alfred Raybrockto Captain Jorgan.

“Like my cabin-stairs,” returned the captain, “onmany a voyage.”

“And they are rather inconvenient for the head.”

“If my head can’t take care of itself by this time, afterall the knocking about the world it has had,” replied the captain,as unconcernedly as if he had no connection with it, “it’snot worth looking after.”

Thus they came into the young fisherman’s bedroom, which wasas perfectly neat and clean as the shop and parlour below; though itwas but a little place, with a sliding window, and a phrenological ceilingexpressive of all the peculiarities of the house-roof.  Here thecaptain sat down on the foot of the bed, and glancing at a dreadfullibel on Kitty which ornamented the wall,—the production of somewandering limner, whom the captain secretly admired as having studiedportraiture from the figure-heads of ships,—motioned to the youngman to take the rush-chair on the other side of the small round table. That done, the captain put his hand in the deep breast-pocket of hislong-skirted blue coat, and took out of it a strong square case-bottle,—nota large bottle, but such as may be seen in any ordinary ship’smedicine-chest.  Setting this bottle on the table without removinghis hand from it, Captain Jorgan then spake as follows:—

“In my last voyage homeward-bound,” said the captain,“and that’s the voyage off of which I now come straight,I encountered such weather off the Horn as is not very often met with,even there.  I have rounded that stormy Cape pretty often, andI believe I first beat about there in the identical storms that blewthe Devil’s horns and tail off, and led to the horns being workedup into tooth-picks for the plantation overseers in my country, whomay be seen (if you travel down South, or away West, fur enough) pickingtheir teeth with ’em, while the whips, made of the tail, floghard.  In this last voyage, homeward-bound for Liverpool from SouthAmerica, I say to you, my young friend, it blew.  Whole measures! No half measures, nor making believe to blow; it blew!  Now I warn’tblown clean out of the water into the sky,—though I expected tobe even that,—but I was blown clean out of my course; and whenat last it fell calm, it fell dead calm, and a strong current set oneway, day and night, night and day, and I drifted—drifted—drifted—outof all the ordinary tracks and courses of ships, and drifted yet, andyet drifted.  It behooves a man who takes charge of fellow-critturs’lives, never to rest from making himself master of his calling. I never did rest, and consequently I knew pretty well (’speciallylooking over the side in the dead calm of that strong current) whatdangers to expect, and what precautions to take against ’em. In short, we were driving head on to an island.  There was no islandin the chart, and, therefore, you may say it was ill-manners in theisland to be there; I don’t dispute its bad breeding, but thereit was.  Thanks be to Heaven, I was as ready for the island asthe island was ready for me.  I made it out myself from the masthead,and I got enough way upon her in good time to keep her off.  Iordered a boat to be lowered and manned, and went in that boat myselfto explore the island.  There was a reef outside it, and, floatingin a corner of the smooth water within the reef, was a heap of sea-weed,and entangled in that sea-weed was this bottle.”

Here the captain took his hand from the bottle for a moment, thatthe young fisherman might direct a wondering glance at it; and thenreplaced his band and went on:—

“If ever you come—or even if ever you don’t come—toa desert place, use you your eyes and your spy-glass well; for the smallestthing you see may prove of use to you; and may have some informationor some warning in it.  That’s the principle on which I cameto see this bottle.  I picked up the bottle and ran the boat alongsidethe island, and made fast and went ashore armed, with a part of my boat’screw.  We found that every scrap of vegetation on the island (Igive it you as my opinion, but scant and scrubby at the best of times)had been consumed by fire.  As we were making our way, cautiouslyand toilsomely, over the pulverised embers, one of my people sank intothe earth breast-high.  He turned pale, and ‘Haul me outsmart, shipmates,’ says he, ‘for my feet are among bones.’ We soon got him on his legs again, and then we dug up the spot, andwe found that the man was right, and that his feet had been among bones. More than that, they were human bones; though whether the remains ofone man, or of two or three men, what with calcination and ashes, andwhat with a poor practical knowledge of anatomy, I can’t undertaketo say.  We examined the whole island and made out nothing else,save and except that, from its opposite side, I sighted a considerabletract of land, which land I was able to identify, and according to thebearings of which (not to trouble you with my log) I took a fresh departure. When I got aboard again I opened the bottle, which was oilskin-coveredas you see, and glass-stoppered as you see.  Inside of it,”pursued the captain, suiting his action to his words, “I foundthis little crumpled, folded paper, just as you see.  Outside ofit was written, as you see, these words: ‘Whoever finds this,is solemnly entreated by the dead to convey it unread to Alfred Raybrock,Steepways, North Devon, England.’  A sacred charge,”said the captain, concluding his narrative, “and, Alfred Raybrock,there it is!”

“This is my poor brother’s writing!”

“I suppose so,” said Captain Jorgan.  “I’lltake a look out of this little window while you read it.”

“Pray no, sir!  I should be hurt.  My brother couldn’tknow it would fall into such hands as yours.”

The captain sat down again on the foot of the bed, and the youngman opened the folded paper with a trembling hand, and spread it onthe table.  The ragged paper, evidently creased and torn both beforeand after being written on, was much blotted and stained, and the inkhad faded and run, and many words were wanting.  What the captainand the young fisherman made out together, after much re-reading andmuch humouring of the folds of the paper, is given on the next page.

The young fisherman had become more and more agitated, as the writinghad become clearer to him.  He now left it lying before the captain,over whose shoulder he had been reading it, and dropping into his formerseat, leaned forward on the table and laid his face in his hands.

“What, man,” urged the captain, “don’t givein!  Be up and doing likea man!”

“It is selfish, I know,—but doing what, doing what?”cried the young fisherman, in complete despair, and stamping his sea-booton the ground.

“Doing what?” returned the captain.  “Something! I’d go down to the little breakwater below yonder, and take awrench at one of the salt-rusted iron rings there, and either wrenchit up by the roots or wrench my teeth out of my head, sooner than I’ddo nothing.  Nothing!” ejaculated the captain.  “Anyfool or fainting heart can do that, and nothing can come of nothing,—whichwas pretended to be found out, I believe, by one of them Latin critters,”said the captain with the deepest disdain; “as if Adam hadn’tfound it out, afore ever he so much as named the beasts!”

Yet the captain saw, in spite of his bold words, that there was somegreater reason than he yet understood for the young man’s distress. And he eyed him with a sympathising curiosity.

“Come, come!” continued the captain, “Speak out. What is it, boy!”

“You have seen how beautiful she is, sir,” said the youngman, looking up for the moment, with a flushed face and rumpled hair.

“Did any man ever say she warn’t beautiful?” retortedthe captain.  “If so, go and lick him.”

The young man laughed fretfully in spite of himself, and said—

“It’s not that, it’s not that.”

“Wa’al, then, what is it?” said the captain ina more soothing tone.

The young fisherman mournfully composed himself to tell the captainwhat it was, and began: “We were to have been married next Mondayweek—”

“Were to have been!” interrupted Captain Jorgan. “And are to be?  Hey?”

Young Raybrock shook his head, and traced out with his fore-fingerthe words, “poor father’s five hundred pounds,”in the written paper.

“Go along,” said the captain.  “Five hundredpounds?  Yes?”

“That sum of money,” pursued the young fisherman, enteringwith the greatest earnestness on his demonstration, while the captaineyed him with equal earnestness, “was all my late father possessed. When he died, he owed no man more than he left means to pay, but hehad been able to lay by only five hundred pounds.”

“Five hundred pounds,” repeated the captain.  “Yes?”

“In his lifetime, years before, he had expressly laid the moneyaside to leave to my mother,—like to settle upon her, if I makemyself understood.”

“Yes?”

“He had risked it once—my father put down in writingat that time, respecting the money—and was resolved never to riskit again.”

“Not a spectator,” said the captain.  “Mycountry wouldn’t have suited him.  Yes?”

“My mother has never touched the money till now.  Andnow it was to have been laid out, this very next week, in buying mea handsome share in our neighbouring fishery here, to settle me in lifewith Kitty.”

The captain’s face fell, and he passed and repassed his sun-brownedright hand over his thin hair, in a discomfited manner.

“Kitty’s father has no more than enough to live on, evenin the sparing way in which we live about here.  He is a kind ofbailiff or steward of manor rights here, and they are not much, andit is but a poor little office.  He was better off once, and Kittymust never marry to mere drudgery and hard living.”

The captain still sat stroking his thin hair, and looking at theyoung fisherman.

“I am as certain that my father had no knowledge that any onewas wronged as to this money, or that any restitution ought to be made,as I am certain that the sun now shines.  But, after this solemnwarning from my brother’s grave in the sea, that the money isStolen Money,” said Young Raybrock, forcing himself to the utteranceof the words, “can I doubt it?  Can I touch it?”

“About not doubting, I ain’t so sure,” observedthe captain; “but about not touching—no—I don’tthink you can.”

“See then,” said Young Raybrock, “why I am so grieved. Think of Kitty.  Think what I have got to tell her!”

His heart quite failed him again when he had come round to that,and he once more beat his sea-boot softly on the floor.  But notfor long; he soon began again, in a quietly resolute tone.

“However!  Enough of that!  You spoke some bravewords to me just now, Captain Jorgan, and they shall not be spoken invain.  I have got to do something.  What I have got to do,before all other things, is to trace out the meaning of this paper,for the sake of the Good Name that has no one else to put it right. And still for the sake of the Good Name, and my father’s memory,not a word of this writing must be breathed to my mother, or to Kitty,or to any human creature.  You agree in this?”

“I don’t know what they’ll think of us below,”said the captain, “but for certain I can’t oppose it. Now, as to tracing.  How will you do?”

They both, as by consent, bent over the paper again, and again carefullypuzzled out the whole of the writing.

“I make out that this would stand, if all the writing was here,‘Inquire among the old men living there, for’—someone.  Most like, you’ll go to this village named here?”said the captain, musing, with his finger on the name.

“Yes!  And Mr. Tregarthen is a Cornishman, and—tobe sure!—comes from Lanrean.”

“Does he?” said the captain quietly.  “AsI ain’t acquainted with him, who may hebe?”

“Mr. Tregarthen is Kitty’s father.”

“Ay, ay!” cried the captain.  “Now you speak! Tregarthen knows this village of Lanrean, then?”

“Beyond all doubt he does.  I have often heard him mentionit, as being his native place.  He knows it well.”

“Stop half a moment,” said the captain.  “Wewant a name here.  You could ask Tregarthen (or if you couldn’tI could) what names of old men he remembers in his time in those diggings? Hey?”

“I can go straight to his cottage, and ask him now.”

“Take me with you,” said the captain, rising in a solidway that had a most comfortable reliability in it, “and just aword more first.  I have knocked about harder than you, and havegot along further than you.  I have had, all my sea-going lifelong, to keep my wits polished bright with acid and friction, like thebrass cases of the ship’s instruments.  I’ll keep youcompany on this expedition.  Now you don’t live by talkingany more than I do.  Clench that hand of yours in this hand ofmine, and that’s a speech on both sides.”

Captain Jorgan took command of the expedition with that hearty shake. He at once refolded the paper exactly as before, replaced it in thebottle, put the stopper in, put the oilskin over the stopper, confidedthe whole to Young Raybrock’s keeping, and led the way down-stairs.

But it was harder navigation below-stairs than above.  The instantthey set foot in the parlour the quick, womanly eye detected that therewas something wrong.  Kitty exclaimed, frightened, as she ran toher lover’s side, “Alfred!  What’s the matter?” Mrs. Raybrock cried out to the captain, “Gracious! what have youdone to my son to change him like this all in a minute?” And the young widow—who was there with her work upon her arm—wasat first so agitated that she frightened the little girl she held inher hand, who hid her face in her mother’s skirts and screamed. The captain, conscious of being held responsible for this domestic change,contemplated it with quite a guilty expression of countenance, and lookedto the young fisherman to come to his rescue.

“Kitty, darling,” said Young Raybrock, “Kitty,dearest love, I must go away to Lanrean, and I don’t know whereelse or how much further, this very day.  Worse than that—ourmarriage, Kitty, must be put off, and I don’t know for how long.”

Kitty stared at him, in doubt and wonder and in anger, and pushedhim from her with her hand.

“Put off?” cried Mrs. Raybrock.  “The marriageput off?  And you going to Lanrean!  Why, in the name of thedear Lord?”

“Mother dear, I can’t say why; I must not say why. It would be dishonourable and undutiful to say why.”

“Dishonourable and undutiful?” returned the dame. “And is there nothing dishonourable or undutiful in the boy’sbreaking the heart of his own plighted love, and his mother’sheart too, for the sake of the dark secrets and counsels of a wickedstranger?  Why did you ever come here?” she apostrophisedthe innocent captain.  “Who wanted you?  Where did youcome from?  Why couldn’t you rest in your own bad place,wherever it is, instead of disturbing the peace of quiet unoffendingfolk like us?”

“And what,” sobbed the poor little Kitty, “haveI ever done to you, you hard and cruel captain, that you should comeand serve me so?”

And then they both began to weep most pitifully, while the captaincould only look from the one to the other, and lay hold of himself bythe coat collar.

“Margaret,” said the poor young fisherman, on his kneesat Kitty’s feet, while Kitty kept both her hands before her tearfulface, to shut out the traitor from her view,—but kept her fingerswide asunder and looked at him all the time,—“Margaret,you have suffered so much, so uncomplainingly, and are always so carefuland considerate!  Do take my part, for poor Hugh’s sake!”

The quiet Margaret was not appealed to in vain.  “I will,Alfred,” she returned, “and I do.  I wish this gentlemanhad never come near us;” whereupon the captain laid hold of himselfthe tighter; “but I take your part for all that.  I am sureyou have some strong reason and some sufficient reason for what youdo, strange as it is, and even for not saying why you do it, strangeas that is.  And, Kitty darling, you are bound to think so morethan any one, for true love believes everything, and bears everything,and trusts everything.  And, mother dear, you are bound to thinkso too, for you know you have been blest with good sons, whose wordwas always as good as their oath, and who were brought up in as truea sense of honour as any gentleman in this land.  And I am sureyou have no more call, mother, to doubt your living son than to doubtyour dead son; and for the sake of the dear dead, I stand up for thedear living.”

“Wa’al now,” the captain struck in, with enthusiasm,“this I say, That whether your opinions flatter me or not, youare a young woman of sense, and spirit, and feeling; and I’d soonerhave you by my side in the hour of danger, than a good half of the menI’ve ever fallen in with—or fallen out with, ayther.”

Margaret did not return the captain’s compliment, or appearfully to reciprocate his good opinion, but she applied herself to theconsolation of Kitty, and of Kitty’s mother-in-law that was tohave been next Monday week, and soon restored the parlour to a quietcondition.

“Kitty, my darling,” said the young fisherman, “Imust go to your father to entreat him still to trust me in spite ofthis wretched change and mystery, and to ask him for some directionsconcerning Lanrean.  Will you come home?  Will you come withme, Kitty?”

Kitty answered not a word, but rose sobbing, with the end of hersimple head-dress at her eyes.  Captain Jorgan followed the loversout, quite sheepishly, pausing in the shop to give an instruction toMr. Pettifer.

“Here, Tom!” said the captain, in a low voice. “Here’s something in your line.  Here’s an oldlady poorly and low in her spirits.  Cheer her up a bit, Tom. Cheer ’em all up.”

Mr. Pettifer, with a brisk nod of intelligence, immediately assumedhis steward face, and went with his quiet, helpful, steward step intothe parlour, where the captain had the great satisfaction of seeinghim, through the glass door, take the child in his arms (who offeredno objection), and bend over Mrs. Raybrock, administering soft wordsof consolation.

“Though what he finds to say, unless he’s telling herthat ’t’ll soon be over, or that most people is so at first,or that it’ll do her good afterward, I cannot imaginate!”was the captain’s reflection as he followed the lovers.

He had not far to follow them, since it was but a short descent downthe stony ways to the cottage of Kitty’s father.  But shortas the distance was, it was long enough to enable the captain to observethat he was fast becoming the village Ogre; for there was not a womanstanding working at her door, or a fisherman coming up or going down,who saw Young Raybrock unhappy and little Kitty in tears, but he orshe instantly darted a suspicious and indignant glance at the captain,as the foreigner who must somehow be responsible for this unusual spectacle. Consequently, when they came into Tregarthen’s little garden,—whichformed the platform from which the captain had seen Kitty peeping overthe wall,—the captain brought to, and stood off and on at thegate, while Kitty hurried to hide her tears in her own room, and Alfredspoke with her father, who was working in the garden.  He was arather infirm man, but could scarcely be called old yet, with an agreeableface and a promising air of making the best of things.  The conversationbegan on his side with great cheerfulness and good humour, but soonbecame distrustful, and soon angry.  That was the captain’scue for striking both into the conversation and the garden.

“Morning, sir!” said Captain Jorgan.  “Howdo you do?”

“The gentleman I am going away with,” said the youngfisherman to Tregarthen.

“O!” returned Kitty’s father, surveying the unfortunatecaptain with a look of extreme disfavour.  “I confess thatI can’t say I am glad to see you.”

“No,” said the captain, “and, to admit the truth,that seems to be the general opinion in these parts.  But don’tbe hasty; you may think better of me by-and-by.”

“I hope so,” observed Tregarthen.

“Wa’al, Ihope so,” observed the captain,quite at his ease; “more than that, I believe so,—thoughyou don’t.  Now, Mr. Tregarthen, you don’t want toexchange words of mistrust with me; and if you did, you couldn’t,because I wouldn’t.  You and I are old enough to know betterthan to judge against experience from surfaces and appearances; andif you haven’t lived to find out the evil and injustice of suchjudgments, you are a lucky man.”

The other seemed to shrink under this remark, and replied, “Sir,I havelived to feel it deeply.”

“Wa’al,” said the captain, mollified, “thenI’ve made a good cast without knowing it.  Now, Tregarthen,there stands the lover of your only child, and here stand I who knowhis secret.  I warrant it a righteous secret, and none of his making,though bound to be of his keeping.  I want to help him out withit, and tewwards that end we ask you to favour us with the names oftwo or three old residents in the village of Lanrean.  As I amtaking out my pocket-book and pencil to put the names down, I may aswell observe to you that this, wrote atop of the first page here, ismy name and address: ‘Silas Jonas Jorgan, Salem, Massachusetts,United States.’  If ever you take it in your head to runover any morning, I shall be glad to welcome you.  Now, what maybe the spelling of these said names?”

“There was an elderly man,” said Tregarthen, “namedDavid Polreath.  He may be dead.”

“Wa’al,” said the captain, cheerfully, “ifPolreath’s dead and buried, and can be made of any service tous, Polreath won’t object to our digging of him up.  Polreath’sdown, anyhow.”

“There was another named Penrewen.  I don’t knowhis Christian name.”

“Never mind his Chris’en name,” said the captain;“Penrewen, for short.”

“There was another named John Tredgear.”

“And a pleasant-sounding name, too,” said the captain;“John Tredgear’s booked.”

“I can recall no other except old Parvis.”

“One of old Parvis’s fam’ly I reckon,” saidthe captain, “kept a dry-goods store in New York city, and realiseda handsome competency by burning his house to ashes.  Same name,anyhow.  David Polreath, Unchris’en Penrewen, John Tredgear,and old Arson Parvis.”

“I cannot recall any others at the moment.”

“Thank’ee,” said the captain.  “Andso, Tregarthen, hoping for your good opinion yet, and likewise for thefair Devonshire Flower’s, your daughter’s, I give you myhand, sir, and wish you good day.”

Young Raybrock accompanied him disconsolately; for there was no Kittyat the window when he looked up, no Kitty in the garden when he shutthe gate, no Kitty gazing after them along the stony ways when theybegin to climb back.

“Now I tell you what,” said the captain.  “Notbeing at present calculated to promote harmony in your family, I won’tcome in.  You go and get your dinner at home, and I’ll getmine at the little hotel.  Let our hour of meeting be two o’clock,and you’ll find me smoking a cigar in the sun afore the hoteldoor.  Tell Tom Pettifer, my steward, to consider himself on duty,and to look after your people till we come back; you’ll find he’llhave made himself useful to ’em already, and will be quite acceptable.”

All was done as Captain Jorgan directed.  Punctually at twoo’clock the young fisherman appeared with his knapsack at hisback; and punctually at two o’clock the captain jerked away thelast feather-end of his cigar.

“Let me carry your baggage, Captain Jorgan; I can easily takeit with mine.”

“Thank’ee,” said the captain.  “I’llcarry it myself.  It’s only a comb.”

They climbed out of the village, and paused among the trees and fernon the summit of the hill above, to take breath, and to look down atthe beautiful sea.  Suddenly the captain gave his leg a resoundingslap, and cried, “Never knew such a right thing in all my life!”—andran away.

The cause of this abrupt retirement on the part of the captain waslittle Kitty among the trees.  The captain went out of sight andwaited, and kept out of sight and waited, until it occurred to him tobeguile the time with another cigar.  He lighted it, and smokedit out, and still he was out of sight and waiting.  He stole withinsight at last, and saw the lovers, with their arms entwined and theirbent heads touching, moving slowly among the trees.  It was thegolden time of the afternoon then, and the captain said to himself,“Golden sun, golden sea, golden sails, golden leaves, golden love,golden youth,—a golden state of things altogether!”

Nevertheless the captain found it necessary to hail his young companionbefore going out of sight again.  In a few moments more he cameup and they began their journey.

“That still young woman with the fatherless child,” saidCaptain Jorgan, as they fell into step, “didn’t throw herwords away; but good honest words are never thrown away.  And nowthat I am conveying you off from that tender little thing that loves,and relies, and hopes, I feel just as if I was the snarling critturin the picters, with the tight legs, the long nose, and the featherin his cap, the tips of whose moustaches get up nearer to his eyes thewickeder he gets.”

The young fisherman knew nothing of Mephistopheles; but he smiledwhen the captain stopped to double himself up and slap his leg, andthey went along in right goodfellowship.

CHAPTER V { 1}—THERESTITUTION

Captain Jorgan, up and out betimes, had put the whole village ofLanrean under an amicable cross-examination, and was returning to theKing Arthur’s Arms to breakfast, none the wiser for his trouble,when he beheld the young fisherman advancing to meet him, accompaniedby a stranger.  A glance at this stranger assured the captain thathe could be no other than the Seafaring Man; and the captain was aboutto hail him as a fellow-craftsman, when the two stood still and silentbefore the captain, and the captain stood still, silent, and wonderingbefore them.

“Why, what’s this?” cried the captain, when atlast he broke the silence.  “You two are alike.  Youtwo are much alike.  What’s this?”

Not a word was answered on the other side, until after the seafaringbrother had got hold of the captain’s right hand, and the fishermanbrother had got hold of the captain’s left hand; and if ever thecaptain had had his fill of hand-shaking, from his birth to that hour,he had it then.  And presently up and spoke the two brothers, oneat a time, two at a time, two dozen at a time for the bewilderment intowhich they plunged the captain, until he gradually had Hugh Raybrock’sdeliverance made clear to him, and also unravelled the fact that theperson referred to in the half-obliterated paper was Tregarthen himself.

“Formerly, dear Captain Jorgan,” said Alfred, “ofLanrean, you recollect?  Kitty and her father came to live at Steepwaysafter Hugh shipped on his last voyage.”

“Ay, ay!” cried the captain, fetching a breath. “Nowyou have me in tow.  Then your brother here don’tknow his sister-in-law that is to be so much as by name?”

“Never saw her; never heard of her!”

“Ay, ay, ay!” cried the captain.  “Why thenwe every one go back together—paper, writer, and all—andtake Tregarthen into the secret we kept from him?”

“Surely,” said Alfred, “we can’t help itnow.  We must go through with our duty.”

“Not a doubt,” returned the captain.  “Giveme an arm apiece, and let us set this ship-shape.”

So walking up and down in the shrill wind on the wild moor, whilethe neglected breakfast cooled within, the captain and the brotherssettled their course of action.

It was that they should all proceed by the quickest means they couldsecure to Barnstaple, and there look over the father’s books andpapers in the lawyer’s keeping; as Hugh had proposed to himselfto do if ever he reached home.  That, enlightened or unenlightened,they should then return to Steepways and go straight to Mr. Tregarthen,and tell him all they knew, and see what came of it, and act accordingly. Lastly, that when they got there they should enter the village withall precautions against Hugh’s being recognised by any chance;and that to the captain should be consigned the task of preparing hiswife and mother for his restoration to this life.

“For you see,” quoth Captain Jorgan, touching the lasthead, “it requires caution any way, great joys being as dangerousas great griefs, if not more dangerous, as being more uncommon (andtherefore less provided against) in this round world of ours. And besides, I should like to free my name with the ladies, and takeyou home again at your brightest and luckiest; so don’t let’sthrow away a chance of success.”

The captain was highly lauded by the brothers for his kind interestand foresight.

“And now stop!” said the captain, coming to a standstill,and looking from one brother to the other, with quite a new riggingof wrinkles about each eye; “you are of opinion,” to theelder, “that you are ra’ather slow?”

“I assure you I am very slow,” said the honest Hugh.

“Wa’al,” replied the captain, “I assure youthat to the best of my belief I am ra’ather smart.  Now aslow man ain’t good at quick business, is he?”

That was clear to both.

“You,” said the captain, turning to the younger brother,“are a little in love; ain’t you?”

“Not a little, Captain Jorgan.”

“Much or little, you’re sort preoccupied; ain’tyou?”

It was impossible to be denied.

“And a sort preoccupied man ain’t good at quick business,is he?” said the captain.

Equally clear on all sides.

“Now,” said the captain, “I ain’t in lovemyself, and I’ve made many a smart run across the ocean, and Ishould like to carry on and go ahead with this affair of yours, andmake a run slick through it.  Shall I try?  Will you handit over to me?”

They were both delighted to do so, and thanked him heartily.

“Good,” said the captain, taking out his watch. “This is half-past eight a.m., Friday morning.  I’lljot that down, and we’ll compute how many hours we’ve beenout when we run into your mother’s post-office.  There! The entry’s made, and now we go ahead.”

They went ahead so well that before the Barnstaple lawyer’soffice was open next morning, the captain was sitting whistling on thestep of the door, waiting for the clerk to come down the street withhis key and open it.  But instead of the clerk there came the master,with whom the captain fraternised on the spot to an extent that utterlyconfounded him.

As he personally knew both Hugh and Alfred, there was no difficultyin obtaining immediate access to such of the father’s papers aswere in his keeping.  These were chiefly old letters and cash accounts;from which the captain, with a shrewdness and despatch that left thelawyer far behind, established with perfect clearness, by noon, thefollowing particulars:—

That one Lawrence Clissold had borrowed of the deceased, at a timewhen he was a thriving young tradesman in the town of Barnstaple, thesum of five hundred pounds.  That he had borrowed it on the writtenstatement that it was to be laid out in furtherance of a speculationwhich he expected would raise him to independence; he being, at thetime of writing that letter, no more than a clerk in the house of DringworthBrothers, America Square, London.  That the money was borrowedfor a stipulated period; but that, when the term was out, the aforesaidspeculation failed, and Clissold was without means of repayment. That, hereupon, he had written to his creditor, in no very persuasiveterms, vaguely requesting further time.  That the creditor hadrefused this concession, declaring that he could not afford delay. That Clissold then paid the debt, accompanying the remittance of themoney with an angry letter describing it as having been advanced bya relative to save him from ruin.  That, in acknowlodging the receipt,Raybrock had cautioned Clissold to seek to borrow money of him no more,as he would never so risk money again.

Before the lawyer the captain said never a word in reference to thesediscoveries.  But when the papers had been put back in their box,and he and his two companions were well out of the office, his rightleg suffered for it, and he said,—

“So far this run’s begun with a fair wind and a prosperous;for don’t you see that all this agrees with that dutiful trustin his father maintained by the slow member of the Raybrock family?”

Whether the brothers had seen it before or no, they saw it now. Not that the captain gave them much time to contemplate the state ofthings at their ease, for he instantly whipped them into a chaise again,and bore them off to Steepways.  Although the afternoon was butjust beginning to decline when they reached it, and it was broad day-light,still they had no difficulty, by dint of muffing the returned sailorup, and ascending the village rather than descending it, in reachingTregarthen’s cottage unobserved.  Kitty was not visible,and they surprised Tregarthen sitting writing in the small bay-windowof his little room.

“Sir,” said the captain, instantly shaking hands withhim, pen and all, “I’m glad to see you, sir.  How doyou do, sir?  I told you you’d think better of me by-and-by,and I congratulate you on going to do it.”

Here the captain’s eye fell on Tom Pettifer Ho, engaged inpreparing some cookery at the fire.

“That critter,” said the captain, smiting his leg, “isa born steward, and never ought to have been in any other way of life. Stop where you are, Tom, and make yourself useful.  Now, Tregarthen,I’m going to try a chair.”

Accordingly the captain drew one close to him, and went on:—

“This loving member of the Raybrock family you know, sir. This slow member of the same family you don’t know, sir. Wa’al, these two are brothers,—fact!  Hugh’scome to life again, and here he stands.  Now see here, my friend! You don’t want to be told that he was cast away, but you do wantto be told (for there’s a purpose in it) that he was cast awaywith another man.  That man by name was Lawrence Clissold.”

At the mention of this name Tregarthen started and changed colour. “What’s the matter?” said the captain.

“He was a fellow-clerk of mine thirty—five-and-thirty—yearsago.”

“True,” said the captain, immediately catching at theclew: “Dringworth Brothers, America Square, London City.”

The other started again, nodded, and said, “That was the house.”

“Now,” pursued the captain, “between those twomen cast away there arose a mystery concerning the round sum of fivehundred pound.”

Again Tregarthen started, changing colour.  Again the captainsaid, “What’s the matter?”

As Tregarthen only answered, “Please to go on,” the captainrecounted, very tersely and plainly, the nature of Clissold’swanderings on the barren island, as he had condensed them in his mindfrom the seafaring man.  Tregarthen became greatly agitated duringthis recital, and at length exclaimed,—

“Clissold was the man who ruined me!  I have suspectedit for many a long year, and now I know it.”

“And how,” said the captain, drawing his chair stillcloser to Tregarthen, and clapping his hand upon his shoulder,—“howmay you know it?”

“When we were fellow-clerks,” replied Tregarthen, “inthat London house, it was one of my duties to enter daily in a certainbook an account of the sums received that day by the firm, and afterwardpaid into the bankers’.  One memorable day,—a Wednesday,the black day of my life,—among the sums I so entered was oneof five hundred pounds.”

“I begin to make it out,” said the captain.  “Yes?”

“It was one of Clissold’s duties to copy from this entrya memorandum of the sums which the clerk employed to go to the bankers’paid in there.  It was my duty to hand the money to Clissold; itwas Clissold’s to hand it to the clerk, with that memorandum ofhis writing.  On that Wednesday I entered a sum of five hundredpounds received.  I handed that sum, as I handed the other sumsin the day’s entry, to Clissold.  I was absolutely certainof it at the time; I have been absolutely certain of it ever since. A sum of five hundred pounds was afterward found by the house to havebeen that day wanting from the bag, from Clissold’s memorandum,and from the entries in my book.  Clissold, being questioned, stoodupon his perfect clearness in the matter, and emphatically declaredthat he asked no better than to be tested by ‘Tregarthen’sbook.’  My book was examined, and the entry of five hundredpounds was not there.”

“How not there,” said the captain, “when you madeit yourself?”

Tregarthen continued:—

“I was then questioned.  Had I made the entry?  CertainlyI had.  The house produced my book, and it was not there. I could not deny my book; I could not deny my writing.  I knewthere must be forgery by some one; but the writing was wonderfully likemine, and I could impeach no one if the house could not.  I wasrequired to pay the money back.  I did so; and I left the house,almost broken-hearted, rather than remain there,—even if I couldhave done so,—with a dark shadow of suspicion always on me. I returned to my native place, Lanrean, and remained there, clerk toa mine, until I was appointed to my little post here.”

“I well remember,” said the captain, “that I toldyou that if you had no experience of ill judgments on deceiving appearances,you were a lucky man.  You went hurt at that, and I see why. I’m sorry.”

“Thus it is,” said Tregarthen.  “Of my owninnocence I have of course been sure; it has been at once my comfortand my trial.  Of Clissold I have always had suspicions almostamounting to certainty; but they have never been confirmed until now. For my daughter’s sake and for my own I have carried this subjectin my own heart, as the only secret of my life, and have long believedthat it would die with me.”

“Wa’al, my good sir,” said the captain cordially,“the present question is, and will be long, I hope, concerningliving, and not dying.  Now, here are our two honest friends, theloving Raybrock and the slow.  Here they stand, agreed on one point,on which I’d back ’em round the world, and right acrossit from north to south, and then again from east to west, and throughit, from your deepest Cornish mine to China.  It is, that theywill never use this same so-often-mentioned sum of money, and that restitutionof it must be made to you.  These two, the loving member and theslow, for the sake of the right and of their father’s memory,will have it ready for you to-morrow.  Take it, and ease theirminds and mine, and end a most unfortunate transaction.”

Tregarthen took the captain by the hand, and gave his hand to eachof the young men, but positively and finally answered No.  He said,they trusted to his word, and he was glad of it, and at rest in hismind; but there was no proof, and the money must remain as it was. All were very earnest over this; and earnestness in men, when they areright and true, is so impressive, that Mr. Pettifer deserted his cookeryand looked on quite moved.

“And so,” said the captain, “so we come—asthat lawyer-crittur over yonder where we were this morning might—tomere proof; do we?  We must have it; must we?  How? From this Clissold’s wanderings, and from what you say, it ain’thard to make out that there was a neat forgery of your writing committedby the too smart rowdy that was grease and ashes when I made his acquaintance,and a substitution of a forged leaf in your book for a real and tornleaf torn out.  Now was that real and true leaf then and theredestroyed?  No,—for says he, in his drunken way, he slippedit into a crack in his own desk, because you came into the office beforethere was time to burn it, and could never get back to it arterwards. Wait a bit.  Where is that desk now?  Do you consider it likelyto be in America Square, London City?”

Tregarthen shook his head.

“The house has not, for years, transacted business in thatplace.  I have heard of it, and read of it, as removed, enlarged,every way altered.  Things alter so fast in these times.”

“You think so,” returned the captain, with compassion;“but you should come over and see meafore you talk aboutthat.  Wa’al, now.  This desk, this paper,—thispaper, this desk,” said the captain, ruminating and walking about,and looking, in his uneasy abstraction, into Mr. Pettifer’s haton a table, among other things.  “This desk, this paper,—thispaper, this desk,” the captain continued, musing and roaming aboutthe room, “I’d give—”

However, he gave nothing, but took up his steward’s hat instead,and stood looking into it, as if he had just come into church. After that he roamed again, and again said, “This desk, belongingto this house of Dringworth Brothers, America Square, London City—”

Mr. Pettifer, still strangely moved, and now more moved than before,cut the captain off as he backed across the room, and bespake him thus:—

“Captain Jorgan, I have been wishful to engage your attention,but I couldn’t do it.  I am unwilling to interrupt CaptainJorgan, but I must do it.  Iknew something about that house.”

The captain stood stock-still and looked at him,—with his (Mr.Pettifer’s) hat under his arm.

“You’re aware,” pursued his steward, “thatI was once in the broking business, Captain Jorgan?”

“I was aware,” said the captain, “that you hadfailed in that calling, and in half the businesses going, Tom.”

“Not quite so, Captain Jorgan; but I failed in the brokingbusiness.  I was partners with my brother, sir.  There wasa sale of old office furniture at Dringworth Brothers’ when thehouse was moved from America Square, and me and my brother made whatwe call in the trade a Deal there, sir.  And I’ll make boldto say, sir, that the only thing I ever had from my brother, or fromany relation,—for my relations have mostly taken property fromme instead of giving me any,—was an old desk we bought at thatsame sale, with a crack in it.  My brother wouldn’t havegiven me even that, when we broke partnership, if it had been worthanything.”

“Where is that desk now?” said the captain.

“Well, Captain Jorgan,” replied the steward, “Icouldn’t say for certain where it is now; but when I saw it last,—whichwas last time we were outward bound,—it was at a very nice lady’sat Wapping, along with a little chest of mine which was detained fora small matter of a bill owing.”

The captain, instead of paying that rapt attention to his stewardwhich was rendered by the other three persons present, went to Churchagain, in respect of the steward’s hat.  And a most especiallyagitated and memorable face the captain produced from it, after a shortpause.

“Now, Tom,” said the captain, “I spoke to you,when we first came here, respecting your constitutional weakness onthe subject of sun-stroke.”

“You did, sir.”

“Will my slow friend,” said the captain, “lendme his arm, or I shall sink right back’ards into this blessedsteward’s cookery?  Now, Tom,” pursued the captain,when the required assistance was given, “on your oath as a steward,didn’t you take that desk to pieces to make a better one of it,and put it together fresh,—or something of the kind?”

“On my oath I did, sir,” replied the steward.

“And by the blessing of Heaven, my friends, one and all,”cried the captain, radiant with joy,—“of the Heaven thatput it into this Tom Pettifer’s head to take so much care of hishead against the bright sun,—he lined his hat with the originalleaf in Tregarthen’s writing,—and here it is!”

With that the captain, to the utter destruction of Mr. Pettifer’sfavourite hat, produced the book-leaf, very much worn, but still legible,and gave both his legs such tremendous slaps that they were heard faroff in the bay, and never accounted for.

“A quarter past five p.m.,” said the captain, pullingout his watch, “and that’s thirty-three hours and a quarterin all, and a pritty run!”

How they were all overpowered with delight and triumph; how the moneywas restored, then and there, to Tregarthen; how Tregarthen, then andthere, gave it all to his daughter; how the captain undertook to goto Dringworth Brothers and re-establish the reputation of their forgottenold clerk; how Kitty came in, and was nearly torn to pieces, and themarriage was reappointed, needs not to be told.  Nor how she andthe young fisherman went home to the post-office to prepare the wayfor the captain’s coming, by declaring him to be the mightiestof men, who had made all their fortunes,—and then dutifully withdrewtogether, in order that he might have the domestic coast entirely tohimself.  How he availed himself of it is all that remains to tell.

Deeply delighted with his trust, and putting his heart into it, heraised the latch of the post-office parlour where Mrs. Raybrock andthe young widow sat, and said,—

“May I come in?”

“Sure you may, Captain Jorgan!” replied the old lady. “And good reason you have to be free of the house, though youhave not been too well used in it by some who ought to have known better. I ask your pardon.”

“No you don’t, ma’am,” said the captain,“for I won’t let you.  Wa’al, to be sure!”

By this time he had taken a chair on the hearth between them.

“Never felt such an evil spirit in the whole course of my life! There!  I tell you!  I could a’most have cut my ownconnection.  Like the dealer in my country, away West, who whenhe had let himself be outdone in a bargain, said to himself, ‘NowI tell you what!  I’ll never speak to you again.’ And he never did, but joined a settlement of oysters, and translatedthe multiplication table into their language,—which is a factthat can be proved.  If you doubt it, mention it to any oysteryou come across, and see if he’ll have the face to contradictit.”

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 fondof small people.  I have a child, and she’s a girl, and Ising 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,—storiesof 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 childon his knee.  For he felt that Margaret had stopped working.

“Yes,” said the captain, still looking at the fire, “Imake up stories and tell ’em to that child.  Stories of shipwreckon 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 theshades of night were on the village, and the stars had begun to peepout of the sky one by one, as the houses of the village peeped out fromamong the foliage when the night departed.  The captain felt thatMargaret’s eyes were upon him, and thought it discreetest to keephis own eyes on the fire.

“Yes; I make ’em up,” said the captain.  “Imake up stories of brothers brought together by the good providenceof GOD,—of sons brought back to mothers, husbands brought backto wives, fathers raised from the deep, for little children like herself.”

Margaret’s touch was on his arm, and he could not choose butlook round now.  Next moment her hand moved imploringly to hisbreast, and she was on her knees before him,—supporting the mother,who was also kneeling.

“What’s the matter?” said the captain.  “What’sthe matter?

Silas Jorgan
Played the—

Their looks and tears were too much for him, and he could not finishthe 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 hopeso!”

“Wa’al, my dear,” said the captain, “p’rhapsit has come.  He’s—don’t be frightened—shallI say the word—”

“Alive?”

“Yes!”

The thanks they fervently addressed to Heaven were again too muchfor the captain, who openly took out his handkerchief and dried hiseyes.

“He’s no further off,” resumed the captain, “thanmy country.  Indeed, he’s no further off than his own nativecountry.  To tell you the truth, he’s no further off thanFalmouth.  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 thanwhistle for him—”

The captain’s trust was discharged.  A rush came, andthey were all together again.

This was a fine opportunity for Tom Pettifer to appear with a tumblerof cold water, and he presently appeared with it, and administered itto the ladies; at the same time soothing them, and composing their dresses,exactly as if they had been passengers crossing the Channel.  Theextent to which the captain slapped his legs, when Mr. Pettifer acquittedhimself of this act of stewardship, could have been thoroughly appreciatedby no one but himself; inasmuch as he must have slapped them black andblue, and they must have smarted tremendously.

He couldn’t stay for the wedding, having a few appointmentsto keep at the irreconcilable distance of about four thousand miles. So next morning all the village cheered him up to the level ground above,and there he shook hands with a complete Census of its population, andinvited the whole, without exception, to come and stay several monthswith him at Salem, Mass., U.S.  And there as he stood on the spotwhere he had seen that little golden picture of love and parting, andfrom which he could that morning contemplate another golden picturewith a vista of golden years in it, little Kitty put her arms aroundhis neck, and kissed him on both his bronzed cheeks, and laid her prettyface upon his storm-beaten breast, in sight of all,—ashamed tohave called such a noble captain names.  And there the captainwaved his hat over his head three final times; and there he was lastseen, going away accompanied by Tom Pettifer Ho, and carrying his handsin his pockets.  And there, before that ground was softened withthe fallen leaves of three more summers, a rosy little boy took hisfirst unsteady run to a fair young mother’s breast, and the nameof that infant fisherman was Jorgan Raybrock.

FOOTNOTES

{ 1}  Dicken’sdidn’t write chapters three and four and they are omitted in thisedition.  The story continues with Captain Jorgan and Alfred atLanrean.

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