Many Cargoes Part 38

"I couldn't do it!" said the captain. "It wouldn't be right and fair to her."

"I don't see that!" said Pepper. "I never ought to have married her without being certain her first was dead. It ain't right, Crippen; say what you like, it ain't right!"

"If you put it that way," said the captain hesitatingly.

"Have some more gin," said the artful pilot.

The captain had some more, and, what with flattery and gin, combined with the pleadings of his friend, began to consider the affair more favourably. Pepper stuck to his guns, and used them so well that when the captain saw him off that evening he was pledged up to the hilt to come down to Sunset Bay and personate the late Captain Budd on the following Thursday.

The ex-pilot pa.s.sed the intervening days in a sort of trance, from which he only emerged to take nourishment, or answer the scoldings of his wife. On the eventful Thursday, however, his mood changed, and he went about in such a state of suppressed excitement that he could scarcely keep still.

"Lor' bless me!" snapped Mrs. Pepper, as he slowly perambulated the parlour that afternoon. "What ails the man? Can't you keep still for five minutes?"

The ex-pilot stopped and eyed her solemnly, but, ere he could reply, his heart gave a great bound, for, from behind the geraniums which filled the window, he saw the face of Captain Crippen slowly rise and peer cautiously into the room. Before his wife could follow the direction of her husband's eyes it had disappeared.

"Somebody looking in at the window," said Pepper, with forced calmness, in reply to his wife's eyebrows.

"Like their impudence!" said the unconscious woman, resuming her knitting, while her husband waited in vain for the captain to enter.

He waited some time, and then, half dead with excitement, sat down, and with shaking fingers lit his pipe. As he looked up the stalwart figure of the captain pa.s.sed the window. During the next twenty minutes it pa.s.sed seven times, and Pepper, coming to the not unnatural conclusion that his friend intended to pa.s.s the afternoon in the same unprofitable fashion, resolved to force his hand.

"Must be a tramp," he said aloud.

"Who?" inquired his wife. "Man keeps looking in at the window," said Pepper desperately. "Keeps looking in till he meets my eye, then he disappears. Looks like an old sea-captain, something."

"Old sea-captain?" said his wife, putting down her work and turning round. There was a strange hesitating note in her voice. She looked at the window, and at the same instant the head of the captain again appeared above the geraniums, and, meeting her gaze, hastily vanished.

Martha Pepper sat still for a moment, and then, rising in a slow, dazed fashion, crossed to the door and opened it. Mermaid Pa.s.sage was empty!

"See anybody?" quavered Pepper.

His wife shook her head, but in a strangely quiet fashion, and, sitting down, took up her knitting again.

For some time the click of the needles and the tick of the clock were the only sounds audible, and the ex-pilot had just arrived at the conclusion that his friend had abandoned him to his fate, when there came a low tapping at the door.

"Come in!" cried Pepper, starting.

The door opened slowly, and the tall figure of Captain Crippen entered and stood there eyeing them nervously. A neat little speech he had prepared failed him at the supreme moment. He leaned against the wall, and in a clumsy, shamefaced fashion lowered his gaze, and stammered out the one word-"Martha!"

At that word Mrs. Pepper rose and stood with parted lips, eyeing him wildly.

"Jem!" she gasped, "Jem!"

"Martha!" croaked the captain again.

With a choking cry Mrs. Pepper ran towards him, and, to the huge gratification of her lawful spouse, flung her arms about his neck and kissed him violently.

"Jem," she cried breathlessly, "is it really you? I can hardly believe it. Where have you been all this long time? Where have you been?"

"Lots of places," said the captain, who was not prepared to answer a question like that offhand; "but wherever I've been"-he held up his hand theatrically-"the image of my dear lost wife has been always in front of me."

"I knew you at once, Jem," said Mrs. Pepper fondly, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. "Have I altered much?"

"Not a bit," said Crippen, holding her at arm's length and carefully regarding her. "You look just the same as the first time I set eyes on you."

"Where have you been?" wailed Martha Pepper, putting her head on his shoulder.

"When the Dolphin went down from under me, and left me fighting with the waves for life and Martha, I was cast ash.o.r.e on a desert island," began Crippen fluently. "There I remained for nearly three years, when I was rescued by a barque bound for New South Wales. There I met a man from Poole who told me you were dead. Having no further interest in the land of my birth, I sailed in Australian waters for many years, and it was only lately that I heard how cruelly I had been deceived, and that my little flower was still blooming."

The little flower's head being well down on his shoulder again, the celebrated actor exchanged glances with the worshipping Pepper.

"If you'd only come before, Jem," said Mrs. Pepper. "Who was he? What was his name?"

"Smith," said the cautious captain.

"If you'd only come before, Jem," said Mrs. Pepper, in a smothered voice, "it would have been better. Only three months ago I married that object over there."

The captain attempted a melodramatic start with such success, that, having somewhat underestimated the weight of his fair bride, he nearly lost his balance.

"It can't be helped, I suppose," he said reproachfully, "but you might have waited a little longer, Martha."

"Well, I'm your wife, anyhow," said Martha, "and I'll take care I never lose you again. You shall never go out of my sight again till you die.

Never."

"Nonsense, my pet," said the captain, exchanging uneasy glances with the ex-pilot. "Nonsense."

"It isn't nonsense, Jem," said the lady, as she drew him on to the sofa and sat with her arms round his neck. "It may be true, all you've told me, and it may not. For all I know, you may have been married to some other woman; but I've got you now, and I intend to keep you."

"There, there," said the captain, as soothingly as a strange sinking at the heart would allow him.

"As for that other little man, I only married him because he worried me so," said Mrs. Pepper tearfully. "I never loved him, but he used to follow me about and propose. Was it twelve or thirteen times you proposed to me, Pepper?"

"I forget," said the ex-pilot shortly.

"But I never loved him," she continued. "I never loved you a bit, did I, Pepper?"

"Not a bit," said Pepper warmly. "No man could ever have a harder or more unfeeling wife than you was. I'll say that for you, willing."

As he bore this testimony to his wife's fidelity there was a knock at the door, and, upon his opening it, the rector's daughter, a lady of uncertain age, entered, and stood regarding with amazement the frantic but ineffectual struggles of Captain Crippen to release himself from a position as uncomfortable as it was ridiculous.

"Mrs. Pepper!" said the lady, aghast. "Oh, Mrs. Pepper!"

"It's all right, Miss Winthrop," said the lady addressed, calmly, as she forced the captain's flushed face on to her ample shoulder again; "it's my first husband, Jem Budd."

"Good gracious!" said Miss Winthrop, starting. "Enoch Arden in the flesh!"

"Who?" inquired Pepper, with a show of polite interest.

"Enoch Arden," said Miss Winthrop. "One of our great poets wrote a n.o.ble poem about a sailor who came home and found that his wife had married again; but, in the POEM, the first husband went away without making himself known, and died of a broken heart."