When the tide is up and the sun shining, Seabridge has attractions which make
the absence of visitors something of a marvel to the inhabitants. A wandering
artist or two, locally known as “painter-chaps,” certainly visit it, but as
they usually select subjects for their canvases of which the progressive party
of the town are heartily ashamed, they are regarded as spies rather than
visitors, and are tolerated rather than welcomed. To a citizen who has for a
score of years regretted the decay of his town, the spectacle of a stranger
gloating over its ruins and perpetuating them on canvas is calculated to excite
strong doubts as to his mental capacity and his fitness to be at large.
On a summer’s evening, when the tide is out and the high ground the other
side of the river is assuming undefinable shadows, the little town has other
charms to the meditative man. Such life as there is, is confined to the taverns
and the two or three narrow little streets which comprise the town. The
tree-planted walk by the river is almost deserted, and the last light of the
dying day is reflected in the pools and mud left by the tide.
Captain Nibletts, slowly pacing along and smoking his pipe in the serenity of
the evening, felt these things dimly. His gaze wandered from a shadowy barge
crawling along in mid-channel to the cheery red blind of Boatman’s Arms, and
then to the road in search of Captain Barber, for whom he had been enquiring
since the morning. A stout lady stricken in years sat on a seat overlooking the
river, and the mariner, with a courteous salutation, besought her assistance.
“I’ve been looking for him myself,” said Mrs. Banks, breathlessly, “and now
my Elizabeth’s nowhere to be found. She’s been out since two o’clock this
afternoon.”
Nibletts pointed up the road with his pipe. “I see her only ten minutes ago
with young Gibson,” he said, slowly.
“Which way was they going?” demanded the old lady, rising.
“I don’t know,” said Nibletts. “I don’t think they knew either an’ what’s more,
I don’t think they cared.”
The old lady resumed her seat, and, folding her hands in her lap, gazed in a
troubled fashion across the river, until the figure of another woman coming
along the walk brought her back to every-day affairs.
“Why, it’s Mrs. Church,” said Nibletts. “He’s nowhere to be found,” he shouted,
before she reached them.
“He?” said the widow, slowly. “Who?”
“Cap’n Barber,” replied the mariner.
“Oh, indeed,” she said, politely. “Good evening, Mrs. Banks.”
Mrs. Banks returned the courtesy. “It looks as though Cap’n Barber has run
away,” she said, with attempted jocularity.
Mrs. Church smiled a superior smile. “He is not far off,” she said, quietly.
“Resting, I suppose,” said Mrs. Banks, with intent.
Mrs. Church took higher ground. “Of course this sad affair has upset him
terribly,” she said, gravely. “His is a faithful nature, and he can’t forget.
How is Miss Banks bearing up?”
Mrs. Banks, looking up suspiciously, said, “Wonderful, considering,” and
relapsed into silence until such time as her foe should give her an opening.
Mrs. Church took a seat by her side, and Nibletts, with a feeling of something
strained in the atmosphere, for which he could not account, resumed his walk.
He was nearly up to Captain Barber’s house when he saw a figure come out of the
lane by the side, and after glancing furtively in all directions make silently
for the door. The watching Nibletts quickening his pace, reached it at almost
the same moment.
“Mrs. Banks is looking for you,” he said, as he followed him into the parlour.
Captain Barber turned on him a weary eye, but made no reply.
“And Mrs. Church, too; at least, I think so,” continued the other.
“Cap’n Nibletts,” said the old man, slowly, “I ’ope you’ll never live long
enough to be run arter in the way I’m run arter.”
The astonished mariner murmured humbly that he didn’t think it was at all
likely, and also that Mrs. Nibletts would probably have a word or two to say in
the matter.
“From the moment I get up to the moment I get to bed, I’m run arter,” continued
the hapless Barber. “Mrs. Church won’t let me go out of ’er sight if she can
help it, and Mrs. Banks is as bad as she is. While they was saying nice things
to each other this morning in a nasty way I managed to slip out.”
“Well, why not get rid o’ Mrs. Church?” said the simple Nibletts.
“Rid o’ Mrs. Church!” repeated Captain Barber, aghast; “why don’t you get rid
o’ your face, Nibletts?” he asked, by way of comparison merely.
“Because I don’t want to,” replied the other, flushing.
“Because you _can’t_” said Captain Barber, emphatically. “And no more can’t I
get rid of ’er. You see, I ’appened to take a little notice of ’er.”
“Oh, well,” said the other, and sighed and shook his head discouragingly.
“I took a little notice of ’er,” repeated Captain Barber, “and then to spare
her feelings I ’ad to sort o’ let ’er know that I could never marry for Fred’s
sake, d’ye see? Then on top of all that poor Fred goes and gets drownded.”
“But have you promised to marry her?” asked Nibletts, with a cunning look.
“Of course I’ve not,” rejoined Captain Barber, testily; “but when you know as
much about wimmen as I do, you’ll know that that’s got nothing to do with it.
It gets took for granted. Mrs. Church’s whole manner to me now is that of a
engaged young person. If she was sitting here now she’d put ’er hand on top o’
mine.”
“Not before me?” said Nibletts, in a shocked voice.
“Before the Prince of Wales and all the Royal Family,” replied Captain Barber,
with conviction. “You’ve no idea how silly and awkward it makes me feel.”
“Here she comes,” said Nibletts, in a low voice, “and Mrs. Banks and her
daughter, too.”
Captain Barber coughed and, sitting upright, strove to look unconcerned as the
three ladies came into the room and expressed their pleasure at seeing him.
“I couldn’t think what ’ad happened to you,” said Mrs. Banks, as she sank
panting into a chair, and, unfastening her bonnet-strings, sat regarding him
with her hands on her knees.
“I knew he was all right,” said Mrs. Church, folding her hands and regarding
him with her head on one side; “if anything happened to him I should know if he
was a hundred miles away.”
She sat down by Captain Barber, and laying her hand upon his, pressed it
affectionately. The captain, a picture of misery, exchanged a significant
glance with Nibletts, and emitted an involuntary groan.
“Don’t take on so,” said Mrs. Banks, compassionately. “Do you know, I’ve got a
feeling that poor Fred has been saved!”
“That’s my feeling, too,” said Captain Barber, in a firm voice.
“It’s very likely,” said Captain Nibletts, slowly.
“What’s easier than for him to have been picked up by a passing vessel, and
carried off goodness knows where?” enquired Mrs. Banks, with a glance evenly
distributed between her daughter and the housekeeper.
“I heard of a man once who fell overboard,” said Captain Nibletts, softly, “and
he turned up safe and sound twenty years arter.”
“Married man?” enquired Miss Banks, softly.
“He was,” said the captain, with the doggedness of a witness under
cross-examination.
Mrs. Church turned her eyes upwards. “Fancy the joyful meeting of husband and
wife,” she said, sentimentally.
“She died just two days afore he turned up,” said Captain Nibletts, simply.
There was a frigid silence during which the three ladies, sinking for a time
their differences, eyed him with every sign of strong disapprobation, Mrs.
Banks giving vent to a sniff which disparaged the whole race of man.
“As for men who fall overboard and get picked up and turn up months
afterwards,” continued the faithful Nibletts, “why, every sailorman knows
scores of ’em.”
“I knowed seven,” said Captain Barber, with the exactness of untruth. “They
didn’t seem to think much of it, didn’t seem to think it anything unusual, I
mean.”
“It ain’t,” said Nibletts, stoutly.
The room relapsed into silence, and Captain Nibletts, finding Mrs. Church’s
gaze somewhat trying, got up to admire a beautiful oil painting on glass in a
black frame which hung over the mantelpiece, and after a few encomiums on his
host’s taste, bade him good-bye.
“I’m coming with you,” said Barber, rising; “I’ve got some business to talk
about.”
“What, out again,” said Mrs. Church, tenderly, “after being on your poor feet
all day?”
Captain Barber murmured something inaudible in reply, and taking his hat from
the sideboard went out with Nibletts. For a time they trudged along in silence
until the latter, who wanted to go to his own home, ventured to ask where they
were going.
“All places are alike to me,” replied the old man, dismally. “I only want to
get away, that’s all. She an’ Mrs. Banks are sure to have a turn and try and
drag me into it.”
He clasped his hands behind his back, and, pausing at a turn of the road,
looked down upon the little quay below. Out in the river two or three small
craft rode at anchor, while a babble of cheerful voices from a distant boat
only served to emphasise the stillness of the evening.
“Looks quiet,” said Captain Nibletts, after watching him for some time.
“I’m thinking of my nevy,” said Captain Barber, slowly. “I remember me an’ my
sister bringing ’im here when he was three year old, and I ’ad to carry him all
the way back. He put his arms round my neck, and I can smell peppermint-ball
now.”
Captain Nibletts, who did not quite follow him, attributed the outrage to a
young couple who had just passed.
“I’m all alone now,” continued Captain Barber, unheeding, “but I don’t want to
marry. Why not? ’Cos I’m too old, and because it’s like beginning where other
people leave off.”
“Well, make up your mind and tell her so,” said the other.
“It wouldn’t do any good,” said Barber, dolefully.
“Tell her to-night,” said Nibletts, “Come into the Thorn and have a glass, just
so as to warm you up to it, and then get it over.”
Captain Barber made no reply, but turning round led the way slowly back to the
inn, and after acknowledging the respectful salutations of the crew of the
schooner who were in the bar by ordering the landlady to fill their pots again,
led the way into the parlour and began to charge himself for the interview.
That he did not underestimate the difficulties of the ordeal was evident by
the extent of his orders, and Captain Nibletts noted with satisfaction as the
evening wore on that the old man’s spirits were improving considerably. Twice
he sent out instructions to the bar to have the men’s mugs replenished, a
proceeding which led to Mr. William Green being sent by the grateful crew to
express their feelings in a neat little speech.
“A very nice-spoken young fellow,” said Captain Barber, approvingly.
He had some more whisky, and at the sounds of a step-dance on the brick floor
of the adjoining taproom, took up his glass, and, followed by Nibletts, watched
the proceedings from the doorway. Mr. William Green, who worshipped wealth and
position, sidled up to him, and with much deference discussed the dancing.
He made such a favourable impression that Captain Barber, who was in a
semi-maudlin mood, took him by the arm to the now deserted parlour, and
ensconcing him in a corner, told him all his troubles and warned him of the
pitfalls which beset the feet of good-looking bachelors. Mr. Green was sympathy
itself, and for some time sat silently evolving various schemes for the
deliverance of his patron.
Captain Nibletts returning to the parlour a little later found them in close
consultation. A ray of hope illuminated the somewhat heavy features of the old
man, and, catching sight of the captain, he beckoned him to his side.
“Me an’ this young man have thought of something,” he said, in a voice rendered
husky with excitement.
Nibletts waited.
“He’s goin’ to call at my place,” continued the other, “and tell Mrs. Church
that I’ve been took unwell at the Cauliflower at Mapleden, and want to see her,
and he’s to bring her there at once. Arter they’ve started I go in and get to
bed, and earthquakes wouldn’t wake me, let alone a knock at the door. D’ye see?”
“What good’s that goin’ to do?” enquired the astonished listener.
“Next day,” said Barber, in thrilling tones, as he placed his forefinger on the
other’s arm, “I refuse to believe her story. Green, here, denies of it too, and
sez ’e saw her at the gate and asked her to go for a walk with him.”
Captain Nibletts fingered his beard. “It don’t seem to be the sort of trick to
play on a woman,” he expostulated, “an’ it’s four miles to Mapleden. What’s she
goin’ to do?”
“That’s ’er lookout,” observed Captain Barber, with much composure, “all I
know is she won’t wake me. I daresay she’ll come on to your place. Wimmen wot
sets their caps at men wot don’t want ’em set at ’em must put up with the
consequences.”
“You give me half an hour, sir,” said Mr. Green, impressively, “and then you
can come on as soon as you like. You’ll find the coast clear by then.”
He bit off the end of the cigar presented by Captain Barber, and, thanking him
effusively as he struck a match for him, quitted the inn. The two captains
waited restlessly for the time specified, and then, finishing their drinks,
went outside, and, standing in the light which streamed from the windows and
doorway of the Thorn, gazed at the dark road beyond.
“It looks all right,” said Barber, shaking hands. “Good-night.”
“Good luck,” said Nibletts.
The other, not without a little trepidation, walked towards his house, and
opening the door, after a little difficulty, stood safely inside. The house was
quiet and in darkness, except for the lamp which stood on the parlour-table,
and after a moment’s survey he proceeded to shut up for the night.
As a rule he was careless about such matters, but to-night no gaoler saw to his
bolts and bars more carefully than he did. He returned to the parlour, having
made all secure, and lighting his pipe for a few final whiffs before retiring,
winked at himself solemnly in the glass. Then fearful that the housekeeper
might return sooner than was expected, he blew out the lamp and smoked in the
dark.
He knocked out his pipe at last, and walked slowly and ponderously upstairs. He
grinned again as he passed the door of the housekeeper’s room, and then, with
a catch in his breath, clutched heavily at the banister as a soft female voice
bade him “Good-night.”
Captain Barber, surprised beyond all measure, was unable to speak.
“I thought you’d got lost again,” said the voice, playfully. “Good-night.”
“Good-night,” rejoined the other, in hollow tones. “Mrs. Banks stay long?” he
enquired, pausing at his door.
“She went just about half an hour before you came in,” replied the housekeeper.
“Elizabeth went soon after you did, but her mother stopped on. She went very
suddenly when she did go, and was very mysterious about it. Not that I want to
know her business.”
“Mysterious?” faltered the captain.
“Some young man came to the door,” continued the innocent woman, “and they
were talking in a low voice. I don’t know who it was, because Mrs. Banks let
me see quite plainly that she didn’t want me to know. Then she just called out
‘Goodnight,’ and went off as fast as you please.”
Captain Barber supported himself for a moment by the handle of his door, and
then in a dazed way blundered into his room. He was a good-hearted man in a
way, and pushing open the little casement he thrust out his head and sighed
with genuine feeling as he thought of his poor old friend plodding slowly to
Mapleden. Incidentally he felt a little bit sorry for Mr. William Green.
He was awakened next morning after a somewhat restless night by the sounds
of an unwonted noise downstairs, and lay in amazement listening to a hum of
excited voices below. Knuckles rapped on his door and the voice of Mrs. Church,
much agitated, requested him to rise and attire himself.
He was out of bed at that and looking from the window. A small group of
children stood in the road outside the house, while Joe and the cook with
their arms on the fence were staring hard at his parlour window, occasionally
varying the proceedings by a little conversation with the people next door, who
were standing in their front garden. In a state of considerable agitation he
hurriedly dressed himself and went downstairs.
His sitting-room was full. Mrs. Banks, looking very tired, was sitting in
the armchair taking smelling-salts at intervals, and staring fiercely at Mr.
William Green, who was huddled in a corner smiling sheepishly behind Captain
Nibletts and Ben.
“What’s all this?” demanded Captain Barber, in a trembling voice, as his eye
met Mr. Green’s.
Several of Mrs. Banks’s relatives began speaking at once, assisted by some of
the neighbours. The substance of their remarks was that a man whose polite
tongue hid the falseness of his heart, had lured Mrs. Banks for a four-mile
walk to Mapleden late the preceding night under the pretence that Captain
Barber, who was evidently hale and hearty, was lying ill at the Cauliflower.
They demanded his immediate dismissal from the ship and his exemplary
punishment by the law.
“What ’ave you got to say to this?” demanded Captain Barber of the villain, in
tones of righteous indignation tempered by fear.
“It isn’t true, sir,” said Mr. Green, respectfully. “I didn’t say anything of
the kind.”
“Wot did you say, then?” enquired Captain Barber, in a voice which the company
thought far too mild for the occasion.
“She was standing at the door as I passed,” said Mr. Green, nervously, “and I
asked her to go for a walk with me.”
“Lawk-a-mussy me!” screamed the horrified Mrs. Banks.
“We went for a nice little stroll,” continued the graceless Mr. Green, “and
then I s’pose she found it was later than she thought, and she began to make a
fuss.”
“Me, at my time o’ life?” demanded the indignant Mrs. Banks of the audience.
“You _did_ make a fuss,” said Mr. Green.
“O’ course I made a fuss when I found out how I had been deceived. You were
here when he came, Mrs. Church, weren’t you?”
“I would rather not say anything about it,” said the housekeeper, freezingly.
“I insist upon your speaking,” said the old lady, getting very red in the face.
“Well, I don’t know much about it,” said the housekeeper, looking round
appealingly. “I heard you speaking to somebody at the door in a low voice.”
“It wasn’t a low voice,” interrupted Mrs. Banks, sharply.
“Well, I couldn’t hear what you were saying, and then when you went outside and
I asked you whether you were going home you said ‘yes,’ didn’t you?”
“Are you sure she said she was going home?” said Mrs. Banks’s brother-in-law,
in an awful voice, as the old lady sank back in her chair.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Church, with a fine show of reluctance.
There was a dead silence, during which they all heard the smelling-salts drop.
“If this man said Captain Barber was ill at Mapleden, why didn’t you tell me?”
continued Mrs. Church, in a mildly aggrieved voice. “I think if anybody ought
to have known, it should have been me.”
“It’s all a fuss about nothing,” said Mr. Green, brazenly. “She stayed out a
bit too late, and then wanted to put it all on to me.”
A good Samaritan picked up the smelling-salts and held them to the victim’s
nose, while her scandalized relatives discussed the situation in hurried
whispers. The brother-in-law eyed her with bewildered disapproval, and in the
disjointed accents peculiar to surprise was heard to make use of the words
“friskiness” and “gallivanting” and “old enough to know better.”
Her relatives’ remarks, however, caused Mrs. Banks comparatively little pain.
Her attention was fully taken up by the housekeeper, in whose satisfied
smile she saw a perfect recognition of the reasons for her action of the
previous evening. She got up from her chair, and with a stateliness which her
brother-in-law thought somewhat misplaced, took her daughter’s arm, and slowly
left the room, her departure being the signal for a general breakup. By twos
and threes the company drifted slowly up the road in her wake, while Captain
Barber, going in the other direction, accompanied Captain Nibletts and party as
far as the schooner, in order that he might have the opportunity of saying a
few well-chosen words to Mr. Green on the subject of precipitancy.
“If it ’adn’t been for me tipping ’im the wink, so as to let him know what line
’e was to go on when I came down, where should I ’ave been?” he demanded of
Captain Nibletts.
And that astonished mariner, with a helpless shake of his head, gave it up.