CAPTAIN BOXALL'S PROPOSAL.
About three weeks before the occurrences last recorded, the following
conversation took place between Richard and John Boxall over their wine:
"I tell you what, brother," said the captain, "you're addling good
brains with overwork. You won't make half so much money if you're too
greedy after it. You don't look the same fellow you used to."
"I hope I'm not too greedy after money, John. But it's my business, as
your's is to sail your ship."
"Yes, yes. I can't sail my ship too well, nor you attend to your
business too well. But if I was to sail two ships instead of one, or
if I was to be on deck instead of down at my dinner when she was going
before the wind in the middle of the Atlantic, I shouldn't do my best
when it came on to blow hard in the night."
"That's all very true. But I don't think it applies to me. I never miss
my dinner, by any chance."
"Don't you turn your blind eye on my signal, Dick. You know what I mean
well enough. I've got a proposal to make--the jolliest thing in the
world."
"Go on. I'm listening."
"Mary ain't quite so well again--is she now?"
"Well, I don't think she's been getting on so fast. I suppose it's the
spring weather."
"Why, you may call it summer now. But she ain't as I should like to see
her, the darling."
"Well, no. I must confess I'm sometimes rather uneasy about her."
"And there's Jane. She don't look at home, somehow."
For some time Richard had been growing more and more uneasy as the
evidence of his daughter's attachment to Charles Wither became plainer.
Both he and his wife did the best they could to prevent their meeting,
but having learned a little wisdom from the history of his father's
family, and knowing well the hastiness of his own temper, he had as yet
managed to avoid any open conflict with his daughter, who he knew had
inherited his own stubbornness. He had told his brother nothing of this
second and now principal source of family apprehension; and the fact
that John saw that all was not right with Jane, greatly increased his
feeling of how much things were going wrong. He made no reply, however,
but sat waiting what was to follow. Accumulating his arguments the
captain went on.
"And there's your wife; she's had a headache almost every day since I
came to the house."
"Well, what are you driving at, John?" said his brother, with the more
impatience that he knew all John said was true.
"What I'm driving at is this," answered the captain, _bringing-to_
suddenly. "You must all make this next voyage in my clipper. It'll do
you all a world o' good, and me too."
"Nonsense, John," said Richard, feeling however that a faint light
dawned through the proposal.
"Don't call it nonsense till you've slept upon it, Dick. The ship's
part mine, and I can make it easy for you. You'll have to pay a little
passage-money, just to keep me right with the rest of the owners; but
that won't be much, and you're no screw, though I did say you were too
greedy after the money. I believe it's not the money so much as the
making of it that fills your head."
"Still, you wouldn't have me let the business go to the dogs?"
"No fear of that, with Stopper at the head of affairs. I'll tell you
what you must do. You must take him in."
"Into partnership, do you mean?" said Richard, his tone expressing no
surprise, for he had thought of this before.
"Yes, I do. You'll have to do it some day, and the sooner the better.
If you don't, you'll lose him, and that you'll find won't be a mere
loss. That man'll make a dangerous enemy. Where he bites he'll hold.
And now's a good time to serve yourself and him too."
"Perhaps you're right, brother," answered the merchant, emptying his
glass of claret and filling it again instantly, an action indicating a
certain perturbed hesitation not in the least common to him. "I'll turn
it over in my mind. I certainly should not be sorry to have a short
holiday. I haven't had one to speak of for nearly twenty years, I do
believe."
John judged it better not to press him. He believed from what he knew
of himself and his brother too that good advice was best let alone
to work its own effects. He turned the conversation to something
indifferent.
But after this many talks followed. Mrs. Boxall, of course, was
consulted. Although she shrunk from the thought of a sea voyage, she
yet saw in the proposal a way out of many difficulties, especially
as giving room for time to work one of his especial works--that of
effacement. So between the three the whole was arranged before either
of the young people was spoken to on the subject. Jane heard it with
a rush of blood to her heart that left her dark face almost livid.
Mary received the news gladly, even merrily, though a slight paleness
followed and just indicated that she regarded the journey as the symbol
and sign of severed bonds. Julia, a plump child of six, upon whose
condition no argument for the voyage could be founded, danced with
joy at the idea of going in Uncle John's ship. Mr. Stopper threw no
difficulty in the way of accepting a partnership in the concern, and
thus matters were arranged.
John Boxall had repeatedly visited his mother during the six weeks he
spent at his brother's house. He seldom saw Lucy, however, because of
her engagement at the Morgensterns', until her grandmother's sickness
kept her more at home. Then, whether it was that Lucy expected
her uncle to be prejudiced against her, or that he really was so
prejudiced, I do not know, but the two did not take much to each
other. Lucy considered her uncle a common and rough-looking sailor;
John Boxall called his niece a fine lady. And so they parted.
On the same day on which Thomas and Lucy _had their blow_ on the river,
the _Ningpo_ had cleared out of St. Katharine's Dock, and was lying
in the Upper Pool, all but ready to drop down with the next tide to
Gravesend, where she was to take her passengers on board.