THE TEA-PARTY--ACCIDENTS AND INCIDENTS OF A MINOR KIND--GLYNN PROCTOR
GETS INTO TROUBLE.
On the evening of the day in which the foregoing scenes were enacted,
the Misses Dunning prepared a repast for their brother and one or two of
his officers, who were to spend the last evening in port there, and
discuss various important and unimportant matters in a sort of
semi-convivio-business way.
An event of this kind was always of the deepest interest and productive
of the most intense anxiety to the amiable though starched sisters;
first, because it was of rare occurrence; and second, because they were
never quite certain that it would pass without some unhappy accident,
such as the upsetting of a tea-cup or a kettle, or the scalding of the
cat, not to mention visitors' legs. They seemed to regard a tea-party
in the light of a firearm--a species of blunderbuss--a thing which, it
was to be hoped, would "go off well"; and, certainly, if loading the
table until it groaned had anything to do with the manner of its "going
off," there was every prospect of its doing so with pre-eminent success
upon that occasion.
But besides the anxieties inseparable from the details of the pending
festivities, the Misses Dunning were overwhelmed and weighed down with
additional duties consequent upon their brother's sudden and unexpected
determination. Little Ailie had to be got ready for sea by the
following morning! It was absolute and utter insanity! No one save a
madman or a sea-captain could have conceived such a thing, much less
have carried it into effect tyrannically.
The Misses Dunning could not attempt any piece of duty or work
separately. They always acted together, when possible; and might, in
fact, without much inconvenience, have been born Siamese twins.
Whatever Martha did, Jane attempted to do or to mend; wherever Jane
went, Martha followed. Not, by any means, that one thought she could
improve upon the work of the other; their conduct was simply the result
of a desire to assist each other mutually. When Martha spoke, Jane
echoed or corroborated; and when Jane spoke, Martha repeated her
sentences word for word in a scarcely audible whisper--not after the
other had finished, but during the course of the remarks.
With such dispositions and propensities, it is not a matter to be
wondered at that the good ladies, while arranging the tea-table, should
suddenly remember some forgotten article of Ailie's wardrobe, and rush
simultaneously into the child's bedroom to rectify the omission; or,
when thus engaged, be filled with horror at the thought of having left
the buttered toast too near the fire in the parlour.
"It is really quite perplexing," said Martha, sitting down with a sigh,
and regarding the tea-table with a critical gaze; "quite perplexing.
I'm sure I don't know how I shall bear it. It is too bad of George--
darling Ailie--(dear me, Jane, how crookedly you have placed the urn)--
it is really too bad."
"Too bad, indeed; yes, isn't it?" echoed Jane, in reference to the
captain's conduct, while she assisted Martha, who had risen to readjust
the urn.
"Oh!" exclaimed Martha, with a look of horror.
"What?" cried Jane, who looked and felt equally horrified, although she
knew not yet the cause.
"The eggs!"
"The eggs?"
"Yes, the eggs. You know every one of the last dozen we got was bad,
and we've forgot to send for more," said Martha.
"For more; so we have!" cried Jane; and both ladies rushed into the
kitchen, gave simultaneous and hurried orders to the servant-girl, and
sent her out of the house impressed with an undefined feeling that life
or death depended on the instant procuring of two dozen fresh eggs.
It may be as well to remark here, that the Misses Dunning, although
stiff, and starched, and formal, had the power of speeding nimbly from
room to room, when alone and when occasion required, without in the
least degree losing any of their stiffness or formality, so that we do
not use the terms "rush," "rushed," or "rushing" inappropriately.
Nevertheless, it may also be remarked that they never acted in a rapid
or impulsive way in company, however small in numbers or unceremonious
in character the company might be--always excepting the servant-girl and
the cat, to whose company, from long habit, they had become used, and
therefore indifferent.
The sisters were on their knees, stuffing various articles into a large
trunk, and Ailie was looking on, by way of helping, with very red and
swollen eyes, and the girl was still absent in quest of eggs, when a
succession of sounding blows were administered to the green door, and a
number of gruff voices were heard conversing without.
"_There_!" cried Martha and Jane, with bitter emphasis, looking in each
other's faces as if to say, "We knew it. Before that girl was sent away
for these eggs, we each separately and privately prophesied that they
would arrive, and that we should have to open the door. And you see, so
it has happened, and we are not ready!"
But there was no time for remark. The case was desperate. Both sisters
felt it to be so, and acted accordingly, while Ailie, having been
forbidden to open the door, sat down on her trunk, and looked on in
surprise. They sprang up, washed their hands simultaneously in the same
basin, with the same piece of soap broken in two; dried them with the
same towel, darted to the mirror, put on two identically similar clean
tall caps, leaped down-stairs, opened the door with slow dignity of
demeanour, and received their visitors in the hall with a calmness and
urbanity of manner that contrasted rather strangely with their flushed
countenances and heaving bosoms.
"Hallo! Ailie!" exclaimed the captain, as his daughter pulled down his
head to be kissed. "Why, you take a fellow all aback, like a white
squall. Are you ready, my pet? Kit stowed and anchor tripped? Come
this way, and let us talk about it. Dear me, Martha, you and Jane--look
as if you had been running a race, eh? Here are my messmates come to
talk a bit with you. My sisters, Martha and Jane--Dr Hopley." (Dr
Hopley bowed politely.) "My first mate, Mr Millons" (Mr Millons also
bowed, somewhat loosely); "and Rokens--Tim Rokens, my chief harpooner."
(Mr Rokens pulled his forelock, and threw back his left leg, apparently
to counterbalance the bend in his body.) "He didn't want to come; said
he warn't accustomed to ladies' society; but I told him you warn't
ladies--a--I don't mean that--not ladies o' the high-flyin' fashionable
sort, that give themselves airs, you know. Come along, Ailie."
While the captain ran on in this strain, hung up his hat, kissed Ailie,
and ran his fingers through his shaggy locks, the Misses Dunning
performed a mingled bow and courtsey to each guest as his name was
mentioned, and shook hands with him, after which the whole party entered
the parlour, where the cat was discovered enjoying a preliminary meal of
its own at one of the pats of butter. A united shriek from Martha
and Jane, a nautical howl from the guests, and a rolled-up
pocket-handkerchief from Rokens sent that animal from the table as if it
had received a galvanic shock.
"I ax yer parding, ladies," said Mr Rokens, whose aim had been so
perfect that his handkerchief not only accelerated the flight of the
cat, but carried away the violated pat of butter along with it. "I ax
yer parding, but them brutes is sich thieves--I could roast 'em alive,
so I could."
The harpooner unrolled his handkerchief, and picking the pat of butter
from its folds with his fingers, threw it into the fire. Thereafter he
smoothed down his hair, and seated himself on the extreme edge of a
chair, as near the door as possible. Not that he had any intention
whatever of taking to flight, but he deemed that position to be more
suited to his condition than any other.
In a few minutes the servant-girl returned with the eggs. While she is
engaged in boiling them, we shall introduce Captain Dunning's friends
and messmates to the reader.
Dr Hopley was a surgeon, and a particular friend of the captain's. He
was an American by birth, but had travelled so much about the world that
he had ceased to "guess" and "calculate," and to speak through his nose.
He was a man about forty, tall, big-boned, and muscular, though not
fat; and besides being a gentlemanly man, was a good-natured, quiet
creature, and a clever enough fellow besides, but he preferred to laugh
at and enjoy the jokes and witticisms of others rather than to
perpetrate any himself. Dr Hopley was intensely fond of travelling,
and being possessed of a small independence, he indulged his passion to
the utmost. He had agreed to go with Captain Dunning as the ship's
doctor, simply for the sake of seeing the whale-fishery of the South
Seas, having already, in a similar capacity, encountered the dangers of
the North.
Dr Hopley had few weaknesses. His chief one was an extravagant belief
in phrenology. We would not be understood to imply that phrenology is
extravagant; but we assert that the doctor's belief in it was
extravagant, assigning, as he did, to every real and ideal facility of
the human mind "a local habitation and a name" in the cranium, with a
corresponding depression or elevation of the surface to mark its
whereabouts. In other respects he was a commonplace sort of a man.
Mr Millons, the first mate, was a short, hale, thick-set man, without
any particularly strong points of character. He was about thirty-five,
and possessed a superabundance of fair hair and whiskers, with a large,
broad chin, a firm mouth, rather fierce-looking eyes, and a hasty, but
by no means a bad temper. He was a trustworthy, matter-of-fact seaman,
and a good officer, but not bright intellectually. Like most men of his
class, his look implied that he did not under-estimate his own
importance, and his tones were those of a man accustomed to command.
Tim Rokens was an old salt; a bluff, strong, cast-iron man, of about
forty-five years of age, who had been at sea since he was a little boy,
and would not have consented to live on dry land, though he had been
"offered command of a seaport town all to himself," as he was wont to
affirm emphatically. His visage was scarred and knotty, as if it had
been long used to being pelted by storms--as indeed it had. There was a
scar over his left eye and down his cheek, which had been caused by a
slash from the cutlass of a pirate in the China Seas; but although it
added to the rugged effect of his countenance, it did not detract from
the frank, kindly expression that invariably rested there. Tim Rokens
had never been caught out of temper in his life. Men were wont say he
had no temper to lose. Whether this was true or no, we cannot presume
to say, but certainly he never lost it. He was the best and boldest
harpooner in Captain Dunning's ship, and a sententious deliverer of his
private opinion on all occasions whatsoever. When we say that he wore a
rough blue pilot-cloth suit, and had a large black beard, with a
sprinkling of silver hairs in it, we have completed his portrait.
"What's come of Glynn?" inquired Captain Dunning, as he accepted a large
cup of smoking tea with one hand, and with the other handed a plate of
buttered toast to Dr Hopley, who sat next him.
"I really cannot imagine," replied Miss Martha.
"No, cannot imagine," whispered Miss Jane.
"He promised to come, and to be punctual," continued Miss Martha
("Punctual," whispered Miss J), "but something seems to have detained
him. Perhaps--"
Here Miss Martha was brought to an abrupt pause by observing that Mr
Rokens was about to commence to eat his egg with a teaspoon.
"Allow me, Mr Rokens," she said, handing that individual an ivory
eggspoon.
"Oh, cer'nly, ma'am. By all means," replied Rokens, taking the spoon
and handing it to Miss Jane, under the impression that it was intended
for her.
"I beg pardon, it is for yourself, Mr Rokens," said Martha and Jane
together.
"Thank'ee, ma'am," replied Rokens, growing red, as he began to perceive
he was a little "off his course" somehow. "I've no occasion for _two_,
an' this one suits me oncommon."
"Ah! you prefer big spoons to little ones, my man, don't you?" said
Captain Dunning, coming to the rescue. "Let him alone, Martha, he's
used to take care of himself. Doctor, can you tell me now, which is the
easiest of digestion--a hard egg or a soft one?"
Thus appealed to, Dr Hopley paused a moment and frowned at the teapot,
as though he were about to tax his brain to the utmost in the solution
of an abstruse question in medical science.
"Well now," he replied, stirring his tea gently, and speaking with much
deliberation, "that depends very much upon circumstances. Some
digestions can manage a hard egg best, others find a soft one more
tractable. And then the state of the stomach at the time of eating has
to be taken into account. I should say now, that my little friend
Ailie, here, to judge from the rosy colour of her cheeks, could manage
hard or soft eggs equally well; couldn't you, eh?"
Ailie laughed, as she replied, "I'm sure I don't know, Doctor Hopley;
but I _like_ soft ones best."
To this, Captain Dunning said, "Of course you do, my sensible little
pet;" although it would be difficult to show wherein lay the sensibility
of the preference, and then added--"There's Rokens, now; wouldn't you,
doctor--judging from his rosy, not to say purple cheeks--conclude that
he wasn't able to manage even two eggs of any kind?"
"Wot, _me_!" exclaimed Mr Rokens, looking up in surprise, as indeed he
well might, having just concluded his fourth, and being about to
commence his fifth egg, to the no small anxiety of Martha and Jane, into
whose limited and innocent minds the possibility of such a feat had
never entered. "Wot, _me_! Why, capting, if they was biled as hard as
the head of a marline-spike--"
The expanding grin on the captain's face, and a sudden laugh from the
mate, apprised the bold harpooner at this point of his reply that the
captain was jesting, so he felt a little confused, and sought relief by
devoting himself assiduously to egg Number 5.
It fared ill with Tim Rokens that evening that he had rashly entered
into ladies' society, for he was a nervous man in refined company,
though cool and firm as a grounded iceberg when in the society of his
messmates, or when towing with the speed of a steamboat in the wake of a
sperm-whale.
Egg Number 5 proved to be a bad one. Worse than that, egg Number 5
happened to belong to that peculiar class of bad eggs which "go off"
with a little crack when hit with a spoon, and sputter their unsavoury
contents around them. Thus it happened, that when Mr Rokens, feeling
confused, and seeking relief in attention to the business then in hand,
hit egg Number 5 a smart blow on the top, a large portion of its
contents spurted over the fair white tablecloth, a small portion fell on
Mr Rokens' vest, and a minute yellow globule thereof alighted on the
fair Martha's hand, eliciting from that lady a scream, and as a matter
of course, an echo from Jane in the shape of a screamlet.
Mr Rokens flushed a deep Indian-red, and his nose assumed a warm blue
colour instantly.
"Oh! ma'am, I ax yer parding."
"Pray don't mention it--a mere accident. I'm so sorry you have got a
bad--Oh!"
The little scream with which Miss Martha interrupted her remark was
caused by Mr Rokens (who had just observed the little yellow globule
above referred to) seizing her hand, and wiping away the speck with the
identical handkerchief that had floored the cat and swept away the pat
of butter. Immediately thereafter, feeling heated, he wiped the
perspiration from his forehead, and unwittingly transferred the spot
thereto in the form of a yellow streak, whereat Ailie and the first mate
burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Even Miss Martha smiled,
although she rather objected to jesting, as being a dangerous amusement,
and never laughed at the weaknesses or misfortunes of others, however
ludicrous they might be, when she could help it.
"How can you, brother?" she said, reproachfully, shaking her head at the
captain, who was winking at the doctor with one eye in a most
obstreperous manner. "Do try another egg, Mr Rokens; the others, I am
sure, are fresh. I cannot imagine how a bad one came to be amongst
them."
"Ah, try another, my lad," echoed the captain. "Pass 'em up this way,
Mr Millons."
"By no manner o' means; I'll eat this 'un!" replied the harpooner,
commencing to eat the bad egg with apparent relish. "I like 'em this
way--better than nothin', anyhow. Bless ye, marm, ye've no notion wot
sort o' things I've lived on aboard ship--"
Rokens came to an abrupt pause in consequence of the servant-girl, at a
sign from her mistresses (for she always received duplicate orders),
seizing his plate and carrying it off bodily. It was immediately
replaced by a clean one and a fresh egg. While Rokens somewhat
nervously tapped the head of Number 6, Miss Martha, in order to divert
attention from him, asked Mr Millons if sea-fare was always salt junk
and hard biscuit?
"Oh, no, madam," answered the first mate. "We've sometimes salt pork,
and vegetables now and agin; and pea-soup, and plum-duff--"
"Plum-duff, Ailie," interrupted the captain, in order to explain, "is
just a puddin' with few plums and fewer spices in it. Something like a
white-painted cannon-shot, with brown spots on it here and there."
"Is it good?" inquired Ailie.
"Oh, ain't it!" remarked Mr Rokens, who had just concluded Number 6,
and felt his self-possession somewhat restored. "Yes, miss, it is; but
it ain't equal to whale's-brain fritters, it ain't; them's first-chop."
"Have whales got brains?" inquired Miss Martha, in surprise.
"Brains!" echoed Miss Jane, in amazement.
"Yes, madam, they 'ave," answered the first mate, who had hitherto
maintained silence, but having finished tea was now ready for any amount
of talk; "and what's more remarkable still, they've got several barrels
of oil in their skulls besides."
"Dear me!" exclaimed the sisters.
"Yes, ladies, capital oil it is, too; fetches a 'igher price hin the
markit than the other sort."
"By the bye, Millons, didn't you once fall into a whale's skull, and get
nearly drowned in oil?" inquired the doctor.
"I did," answered the first mate, with the air of a man who regarded
such an event as a mere trifle, that, upon consideration, might almost
be considered as rather a pleasant incident than otherwise in one's
history.
"Nearly drowned in oil!" exclaimed the sisters, while Ailie opened her
eyes in amazement, and Mr Rokens became alarmingly purple in the face
with suppressed chuckling.
"It's true," remarked Rokens, in a hoarse whisper to Miss Martha,
putting his hand up to his mouth, the better to convey the sound to her
ears; "I seed him tumble in, and helped to haul him out."
"Let's have the story, Millons," cried the captain, pushing forward his
cup to be replenished; "It's so long since I heard it, that I've almost
forgotten it. Another cup o' tea, Martha, my dear--not quite so strong
as the last, and three times as sweet. I'll drink `Success to the cup
that cheers, but don't inebriate.' Go ahead, Millons."
Nothing rejoiced the heart of Mr Millons more than being asked to tell
a story. Like most men who are excessively addicted to the habit, his
stories were usually very long and very dry; but he had a bluff
good-natured way of telling them, that rendered his yarns endurable on
shore, and positively desirable at sea. Fortunately for the reader, the
story he was now requested to relate was not a long one.
"It ain't quite a _story_," he began--and in beginning he cleared his
throat with emphasis, thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his vest,
and tilted his chair on its hind-legs--"it ain't quite a story; it's a
hanecdote, a sort of hincident, so to speak, and this is 'ow it
'appened:--
"Many years ago, w'en I was a very young man, or a big boy, I was on a
voyage to the South Seas after whales. Tim Rokens was my messmate then,
and has bin so almost ever since, off, and on." (Mr Rokens nodded
assent to this statement.) "Well, we came up with a big whale, and fixed
an iron cleverly in him at the first throw--"
"An iron?" inquired Miss Martha, to whose mind flat and Italian irons
naturally occurred.
"Yes, madam, an iron; we call the 'arpoons irons. Well, away went the
fish, like all alive! not down, but straight for'ard, takin' out the
line at a rate that nearly set the boat on fire, and away we went along
with it. It _was_ a chase, that. For six hours, off and on, we stuck
to that whale, and pitched into 'im with 'arpoons and lances; but he
seemed to have the lives of a cat--nothin' would kill 'im. At last the
'arpooner gave him a thrust in the life, an' up went the blood and
water, and the fish went into the flurries, and came nigh capsizin' the
boat with its tail as it lashed the water into foam. At last it gave
in, and we had a four hours' pull after that, to tow the carcase to the
ship, for there wasn't a cat's-paw of wind on the water.
"W'en we came alongside, we got out the tackles, and before beginning to
flense (that means, ma'am, to strip off the blubber), we cut a hole in
the top o' the skull to get out the oil that was there; for you must
know that the sperm-whale has got a sort of 'ollow or big cavern in its
'ead, w'ich is full o' the best oil, quite pure, that don't need to be
cleared, but is all ready to be baled out and stowed away in casks.
Well, w'en the 'ole was cut in its skull I went down on my knees on the
edge of it to peep in, when my knees they slipped on the blubber, and in
I went 'ead-foremost, souse into the whale's skull, and began to swim
for life in the oil.
"Of course I began to roar for 'elp like a bull, and Rokens there, 'oo
'appened to be near, 'e let down the hend of a rope, but my 'ands was so
slippy with oil I couldn't ketch 'old of it; so 'e 'auls it up agin, and
lets down a rope with a 'ook at the hend, and I got 'old of this and
stuck it into the waistband o' my trousers, and gave the word, `'Eave
away, my 'earties;' and sure enough so they did, and pulled me out in a
trice. And that's 'ow it was; and I lost a suit o' clo's, for nothing
on 'arth would take the oil out, and I didn't need to use pomatum for
six months after."
"No more you did," cried Rokens, who had listened to the narrative with
suppressed delight; "no more you did. I never see sich a glazed rat as
you wos when you comed out o' that hole, in all my life; an' he wos jist
like a eel; it wos all we could do to keep 'old on 'im, marm, he was so
slippery."
While the captain was laughing at the incident, and Rokens was narrating
some of the minute details in the half-unwilling yet half-willing ears
of the sisters, the door opened, and a young man entered hastily and
apologised for being late.
"The fact is, Miss Dunning, had I not promised faithfully to come, I
should not have made my appearance at all to-night."
"Why, Glynn, what has kept you, lad?" interrupted the captain. "I
thought you were a man of your word."
"Ay, that's the question, capting," said Rokens, who evidently regarded
the new arrival with no favourable feelings; "it's always the way with
them _gentlemen_ sailors till they're got into blue water and brought to
their bearin's."
Mr Rokens had wisdom enough to give forth the last part of his speech
in a muttered tone, for the youth was evidently a favourite with the
captain, as was shown by the hearty manner in which he shook him by the
hand.
"Messmates, this is Glynn Proctor, a friend o' mine," said Captain
Dunning, in explanation: "he is going with us this voyage _before_ the
mast, so you'll have to make the most of him as an equal to-night, for I
intend to keep him in his proper place when afloat. He chooses to go as
an ordinary seaman, against my advice, the scamp; so I'll make him keep
his head as low as the rest when aboard. You'll to keep your time
better, too, than you have done to-night, lad," continued the captain,
giving his young friend a slap on the shoulder. "What has detained you,
eh?"
"Necessity, captain," replied the youth, with a smile, as he sat down to
table with an off-hand easy air that savoured of recklessness; "and I am
prepared to state, upon oath if need be, that necessity is not `the
mother of invention.' If she had been, she would have enabled me to
invent a way of escape from my persecutors in time to keep my promise to
Miss Dunning."
"Persecutors, Glynn!" exclaimed Martha; "to whom do you refer?"
"To the police of this good city."
"Police!" echoed the captain, regarding his young friend seriously,
while the doctor and the first mate and Tim Rokens listened in some
surprise.
"Why, the fact is," said Glynn, "that I have just escaped from the hands
of the police, and if it had not been that I was obliged to make a very
wide detour, in order to reach this house without being observed, I
should have been here long ago."
"Boy, boy, your hasty disposition will bring you into serious trouble
one of these days," said the captain, shaking his head. "What mischief
have you been about?"
"Ay, there you go--it's my usual fate," cried Glynn, laughing. "If I
chance to get into a scrape, you never think of inquiring whether it was
my fault or my misfortune. This time, however, it _was_ my misfortune,
and if Miss Dunning will oblige me with a cup of tea, I'll explain how
it happened.
"Little more than two hours ago I left the ship to come here to tea, as
I had promised to do. Nikel Sling, the long-legged cook you engaged
this morning, went ashore with me. As we walked up the street together,
I observed a big porter passing along with a heavy deal plank on his
shoulder. The street was somewhat narrow and crowded at that part, and
Sling had turned to look in at a shop-window just as the big fellow came
up. The man shouted to my shipmate to get out o' the way, but the noise
in the street prevented him from hearing. Before I could turn to touch
the cook's arm, the fellow uttered an oath and ran the end of the plank
against his head. Poor Sling was down in an instant. Before I well
knew what I was about, I hit the porter between the eyes and down he
went with a clatter, and the plank above him. In a moment three
policemen had me by the collar. I tried to explain, but they wouldn't
listen. As I was being hurried away to the lock-up, it flashed across
me that I should not only lose my tea and your pleasant society this
evening, but be prevented from sailing to-morrow, so I gave a sudden
twist, tripped up the man on my left, overturned the one on my right,
and bolted."
"They ran well, the rascals, and shouted like maniacs, but I got the
start of 'em, dived down one street, up another, into a by-lane, over a
back-garden wall, in at the back-door of a house and out at the front,
took a round of two or three miles, and came in here from the west; and
whatever other objections there may be to the whole proceeding, I cannot
say that it has spoiled my appetite."
"And so, sir," said Captain Dunning, "you call this your `misfortune?'"
"Surely, captain," said Glynn, putting down his cup and looking up in
some surprise--"surely, you cannot blame me for punishing the rascal who
behaved so brutally, without the slightest provocation, to my shipmate!"
"Hear, hear!" cried Rokens involuntarily.
"I do blame you, lad," replied the captain seriously. "In the first
place, you had no right to take the law into your own hands. In the
second place, your knocking down the man did no good whatever to your
shipmate; and in the third place, you've got yourself and me and the
ship into a very unsatisfactory scrape."
Rokens' face, which had hitherto expressed approval of Glynn's conduct,
began to elongate as the captain went on in this strain; and the youth's
recklessness of manner altogether disappeared as inquired, "How so,
captain? I have escaped, as you see; and poor Sling, of course, was not
to blame, so he'll be all safe aboard, and well, I hope, by this time."
"There you're mistaken, boy. They will have secured Sling and made him
tell the name of his ship, and also the name of his pugnacious comrade."
"And do you think he'd be so mean as to tell?" asked Glynn indignantly.
"You forget that the _first_ act in this nice little melodrama was the
knocking down of Sling, so that he could not know what happened after,
and the police would not be so soft as to tell him _why_ they wanted
such information until after they had got it."
Poor Glynn looked aghast, and Rokens was overwhelmed.
"It seems to me, I'd better go and see about this," said Millons, rising
and buttoning his coat with the air of a man who had business to
transact and meant to transact it.
"Right, Millons," answered the captain. "I'm sorry to break up our
evening so soon, but we must get this man aboard by hook or crook as
speedily as possible. You had better go too, doctor. Rokens and I will
take care of this young scamp, who must be made a nigger of in order to
be got on board, for his face, once seen by these sharp limbs of
justice, is not likely soon to be forgotten."
Glynn Proctor was indeed a youth whose personal appearance was
calculated to make a lasting impression on most people. He was about
eighteen years of age, but a strong, well-developed muscular frame, a
firm mouth, a large chin, and an eagle eye, gave him the appearance of
being much older. He was above the middle height, but not tall, and the
great breadth of his shoulders and depth of his chest made him appear
shorter than he really was. His hair was of that beautiful hue called
nut-brown, and curled close round his well-shaped head. He was a model
of strength and activity.
Glynn Proctor had many faults. He was hasty and reckless. He was
unsteady, too, and preferred a roving idle life to a busy one; but he
had redeeming qualities. He was bold and generous. Above all, he was
unselfish, and therefore speedily became a favourite with all who knew
him. Glynn's history is briefly told. He was an Englishman. His
father and mother had died when he was a child, and left him in charge
of an uncle, who emigrated to America shortly after his brother's death.
The uncle was a good man, after a fashion, but he was austere and
unlovable. Glynn didn't like him; so when he attained the age of
thirteen, he quietly told him that he meant to bid him good-bye, and go
seek his fortune in the world. The uncle as quietly told Glynn that he
was quite right, and the sooner he went the better. So Glynn went, and
never saw his uncle again, for the old man died while he was abroad.
Glynn travelled far and encountered many vicissitudes of fortune in his
early wanderings; but he was never long without occupation, because men
liked his looks, and took him on trial without much persuasion. To say
truth, Glynn never took the trouble to persuade them. When his services
were declined, he was wont to turn on his heel and walk away without a
word of reply; and not unfrequently he was called back and employed. He
could turn his hand to almost anything, but when he tired of it, he
threw it up and sought other work elsewhere.
In the course of his peregrinations, he came to reside in the city in
which our story finds him. Here he had become a compositor in the
office of a daily newspaper, and, happening to be introduced to the
Misses Dunning, soon became a favourite with them, and a constant
visitor at their house. Thus he became acquainted with their brother.
Becoming disgusted with the constant work and late hours of the
printing-office, he resolved to join Captain Dunning's ship, and take a
voyage to southern seas as an ordinary seaman. Glynn and little Alice
Dunning were great friends, and it was a matter of extreme delight to
both of them that they were to sail together on this their first voyage.
Having been made a nigger of--that is, having had his face and hands
blackened in order to avoid detection--Glynn sallied forth with the
captain and Rokens to return to their ship, the _Red Eric_, which lay in
the harbour, not ten minutes' walk from the house.
They passed the police on the wharf without creating suspicion, and
reached the vessel.