This plan of action was almost repulsive to me, but I felt that it
offered an opportunity which I should not neglect. I would certainly
learn about Bertha if I saw him, and whether it would be anything good
or anything bad I ought to know it.
In making my inquiries the cabman was of much assistance to me. And
after having been referred from one person to another, I at last found
a man, first mate of a vessel in the docks, who knew Captain Chesters,
and could tell me all about him.
"Yes, sir," said he, "I can tell you where to find Captain Chesters.
He's on shore, for he doesn't command the _Glanford_ now, and as far as
I know he hasn't signed articles yet either as skipper or mate in any
other craft. The fact is, he's engaged in business, which I suppose he
thinks better than sailing the sea. He was married about a month ago.
It's only two or three days since he's got back from a little land trip
they took on the Continent. I saw him yesterday; he's the happiest man
alive. But it's as like as not that he's ready for business now that
he's got through with his honeymoon, and if it's a skipper you're
looking for you can't find a better man than Captain Guy, not about
these docks."
I stood and looked at the man without seeing him, and then in a hollow
voice asked: "Where does he live?"
"A hundred and nine Lisbury Street, Calistoy Road, East. Now that I've
told you, I wish I hadn't. You look as though you were going to measure
him for a coffin."
"Thank you," said I, and walked away.
I told the cabman to drive me to the address I had received, and in due
time we arrived in front of a very good-looking house, in a quiet and
respectable street.
I was in a peculiar state of mind. I had half expected the terrible
shock, and I had received it. But I had not been stunned; I had been
roused to an unusual condition of mental activity. My senses were
sharpened by the torment of my soul, and I observed everything,--the
quarter of the city, the street, the house.
The woman who opened the door started a little when she saw me. I asked
for Mrs. Captain Chesters, and walked in without waiting to be told
whether the lady was in or not. The woman showed me into a little
parlor, and left me. Her manner plainly indicated that she suspected
something was the matter with me.
In a very short time a tall, well-made man, with curly brown hair, a
handsome, sun-browned face, and that fine presence which command at sea
frequently gives, entered the room.
"I understand, sir," said he, "that you asked for my wife, but I
thought it better to come to you myself. What is your business with
her, sir, and what is your name?"
"My name is Charles Rockwell," I said, "and my business is to see her.
If she has already forgotten my name, you can tell her that I kept
company with her for a while on the Atlantic Ocean, when she was in one
wreck and I was in another."
"Good heavens!" cried the young sailor; "do you mean to say that you
are the man who was on the derelict _Sparhawk_? And were you picked up
by Captain Stearns, whom I sent after you? I supposed he would have
written to me about you."
"I came faster than a letter would come," I answered. "Can I see her?"
"Of course you can!" cried Captain Guy. "I never knew a man so talked
about as you have been since I fell in with the wreck of that French
steamer! By George! sir, there was a time when I was dead jealous of
you. But I'm married tight and fast now, and that sort of thing is done
with. Of course you shall see her."
He left the room, and presently I heard the sound of running footsteps.
The door was opened, and Mary Phillips entered, closely followed by the
captain. I started back; I shouted as if I had a speaking-trumpet to
my mouth:--
"What!" I cried; "is this your wife?"
"Yes," said Captain Guy, stepping forward, "of course she is. Why not?"
I made no answer, but with open arms I rushed upon Mary Phillips and
folded her in a wild embrace. I heard a burst of nautical oaths, and
probably would have been felled by a nautical fist, had not Mary
screamed to her husband:--
"Stop, Guy!" she cried; "I understand him. It's all right. He's so glad
to see me."
I released her from my embrace, and, staggering back, sank upon a
chair.
"Go get him a glass of sherry, Guy," she said, and wheeling up a great
easy-chair, she told me to sit in it, for I looked dreadfully tired. I
took the chair, and when the wine was brought I drank it.
"Where is Miss Nugent?" I asked.
"Miss Nugent is all right," said Mary Phillips, "but I'm not going to
tell you a word about her or anything else until you've had some
breakfast. I know you have not tasted food this day."
I admitted that I had not. I would eat, I would do anything, so that
afterward she would tell me about Bertha.
When I had a cup of coffee and some toast which Mary brought to me upon
a tray, I arose from my chair.
"Now tell me quickly," I said, "where is Bertha?"
"Not a bit of it," said Mary Phillips--I call her so, for I shall never
know her by any other name.
"Sit down again, Mr. Rockwell, and eat these two eggs. When you have
done that I will talk to you about her. You needn't be in a hurry to go
to see her, because in the house where she is the people are not up
yet."
"Might as well sit down and eat," said the captain, laughing. "When
you're under command of this skipper you will find that her orders are
orders, and the quicker you step up and obey them, the better. So I
would advise you to eat your eggs."
I began to do so, and Captain Guy laughed a mighty laugh. "She's a
little thing," he said, "but she does know how to make men stand about.
I didn't believe there was a person in this world who could have kept
my hands off you when I saw you hugging my wife. But she did it, and I
tell you, sir, I was never worse cut up in my whole life than I was
when I saw you do that."
"Sir," said I, looking at him steadfastly, "if I have caused you any
pain, any misery, any torment of the soul, any anguish of heart, any
agony of jealousy, or mental torture of any kind, I am heartily glad of
it, for all of these things you have brought on me."
"Good!" cried Mary Phillips; "you must be feeling better, sir, and
when you have entirely finished breakfast we will go on and talk."
In a few moments I pushed away the tray, and Mary, looking at it,
declared herself satisfied, and placed it on a side table.
"So you really supposed, sir," she said, sitting near me, "that Captain
Chesters married Miss Nugent?"
"I certainly did," I answered.
"No doubt, thinking," said Mary, with a smile, "that no man in his
senses would marry anybody else when Miss Nugent was about, which was a
very proper opinion, of course, considering your state of mind."
"And let me say, sir," said Captain Guy, "if I had married Miss Nugent,
more people than you would have been dissatisfied. I would have been
one of them, and I am sure Miss Nugent would have been another."
"Count me as one of that party," said Mary Phillips. "And now, Mr.
Rockwell, you shall not be kept waiting a moment longer."
"Of course she is safe and well," I said, "or you would not be
here, and before you say anything more about her, please tell me what
you meant by that terrible word 'but.'"
"But?" repeated Mary Phillips, with a puzzled expression. And Captain
Guy echoed, "But? What but?"
"It was the last word I heard from you," said I; "you shouted it to me
when your vessel was going away for the last time. It has caused me a
world of misery. It may have been followed by other words, but I did
not catch them. I asked you if you had told her that I loved her, and
you answered, 'Yes, but--'"
Captain Guy slapped his leg, "By George!" he said; "that was enough to
put a man on the rack. Mary, you should have told him more than that."
Mary Phillips wrinkled her forehead and gazed steadfastly into her lap.
Suddenly she looked up.
"I remember it," she said; "I remember exactly what I answered or tried
to answer. I said, 'Yes, but she knew it before.'"