III.

The dwellings in Ship Street, Tower Hill, may be regarded as desirable

residences by the young merchant-seamen whose vessels are lying in the

neighbouring clocks, but they certainly do not possess much attraction

for the general eye.

Seated in Edward Pym's parlour, the features of the room gradually

impressed themselves upon my mind, and they remain there still. They

would have remained, I think, without the dreadful tragedy that was so

soon to take place in it. It was weary work waiting. Captain Tanerton,

tired with his long and busy day, was nodding asleep in the opposite

chair, and I had nothing to do but look about me.

It was a small room, rather shabby, the paper of a greenish cast, the

faded carpet originally red: and the bedroom behind, as much as could

be seen of it through the half-open door, looked smaller and poorer.

The chairs were horsehair, the small table in the middle had a purple

cloth on it, on which stood the lamp, that the landlady had just

lighted. A carved ivory ornament, representing a procession of

priests and singers, probably a present to Mrs. Richenough from some

merchant-captain, stood under a glass shade on a bracket against the

wall; the mantelpiece was garnished with a looking-glass and some

china shepherds and shepherdesses. A monkey-jacket of Pym's lay

across the back of a chair; some books and his small desk were on the

chiffonier. In the rooms above, as we learnt later, lodged a friend of

Pym's, one Alfred Saxby, who was looking out for a third mate's berth.

At last Pym came in. Uncommonly surprised he seemed to see us sitting

there, but not at all put out: he thought the captain had come down on

some business connected with the ship. Jack quietly opened the ball;

saying what he had to say.

"Yes, sir. I do know where Miss Verena Fontaine is, but I decline to

say," was Pym's answer when he had listened.

"No, sir, nothing will induce me to say," he added to further

remonstrance, "and you cannot compel me. I am under your authority at

sea, Captain Tanerton, but I am not on shore--and not at all in regard

to my private affairs. Miss Verena Fontaine is under the protection of

friends, and that is quite enough."

Enough or not enough, this was the utmost we could get from him. His

captain talked, and he talked, each of them in a civilly-cold way; but

nothing more satisfactory came of it. Pym wound up by saying the young

lady was his cousin, and he could take care of her without being

interfered with.

"Do you trust him, Johnny Ludlow?" asked Jack, as we came away.

"I don't trust him on the whole; not a bit of it. But he seems to speak

truth in saying she is with friends."

And, as the days went on, bringing no tidings of Verena, Sir Dace

Fontaine grew angry as a raging tiger.

When a ship is going out of dock, she is more coquettish than a beauty

in her teens. Not in herself, but in her movements. Advertised to sail

to-day, you will be told she'll not start until to-morrow; and when

to-morrow comes the departure will be put off until the next day,

perhaps to the next week.

Thus it was with the _Rose of Delhi_. From some uncompromising

exigencies, whether connected with the cargo, the crew, the brokers, or

any other of the unknown mysteries pertaining to ships, the day that

was to have witnessed her departure--Thursday--did not witness it. The

brokers, Freeman and Co., let it transpire on board that she would go

out of dock the next morning. About mid-day Captain Tanerton presented

himself at their office in Eastcheap.

"I shall not sail to-morrow--with your permission," said he to Mr. James

Freeman.

"Yes, you will--if she's ready," returned the broker. "Gould says she

will be."

"Gould may think so; I do not. But, whether she be ready or not, Mr.

Freeman, I don't intend to take her out to-morrow."

The words might be decisive words, but the captain's tone was genial

as he spoke them, and his frank, pleasant smile sat on his face. Mr.

Freeman looked at him. They valued Captain Tanerton as they perhaps

valued no other master in their employ, these brothers Freeman; but

James had a temper that was especially happy in contradiction.

"I suppose you'd like to say that you won't go out on a Friday!"

"That's just it," said Jack.

"You are superstitious, Captain Tanerton," mocked the broker.

"I am not," answered Jack. "But I sail with those who are. Sailors

are more foolish on this point than you can imagine: and I believe--I

believe in my conscience--that ships, sailing on a Friday, have come to

grief through their crew losing heart. No matter what impediment is met

with--bad weather, accidents, what not--the men say at once it's of no

use, we sailed on a Friday. They lose their spirit, and their energy

with it; and I say, Mr. Freeman, that vessels have been lost through

this, which might have otherwise been saved. I will not go out of dock

to-morrow; and I refuse to do it in your interest as much as in my own."

"Oh, bother," was all James Freeman rejoined. "You'll have to go if

she's ready."

But the words made an impression. James Freeman knew what sailors were

nearly as well as Jack knew: and he could not help recalling to memory

that beautiful ship of Freeman Brothers, the _Lily of Japan_. The _Lily_

had been lost only six months ago; and those of her crew, who were

saved, religiously stuck to it that the calamity was brought about

through having sailed on a Friday.

The present question did not come to an issue. For, on the Friday

morning, the _Rose of Delhi_ was not ready for sea; would not be ready

that day. On the Saturday morning she was not ready either; and it

was finally decided that Monday should be the day of departure. On

the Saturday afternoon Captain Tanerton ran down to Timberdale for

four-and-twenty hours; Squire Todhetley, his visit to London over,

travelling down by the same train.

Verena Fontaine had not yet turned up, and Sir Dace was nearly crazy.

Not only was he angry at being thwarted, but one absorbing, special

fear lay upon him--that she would come back a married woman. Pym was

capable of any sin, he told the Squire and Coralie, even of buying the

wedding-ring; and Verena was capable of letting it be put on her finger.

"No, papa," dissented Coralie in her equable manner, "Vera is too fond

of money and of the good things money buys, to risk the loss of the best

part of her fortune. She will not marry Pym until she is of age; be sure

of that. When he has sailed she will come home safe and sound, and tell

us where she has been."

Captain Tanerton went down, I say, to Timberdale. He stayed at the

Rectory with his wife and brother until the Sunday afternoon, and then

returned to London. The _Rose of Delhi_ was positively going out on

Monday, so he had to be back--and, I may as well say here, that Jack,

good-natured Jack, had invited me to go in her as far as Gravesend.

During that brief stay at Timberdale, Jack was not in his usual spirits.

His wife, Alice, noticed it, and asked him whether anything was the

matter. Not anything whatever, Jack readily answered. In truth there was

not. At least, anything he could talk of. A weight lay on his spirits,

and he could not account for it. The strong instinct, which had seemed

to warn him against sailing with Pym again, had gradually left him since

he knew that Pym was to sail, whether or not. In striving to make

the best of it, he had thrown off the feeling: and the unaccountable

depression that weighed him down could not arise from that cause. It was

a strange thing altogether, this; one that never, in all his life, had

he had any experience of; but it was not less strange than true.

* * * * *

_Monday._--The _Rose of Delhi_ lay in her place in the freshness of the

sunny morning, making ready to go out of dock with the incoming tide. I

went on board betimes: and I thought I had never been in such a bustling

scene before. The sailors knew what they were about. I conclude, but to

me it seemed all confusion. The captain I could not see anywhere; but

his chief officer, Pym, seemed to be more busy than a certain common

enemy of ours is said to be in a gale of wind.

"Is the captain not on board?" I asked of Mark Ferrar, as he was

whisking past me on deck.

"Oh no, sir; not yet. The captain will not come on board till the last

moment--if he does then."

The words took me by surprise. "What do you mean, by saying 'If he does

then'?"

"He has so much to do, sir; he is at the office now, signing the bills

of lading. If he can't get done in time he will join at Gravesend when

we take on some passengers. The captain is not wanted on board when we

are going out of dock, Mr. Johnny," added Ferrar, seeing my perplexed

look. "The river-pilot takes the ship out."

He pointed to the latter personage, just then making his appearance on

deck. I wondered whether all river-pilots were like him. He was broad

enough to make two ordinarily stout people; and his voice, from long

continuous shouting, had become nothing less than a raven's croak.

At the last moment, when the ship was getting away, and I had given the

captain up, he came on board. How glad I was to see his handsome, kindly

face!

"I've had a squeak for it, Johnny," he laughed, as he shook my hand:

"but I meant to go down with you if I could."

Then came all the noise and stir of getting away: the croaking of the

pilot alone distinguishable to my uninitiated ears. "Slack away the

stern-line"--he called it starn. "Haul in head-rope." "Here, carpenter,

bear a hand, get the cork-fender over the quarter-gallery." "What are

you doing aft there?--why don't you slack away that stern-line?" Every

other moment it seemed to me that we were going to pitch into the craft

in the pool, or they into us. However, we got on without mishap.

Captain Tanerton was crossing the ship, after holding a confab with the

pilot, when a young man, whom he did not recognize, stepped aside out

of his way, and touched his cap. The captain looked surprised, for the

badge on the cap was the one worn by his own officers.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Mr. Saxby, if you please, sir."

"Mr. Saxby! What do you do here?"

"Third mate, if you please, sir," repeated the young man. "Your third

mate, Mr. Jones, met with an accident yesterday; he broke his leg; and

my friend, Pym, spoke of me to Mr. Gould."

Captain Tanerton was not only surprised, but vexed. First, for the

accident to Jones, who was a very decent young fellow; next, at his

being superseded by a stranger, and a friend of Pym's. He put a few

questions, found the new man's papers were in order, and so made the

best of it.

"You will find me a good and considerate master, Mr. Saxby, if you do

your duty with a will," he said in a kind tone.

"I hope I shall, sir; I'll try to," answered the young man.

On we went swimmingly, in the wake of the tug-boat; but this desirable

tranquillity was ere long destined to be marred.

On coming up from the state-room, as they called it, after regaling

ourselves on a cold collation, the captain was pointing out to me

something on shore, when one of the crew approached hastily, and touched

his cap. I found it was the carpenter: a steady-looking man, who was

fresh to the ship, having joined her half-an-hour before starting.

"Beg pardon, sir," he began. "Might I ask you when this ship was pumped

out last?"

"Why, she is never pumped out," replied the captain.

"Well, sir," returned the man, "it came into my head just now to sound

her, and I find there's two feet of water in the hold."

"Nonsense," said Jack: "you must be mistaken. Why, she has never made a

cupful of water since she was built. We have to put water in her to keep

her sweet."

"Any way, sir, there's two feet o' water in her now."

The captain looked at the man steadily for a moment, and then thought

it might be as well to verify the assertion--or the contrary--himself,

being a practical man. Taking the sounding-rod from the carpenter's

hand, he wiped it dry with an old bag lying near, and then proceeded to

sound the well. Quite true: there were two feet of water. No time lost

he. Ordering the carpenter to rig the pumps, he called all hands to man

them.

For a quarter-of-an-hour, or twenty minutes, the pumps were worked

without intermission; then the captain sounded, as before, doing it

himself. There was no diminution of water--it stood at the same level as

before pumping. Upon that, he and the carpenter went down into the hold,

to listen along the ship's sides, and discover, if they could, where

the water was coming in. Five minutes later, Jack was on deck again, his

face grave.

"It is coming in abreast of the main hatchway on the starboard side; we

can hear it distinctly," he said to the pilot. "I must order the ship

back again: I think it right to do so." And the broad pilot, who seemed

a very taciturn pilot, made no demur to this, except a grunt. So the

tug-boat was ordered to turn round and tow us back again.

"Where's Mr. Pym?" cried the captain. "Mr. Pym!"

"Mr. Pym's in the cabin, sir," said the steward, who chanced to be

passing.

"In the cabin!" echoed Jack, in an accent that seemed to imply the

cabin was not Mr. Pym's proper place just then. "Send him to me, if

you please, steward."

"Yes, sir," replied the steward. But he did not obey with the readiness

exacted on board ship. He hesitated, as if wanting to say something

before turning away.

No Pym came. Jack grew impatient, and called out an order or two. Young

Saxby came up, touching his cap, according to rule.

"Do you want me, sir?"

"I want Mr. Pym. He is below. Ask him to come to me instantly."

It brought forth Pym. Jack's head was turned away for a moment, and I

saw what he did not. That Pym had a fiery face, and walked as if his

limbs were slipping from under him.

"Oh, you are here at last, Mr. Pym--did you not receive my first

message?" cried Jack, turning round. "The cargo must be broken out to

find the place of leakage. See about it smartly: there's no time to

waste."

Pym had caught hold of something at hand to enable him to stand steady.

He had lost his wits, that was certain; for he stuttered out an answer

to the effect that the cargo might be--hanged.

The captain saw his state then. Feeling a need of renovation possibly,

after his morning's exertions, Mr. Pym had been making free, a great

deal too much so, with the bottled ale below, and had finished up with

brandy-and-water.

The cargo might be hanged!

Captain Tanerton, his brow darkening, spoke a sharp, short, stern

reprimand, and ordered Mr. Pym to his cabin.

What could have possessed Pym unless it might be the spirit that was in

the brandy, nobody knew. He refused to obey, broke into open defiance,

and gave Captain Tanerton sauce to his face.

"Take him below," said the captain quietly, to those who were standing

round. "Mr. Ferrar, you will lock Mr. Pym's cabin-door, if you please,

and bring me the key."

This was done, and Mr. Pym encaged. He kicked at his cabin-door, and

shook it; but he could not escape: he was a prisoner. He swore for a

little while at the top of his voice; then he commenced some uproarious

singing, and finally fell on his bed and went to sleep.

Hands were set to work to break out the cargo, which they piled on deck;

and the source of the leakage was discovered. It seemed a slight thing,

after all, to have caused so much commotion--nothing but an old treenail

that had not been properly plugged-up. I said so to Ferrar.

"Ah, Mr. Johnny," was Ferrar's answering remark, his face and tone

strangely serious, "slight as it may seem to you, it might have sunk us

all this night, had we chanced to anchor off Gravesend."

* * * * *

What with the pumps, that were kept at work, and the shifting of the

cargo, and the hammering they made in stopping up the leak, we had

enough to do this time. And about half-past three o'clock in the

afternoon the brave ship, which had gone out so proudly with the tide,

got back ignominiously with the end of it, and came to an anchor outside

the graving-dock, there not being sufficient water to allow of her

entering it. The damage was already three-parts repaired, and the ship

would make her final start on the morrow.

"'Twas nothing but a good Providence could have put it into my head to

sound the ship, sir," remarked the carpenter, wiping his hot face, as he

came on deck for something or other he needed. "But for that, we might

none of us have seen the morning's sun."

Jack nodded. These special interpositions of God's good care are not

rare, though we do not always recognize them. And yet, but for that

return back, the miserable calamity so soon to fall, would not have had

the chance to take place.

Captain Tanerton caused himself to be rowed ashore, first of all

ordering the door of his prisoner to be unfastened. I got into the

waterman's wherry with him, for I had nothing to stay on board for. And

a fine ending it was to my day's pleasuring!

"Never mind, Johnny," he said, as we parted. "You can come with us again

to-morrow, and I hope we shall have a more lucky start."

Captain Tanerton went straight to the brokers', saw Mr. James Freeman,

and told him he would _not_ take out Edward Pym. If he did, the man's

fate would probably be that of irons from Gravesend to Calcutta.

And James Freeman, a thorough foe to brandy-and-water when taken at

wrong times, listened to reason, and gave not a word of dissent. He

there and then made Ferrar chief mate, and put another one second in

Ferrar's place; a likely young man in their employ who was waiting

for a berth. This perfectly satisfied Captain Tanerton, under the

circumstances.

The captain was then rowed back to his ship. By that time it was five

o'clock. He told Ferrar of the change; who thanked him heartily, a glow

of satisfaction rising to his honest face.

"Where's Pym?" asked the captain. "He must take his things out of the

ship."

"Pym is not on board, sir. Soon after you left, he came up and went

ashore: he seemed to have pretty nearly slept off the drink. Sir Dace

Fontaine is below," added Ferrar, dropping his voice.

"Sir Dace Fontaine! Does he want me?"

"He wanted Mr. Pym, sir. He has been looking into every part of the

ship: he is looking still. He fancies his daughter is concealed on

board."

"Oh, nonsense!" cried the captain; "he can't fancy that. As if Miss

Fontaine would come down here--and board ships!"

"She was on board yesterday, sir."

"What!" cried the captain.

"Mr. Pym brought her on board yesterday afternoon, sir," continued

Ferrar, his voice as low as it could well go. "He was showing her about

the ship."

"How do you know this, Mr. Ferrar?"

"I was here, sir. Expecting to sail last week, I sent my traps on board.

Yesterday, wanting a memorandum-book out of my desk, I came down for it.

That's how I saw them."

Captain Tanerton, walking forward to meet Sir Dace, knitted his brow.

Was Mr. Pym drawing the careless, light-headed girl into mischief? Sir

Dace evidently thought so.

"I tell you, Captain Tanerton, she is quite likely to be on board,

concealed as a stow-away," persisted Sir Dace, in answer to the

captain's assurance that Verena was not, and could not be in the ship.

"When you are safe away from land, she will come out of hiding and they

will declare their marriage. That they are married, is only too likely.

He brought her on board yesterday afternoon when the ship was lying in

St. Katharine's Dock."

"Do you know that he did?" cried Jack, wondering whence Sir Dace got his

information.

"I am told so. As I got up your ladder just now I inquired of the first

man I saw, whether a young lady was on board. He said no, but that a

young lady had come on board with Mr. Pym yesterday afternoon to see the

ship. The man was your ship-keeper in dock."

"How did you hear we had got back to-day, Sir Dace?"

"I came down this afternoon to search the ship before she sailed--I was

under a misapprehension as to the time of her going out. The first thing

I heard was, that the _Rose of Delhi_ had gone and had come back again.

Pym is capable, I say, of taking Verena out."

"You may be easy on this point, Sir Dace," returned Jack. "Pym does not

go out in the ship: he is superseded." And he gave the heads of what had

occurred.

It did not tend to please Sir Dace. Edward Pym on the high seas would

be a less formidable adversary than Edward Pym on land: and perhaps in

his heart of hearts Sir Dace did not really believe his daughter would

become a stow-away.

"Won't you help me to find her? to _save_ her?" gasped Sir Dace, in

pitiful entreaty. "With this change--Pym not going out--I know not what

trouble he may not draw her into. Coralie says Verena is not married;

but I--Heaven help me! I know not what to think. I must find Pym this

night and watch his movements, and find her if I can. You must help me."

"I will help you," said warm-hearted Jack--and he clasped hands upon it.

"I will undertake to find Pym. And, that your daughter is not on board,

Sir Dace, I pass you my word."

Sir Dace stepped into the wherry again, to be rowed ashore and get home

to his dinner--ordered that evening for six o'clock. In a short while

Jack also quitted the ship, and went to Pym's lodgings in Ship Street.

Pym was not there.

Mr. Pym had come in that afternoon, said his landlady, Mrs. Richenough,

and startled her out of her seven senses; for, knowing the ship had left

with the day's tide, she had supposed Mr. Pym to be then off Gravesend,

or thereabouts. He told her the ship had sprung a leak and put back

again. Mr. Pym had gone out, she added, after drinking a potful of

strong tea.

"To sober him," thought the captain. "Do you expect him back to sleep,

Mrs. Richenough?"

"Yes, I do, sir. I took the sheets off his bed this morning, and I've

just been and put 'em on again. Mr. Saxby's must be put on too, for he

looked in to say he should sleep here."

Where to search for Pym, Jack did not know. Possibly he might have gone

back to the ship to offer an apology, now that he was sobered. Jack was

bending his steps towards it when he met Ferrar: who told him Pym had

not gone back.

Jack put on his considering-cap. He hardly knew what to do, or how to

find the fugitives: with Sir Dace, he deemed it highly necessary that

Verena should be found.

"Have you anything particular to do to-night, Mr. Ferrar?" he suddenly

asked. And Ferrar said he had not.

"Then," continued the captain, "I wish you would search for Pym."

And, knowing Ferrar was thoroughly trustworthy, he whispered a few

confidential words of Sir Dace Fontaine's fear and trouble. "I am going

to look for him myself," added Jack, "though I'm sure I don't know in

what quarter. If you do come across him, keep him within view. You can

tell him also that his place on the _Rose of Delhi_ is filled up, and he

must take his things out of her."

* * * * *

Altogether that had been a somewhat momentous day for Mr. Alfred

Saxby--and its events for him were not over yet. He had been appointed

to a good ship, and the ship had made a false start, and was back again.

An uncle and aunt of his lived at Clapham, and he thought he could not

do better than go down there and regale them with the news: we all

naturally burn to impart marvels to the world, you know. However, when

he reached his relatives' residence, he found they were out; and not

long after nine o'clock he was back at Mrs. Richenough's.

"Is Mr. Pym in?" he asked of the landlady; who came forward rubbing her

eyes as though she were sleepy, and gave him his candle.

"Oh, he have been in some little time, sir. And a fine row he's been

having with his skipper," added Mrs. Richenough, who sometimes came off

the high ropes of politeness when she had disposed of her supper beer.

"A row, has he!" returned Saxby. "Does not like to have been

superseded," he added to himself. "I must say Pym was a fool to-day--to

go and drink, as he did, and to sauce the master."

"Screeching out at one another like mad, they've been," pursued Mrs.

Richenough. "He do talk stern, that skipper, for a young man and a

good-looking one."

"Is the captain in there now?"

"For all I know. I did think I heard the door shut, but it might have

been my fancy. Good-night, sir. Pleasant dreams."

Leaving the candle in Saxby's hands, she returned to her kitchen, which

was built out at the back. He halted at the parlour-door to listen. No

voices were to be heard then; no sounds.

"Pym may have gone to bed--I dare say his head aches," thought Saxby:

and he opened the door to see whether the parlour was empty.

Why! what was it?--what was the matter? The young man took one startled

look around and then put down the candle, his heart leaping into his

mouth.

The lamp on the table threw its bright light on the little room. Some

scuffle appeared to have taken place in it. A chair was overturned; the

ivory ornament with its glass shade had been swept from its stand to the

floor: and by its side lay Edward Pym--dead.

Mr. Alfred Saxby, third mate of that good ship, the _Rose of Delhi_,

might be a sufficiently self-possessed individual when encountering

sudden surprises at sea; but he certainly did not show himself to be so

on shore. When the state of affairs had sufficiently impressed itself on

his startled senses, he burst out of the room in mortal terror, shouting

out "murder."

There was nobody in the house to hear him but Mrs. Richenough. She came

forward, slightly overcome by drowsiness; but the sight she saw woke her

up effectually.

"Good mercy!" cried she, running to the prostrate man. "Is he dead?"

"He looks dead," shivered Mr. Saxby, hardly knowing whether he was not

dead himself.

They raised Pym's head, and put a pillow under it. The landlady wrung

her hands.

"We must have a doctor," she cried: "but I can see he is dead. This

comes of that quarrel with his captain: I heard them raving frightfully

at one another. There has been a scuffle here--see that chair. Oh! and

look at my beautiful ivory knocked down!--and the shade all broke to

atoms!"

"I'll fetch Mr. Ferrar," cried Saxby, feeling himself rather powerless

to act; and with nobody to aid him but the gabbling woman.

Like mad, Saxby tore up the street, burst in at Mark Ferrar's open door

and went full butt against Mark himself; who was at the moment turning

quickly out of it.

"Take care, Saxby. What are you about?"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake do come, Mr. Ferrar! Pym is dead. He is lying

dead on the floor."

The first thing Ferrar did was to scan his junior officer narrowly,

wondering whether he could be quite sober. Yes, he seemed to be that;

but agitated to trembling, and his face as pale as death. The next

minute Ferrar was bending over Pym. Alas, he saw too truly that life was

extinct.

"It's his skipper that has done it, sir," repeated the landlady.

"Hush, Mrs. Richenough!" rebuked Ferrar. "Captain Tanerton has not done

this."

"But I heard 'em screeching and howling at one another, sir," persisted

Mrs. Richenough. "Their quarrel must have come to blows."

"I do not believe it," dissented Ferrar. "Captain Tanerton would not be

capable of anything of the kind. Fight with a man who has served under

him!--you don't understand things, Mrs. Richenough."

Saxby had run for the nearest medical man. Ferrar ran to find his

captain. He knew that Captain Tanerton intended to put up at a small

hotel in the Minories for the night.

To this hotel went Ferrar, and found Captain Tanerton. Tired with his

evening's search after Pym, the captain was taking some refreshment,

before going up to Sir Dace Fontaine's--which he had promised, in

Sir Dace's anxiety, to do. He received Ferrar's report--that Pym was

dead--with incredulity: did not appear to believe it: but he betrayed no

embarrassment, or any other guilty sign.

"Why, I came straight here from Pym," he observed. "It's hardly twenty

minutes since I left him. He was all right then--except that he had been

having more drink."

"Old Mother Richenough says, sir, that Pym and you had a loud quarrel."

"Say that, does she," returned the captain carelessly. "Her ears must

have deceived her, Mr. Ferrar."

"A quarrel and fight she says, sir. I told her I knew better."

Captain Tanerton took his cap and started with Ferrar for Ship Street,

plunging into a reverie. Presently he began to speak--as if he wished to

account for his own movements.

"When you left me, Mr. Ferrar--you know"--and here he exchanged a

significant glance with his new first mate--"I went on to Ship Street,

and took a look at Pym's room. A lamp was shining on the table, and his

landlady had the window open, closing the shutters. This gave me an

opportunity of seeing inside. Pym I saw; but not--not anyone else."

Again Captain Tanerton's tone was significant. Ferrar appeared to

understand it perfectly. It looked as though they had some secret

understanding between them which they did not care to talk of openly.

The captain resumed.

"After fastening the shutters, Mrs. Richenough came to the door--for a

breath of air, she remarked, as she saw me: and she positively denied,

in answer to my questions, that any young lady was there. Mr. Pym had

never had a young lady come after him at all, she protested, whether

sister or cousin, or what not."

"Yes, sir," said Ferrar: for the captain had paused.

"I went in, and spoke to Pym. But, I saw in a moment that he had been

drinking again. He was not in a state to be reasoned with, or talked to.

I asked him but one question, and asked it civilly: would he tell me

where Verena Fontaine was. Pym replied in an unwilling tone; he was

evidently sulky. Verena Fontaine was at home again with her people; and

he had not been able, for that reason, to see her. Thinking the ship

had gone away, and he with it, Verena had returned home early in the

afternoon. That was the substance of his answer."

"But I--I don't know whether that account can be true, sir," hesitated

Ferrar. "I was not sure, you know, sir, that it was the young lady; I

said so----"

"Yes, yes, I understood that," interrupted the captain quickly. "Well,

it was what Pym said to me," he added, after a pause: "one hardly knows

what to believe. However, she was not there, so far as I could ascertain

and judge; and I left Pym and came up here to my hotel. I was not two

minutes with him."

"Then--did no quarrel take place, sir?" cried Ferrar, thinking of the

landlady's story.

"Not an angry word."

At this moment, as they were turning into Ship Street, Saxby, who seemed

completely off his head, ran full tilt against Ferrar. It was all over,

he cried out in excitement, as he turned back with them: the doctor

pronounced Pym to be really dead.

"It is a dreadful thing," said the captain. "And, seemingly, a

mysterious one."

"Oh, it is dreadful," asserted young Saxby. "What will poor Miss Verena

do? I saw her just now," he added, dropping his voice.

"Saw her where?" asked the captain, taking a step backwards.

"In the place where I've just met you, sir," replied Saxby. "I was

running past round the corner into the street, on my way home from

Clapham, when a young lady met and passed me, going pretty nearly as

quick as I was. She had her face muffled in a black veil, but I am

nearly sure it was Miss Verena Fontaine. I thought she must be coming

from Pym's lodgings here."

Captain Tanerton and his chief mate exchanged glances of intelligence

under the light of the street gas-lamp. The former then turned to Saxby.

"Mr. Saxby," said he, "I would advise you not to mention this little

incident. It would not, I am sure, be pleasant to Miss Verena Fontaine's

friends to hear of it. And, after all, you are not sure that it was

she."

"Very true, sir," replied Saxby. "I'll not speak of it again."

"You hear, sir," answered Ferrar softly, as Saxby stepped on to open

the house-door. "This seems to bear out what I said. And, by the way,

sir, I also saw----"

"Hush!" cautiously interrupted the captain--for they had reached the

door, and Mrs. Richenough stood at it.

And what Mr. Ferrar further saw, whatever it might be, was not heard

by Captain Tanerton. There was no present opportunity for private

conversation: and Ferrar was away in the morning with the _Rose of

Delhi_.

* * * * *

After parting with Captain Tanerton on leaving the ship, I made my way

to the Mansion House, took an omnibus to Covent Garden, and called at

the Tavistock to tell Mr. Brandon of the return of the ship. Mr. Brandon

kept me to dinner. About eight o'clock I left him, and went to the

Marylebone Road to see the Fontaines. Coralie was in the drawing-room

alone.

"Is it you, Johnny Ludlow!" she gaily cried, when old Ozias showed me

in. "You are as welcome as flowers in May. Here I am, without a soul to

speak to. You must have a game at chess with me."

"Your sister is not come home, then?"

"Not she. I thought it likely she would come, as soon as the ship's head

was turned seaward--I told you so. But she has not. And now the ship's

back again, I hear. A fine time you must have had of it!"

"We just had. But how did you know?"

"From papa. Papa betook himself to the docks this afternoon, to assure

himself, I presume, that the _Rose of Delhi_ was gone. And my belief is,

Johnny, that he will work himself into a nervous fever," Coralie broke

off to say, in her equable way, as she helped me to place the pieces.

"When he got there, he found the ship was back again. This put him out a

little, as you may judge; and something else put him out more. He heard

that Vera went on board with Pym yesterday afternoon when the ship was

lying in St. Katherine's Docks. Upon that, what notion do you suppose he

took up? I have first move, don't I?"

"Certainly. What notion did he take up?" The reader must remember that

I knew nothing of Sir Dace's visit to the ship.

"Why, that Vera might be resolving to convert herself into a stowaway,

and go out with Pym and the ship. Poor papa! He went searching all over

the vessel. He must be off his head."

"Verena would not do that."

"Do it?" retorted Coralie. "She'd be no more likely to do it than to go

up a chimney, as the sweeps do. I told papa so. He brought me this news

when he came home to dinner. And he might just as well have stayed away,

for all he ate."

Coralie paused to look at her game. I said nothing.

"He could only drink. It was as if he had a fierce thirst upon him. When

the sweets came on, he left the table and shut himself in his little

library. I sent Ozias to ask if he would have a cup of tea or coffee

made; papa swore at poor Ozias, and locked the door upon him. When

Verena does appear I'd not say but he'll beat her."

"No, no: not that."

"But, I tell you he is off his head. He is still shut up: and nobody

dare go near him when he gets into a fit of temper. It is so silly of

papa! Verena is all right. But this disobedience, you see, is something

new to him."

"You can't move that bishop. It leaves your king in check."

"So it does. The worst item of news remains behind," added Coralie. "And

that is that Pym does not sail with the ship."

"I should not think he would now. Captain Tanerton would not take him."

"Papa told me Captain Tanerton had caused him to be superseded. Was Pym

very much the worse for what he took, Johnny? Was he very insolent? You

must have seen it all?"

"He had taken quite enough. And he was about as insolent as a man can

be."

"Ferrar is appointed to his place, papa says; and a new man to

Ferrar's."

"Ferrar is! I am glad of that: very. He deserves to get on."

"But Ferrar is not a gentleman, is he?" objected Coralie.

"Not in one sense. There are gentlemen and gentlemen. Mark Ferrar is

very humble as regards birth and bringing-up. His father is a journeyman

china-painter at one of the Worcester china-factories; and Mark got

his learning at St. Peter's charity-school. But every instinct Mark

possesses is that of a refined, kindly, modest gentleman; and he

has contrived to improve himself so greatly by dint of study and

observation, that he might now pass for a gentleman in any society.

Some men, whatever may be their later advantages, can never throw off

the common tone and manner of early habits and associations. Ferrar

has succeeded in doing it."

"If Pym stays on shore it may bring us further complication," mused

Coralie. "I should search for Verena myself then--and search in

earnest. Papa and old Ozias have gone about it in anything but a likely

manner."

"Have you any notion where she can be?"

"Just the least bit of notion in the world," laughed Coralie. "It

flashed across me the other night where she might have hidden herself.

I don't know it. I have no particular ground to go upon."

"You did not tell Sir Dace?"

"Not I," lightly answered Coralie. "We two sisters don't interfere with

one another's private affairs. I did keep back a letter of Vera's; one

she wrote to Pym when we first left home; but I have done so no more.

Here comes some tea at last!"

"I should have told," I continued in a low tone. "Or taken means myself

to see whether my notion was right or wrong."

"What did it signify?--when Pym was going away in a day or two. Check to

you, Johnny Ludlow."

That first game, what with talking and tea-drinking, was a long one. I

won it. When Ozias came in for the tea-cups Coralie asked him whether

Sir Dace had rung for anything. No, the man answered; most likely his

master would remain locked in till bed-time; it was his way when any

great thing put him out.

"I don't think I can stay for another game," I said to Coralie, as she

began to place the men again.

"Are you in such a hurry?" cried Coralie, glancing round at the clock:

which said twenty minutes to ten.

I was not in any hurry at all that night, as regarded myself: I had

thought she might not care for me to stay longer. Miss Deveen and

Cattledon had gone out to dinner some ten miles away, and were not

expected home before midnight. So we began a fresh game.

"Why! that clock must have stopped!"

Chancing to look at it by-and-by, I saw that it stood at the same

time--twenty minutes to ten. I took out my watch. It said just ten

minutes past ten.

"What does it signify?" said Coralie. "You can stay here till twenty

minutes to twelve if you like--and be whirled home in a cab by midnight

then."