MR. SMITH SEEKS A PARTNER
McPhulach, thinking the girl was asleep, shook her gently by the
shoulder; but, as this met with no response, he took a closer look at
her.
"Losh presairve us!" he ejaculated, "the lassie's fainted."
He took from his pocket a small, flat flask, and, after drawing the
cork, placed the bottle to his nose and sniffed the aroma
appreciatively. Then, with a sigh, he forced some of its contents
between the girl's teeth, pillowing her head on his arm as he did so. In
a moment or two she opened her eyes and stared at him with a dull,
uncomprehending gaze, which, however, quickly gave place to a look of
bewilderment.
"Why, what's happened?" she murmured and passed a hand across her
forehead as if trying to remember.
"Ye've jes' swallowed a drap o' unco' guid whusky," answered the
engineer, holding up the flask to see how much he had "wasted."
"Why I--I must have fainted!"
"Aye, ye were lying on the cooch like a wax-work figger when I came in."
The girl sat up with cheeks that had suddenly become very red. Obviously
she was ashamed of being found out in an essentially feminine weakness.
"I was very tired," she said apologetically, "and--and----"
"Ye jes' swooned," put in McPhulach as she hesitated. "Weel, I'm no
sairprised. I'm subjec' tae it mysel', which is why I always carry a wee
drappie aboot me pairson. It's likewise a muckle fine thing for stomach
troubles, ye ken."
The girl nodded absently and gazed through the chart-room window at the
_Satellite_, now steaming about a cable's length astern. Under the
bos'n's directions, the towing hawsers had been cast off and hauled back
aboard the gunboat. It had not occurred to her till this moment that Mr.
Dykes must have been considerably exercised in his mind at seeing her on
the bridge, and in command instead of Calamity. She wondered what he
thought about it.
"Weel, I'll be ganging below," remarked McPhulach. "It was a michty guid
thing I came up here for a breath o' fresh air an' tae see hoo ye were
getting alang."
"It was, and I'm very much obliged to you for what you did," answered
the girl. "But please don't say anything about it to anyone."
She stammered and blushed as though asking him to compound a felony.
"Nae, nae, I'll no breathe a word, gin ye dinna want me tae," he assured
her. "Mr. Smeeth's man tells me a steam-pipe has burstit in his cabin,
sae I'll jes' gang doon and hae a speer at it," saying which the
engineer left the chart-room, and, descending to the deck, made his way
to the second-mate's cabin.
After an amiable exchange of greetings between himself and Smith, he
found the leak in the steam-pipe and plugged it with cotton waste.
"'Tis a fine bit o' wark that Miss Fletcher has done," he remarked,
preparing to leave.
"You mean gettin' the _Satellite_ off?" answered Smith. "Yes, Byles was
telling me about it; said it was one of the finest feats of seamanship
he'd ever seen."
"Aye, 'twas that. Mon, she'd mak' a splendid wife for a body who could
manage her."
"D'you think so?" said Smith thoughtfully.
"Never a doot, lad. But the mon who'd be strang enoo' to marry the like
o' her, would be strang enoo' not tae marry at a', I'm thinkin'."
There was a pause and McPhulach made to leave the cabin. As he was about
to open the door, Smith called him back.
"Thinkin' it over," said he, "I ain't such a bad-lookin' cove, am I?"
"It's haird tae say," answered the engineer slowly. "Wi' a few
alterations an' repairs, some women micht regaird ye as an Adonis."
"Never met the bloke. But," went on the second-mate, trying to pin the
other down to a definite statement, "you wouldn't say I was hideous,
would you?"
Again McPhulach regarded him critically before venturing an opinion.
"It's haird tae say," he replied at last.
"Oh hang!" ejaculated Smith in disgust. "Still," he went on, "I'm blowed
if I don't have a try."
"Eh?"
"She might do worse."
"D'ye mean that ye're goin' tae ax Mees Fletcher tae marry ye?"
"Why not?"
"You're a brave mon, Smeeth."
"But why shouldn't I?" reiterated the second-mate.
"I wish ye luck," said the engineer dryly. "Hoo-ever, I ken nae reason
why ye shouldna ax her."
"D'you mean you don't think she'd have me?"
"Nae, nae, women hae quare tastes, an' it isna always the best-lookin'
mon that comes oot the best."
"Look here, Mac, d'you think you could put out a feeler for us?"
"Eh!"
"Jest sound her, so to speak; find out whether she likes me."
"Nae, nae," answered the engineer hastily. "I've enough troubles of me
ain, an' I'm no goin' tae do anither body's coorting."
"Tell you what, Mac," went on Smith coaxingly, "you shall be best man at
the wedding."
"Ye're verra generous, but it's no' the job I'm speerin' after."
"All right, you can give us a wedding present then."
"Eh! Weel, mebbe I'd be ye'r best mon gin ye were marrit."
"Half a mo, Mac," said the second-mate, as the engineer made another
attempt to escape. "You don't think there's any one else in the runnin',
do you?"
"It's a verra deeficult question tae answer," replied McPhulach.
"How d'you mean?"
"There is an' there isna'."
"What the devil are you driving at?"
"I mean that she's wishfu' tae marry the skeeper, an' he's no wishfu'
tae be marrit."
"Crikey!" ejaculated Smith, the look of pleasurable anticipation dying
out of his face. "Who told you that?"
"Ony fu' wi' a pair o' een in his held could hae telt ye that."
"I guessed she was a bit gone on him at first, but blimey, I never
thought she was in love with him--why, he's old enough to be her father,
I should say. Besides, he's only got one eye, and you can't call him
handsome, look at him any way you like."
"I told ye women hae quare tastes."
"Well, if I ain't a better man to look at than that one-eyed old crock
aft, I'll eat my bloomin' hat."
"I wouldna advise ye tae mak' rash promises," answered McPhulach, and
managed to slip out of the cabin before Smith could detain him.
For a time the amorous second-mate lay still, trying to make up his mind
as to the best and most effective manner of declaring his passion to
Miss Fletcher. McPhulach's reference to the Captain, though it had
disconcerted him at the moment, upon mature consideration seemed so
preposterous that he had found no difficulty in dismissing it from his
mind. The more he thought over his matrimonial scheme, the more
convinced he became that, in marrying him, Miss Fletcher would be a very
fortunate young woman. Besides, she would have the inestimable privilege
of keeping him "straight," which would, no doubt, provide her with an
interest in life. Women, he believed, liked reforming, and his future
wife would have ample opportunity for indulging in this hobby. She
might, in time and with patience, even effect a permanent reform.
Little guessing the good fortune in store for her, Dora Fletcher stood
on the bridge with a sextant in her hands, "shooting the sun," it being
then exactly at the meridian. This was the first time since they had
been overtaken by the hurricane that a chance had occurred for taking
observations. For the last two or three days the ship's approximate
position could only be ascertained by dead reckoning, and, therefore, it
was necessary to correct this at the earliest opportunity. Having
concluded her observations, marked the _Hawk's_ position on the chart,
and laid out the course, the girl lay down on the settee to try and make
up a little for the inadequate amount of sleep she had had during the
last forty-eight hours. Later on in the day she again visited the
Captain's cabin. He was sleeping when she went in, and it was evident
that his condition had improved. Having given the steward some further
instructions, she went to Smith's cabin to see how he was getting on.
"Well, how do you feel this evening?" she inquired on entering.
"Pretty fair, thanks," answered the invalid with a deep sigh.
"Your leg's not hurting you?"
"Oh no, my leg ain't hurting me."
"Then what's the matter? You seem rather melancholy."
"I've been thinkin'," said Smith still more gloomily, "of me future."
"Your future?"
"Yes. A man lyin' on a sick bed gets queer notions into his head,
especially if he's got brains."
"But why should you worry about the future?" asked the girl, puzzled.
"Your leg will soon be all right, and you'll be able to go on duty
again."
"The fact is," replied Smith, suddenly becoming confidential, "I'm
thinking of settlin' down."
"Yes?"
"A man like me, who's always led a rovin' life, so to speak, wants an
anchor. A home and wife and kids, and so on."
"Then you're thinking of getting married?" asked the girl innocently.
"That all depends," he answered. "Although you mightn't think it, I'm
rather a particular sort of cove. Of course I've got my faults----" and
he waved an arm as if to signify that he also had his virtues, which
were too obvious to specify.
Miss Fletcher, not feeling called upon to make any comment, remained
silent, and, after a moment or two, Smith went on.
"What I want is a young woman who understands men of my sort. A woman
with a bit of spirit, mind you, not bad-lookin', and able to turn her
hand to 'most anything."
"H'm; I should think you'd better advertise, stating all your
requirements."
"No need," replied Smith triumphantly. "I've got the very woman in my
eye."
"Oh? That ought to save you a lot of trouble, not to say expense,"
answered the girl with a touch of irony, which, however, Smith failed to
perceive.
"Yes, but the trouble is that I ain't quite certain yet whether she'll
have me," he said.
"I should think the easiest way out of the difficulty would be to ask
her," she replied, wholly ignorant of the direction in which the
second-mate's laborious confidences were tending.
"You don't think she'd be offended if I did?"
"Good gracious, how should I know!"
"Better than you think, p'raps," replied Smith mysteriously. "Shall I
tell you her name?"
"Really, Mr. Smith, I don't think it concerns me in the slightest what
the lady's name is."
"But it does!" he almost shouted, raising himself on his elbow and
staring at her hard.
For the first time Dora Fletcher began to see the trend of all this. She
rose from the locker upon which she had been seated.
"I must leave you now," she said a little coldly. "I have to----"
"Half a mo'," broke in Smith, "you haven't heard the lady's name yet."
"I don't think I want to, thanks. It's not a matter which----"
"Isn't it! You wait. The lady's name is Dora Fletcher--how about that?"
An angry flush mounted to the girl's face, and then, being blessed with
that rare possession, a sense of humour, she had much ado to prevent
herself from laughing outright.
"I'm afraid I can't oblige you, Mr. Smith," she said. "Although, of
course, I appreciate the honour you've done me."
"That ain't any use to me," growled the second-mate, rather taken aback
at this unhesitating rejection.
"I'm sorry, but----"
"What's wrong with me, then?" he burst out. "Of course I'm not a
bloomin' earl or a dook nor yet a Captain----"
"I think we had better forget all about it," answered the girl. "Please
don't speak of it again."
But Smith, his hopes dashed to the ground, and his pride wounded, was
not inclined to drop the subject so lightly. In fact, he completely
lost his temper.
"I suppose it's because you're sweet on the skipper," he said savagely.
"But I can tell you that you ain't got a ghost of a chance there; no,
not if you lived to a hundred. He ain't no ornery, bloomin' skipper, nor
Calamity ain't his name. Would you like to know who he is?"
The girl hesitated, torn between an almost irresistible desire to learn
the secret of that strange man's identity, and disgust at the vulgar
outburst of the little Cockney.
"You may as well know," he added, noticing her indecision.
"Well, tell me then," she retorted, unable any longer to resist the
temptation.
Smith glanced furtively around the cabin as if to make sure no one was
concealed there, and then leaned over the edge of his bunk.
"Come nearer," he said; "it ain't the sort of thing to shout out loud."
Reluctantly she moved a little closer to him, and he whispered two words
in her ear.
"Well, what do you say to that?" he asked triumphantly.