Many Cargoes Part 22

"I was carrying you off to the doctor," said the boatswain. "How was I to know you was only shamming?"

"SHAMMING?" said Chrissie, in tones of incredulous horror. "I was asleep. I often go to sleep in the afternoon."

The boatswain made no reply, except to grin with great intelligence as he followed his charge upstairs again. He grinned at intervals until the return of Susan and Miss Polson, who, trying to look unconcerned, came in later on, both apparently suffering from temper, Susan especially.

Amid the sympathetic interruptions of these listeners Chrissie recounted her experiences, while the boatswain, despite his better sense, felt like the greatest scoundrel unhung, a feeling which was fostered by the remarks of Susan and the chilling regards of Miss Poison.

"I shall inform the captain," said Miss Polson, bridling. "It's my duty."

"Oh, I shall tell him," said Chrissie. "I shall tell him the moment he comes in at the door."

"So shall I," said Susan; "the idea of taking such liberties!"

Having fired this broadside, the trio watched the enemy narrowly and anxiously.

"If I've done anything wrong, ladies," said the unhappy boatswain, "I am sorry for it. I can't say anything fairer than that, and I'll tell the cap'n myself exactly how I came to do it when he comes in."

"Pah! tell-tale!" said Susan.

"Of course, if you are here to fetch and carry," said Miss Polson, with withering emphasis.

"The idea of a grown man telling tales," said Chrissie scornfully.

"Baby!"

"Why, just now you were all going to tell him yourselves," said the bewildered boatswain.

The two elder women rose and regarded him with looks of pitying disdain.

Miss Polson's glance said "Fool!" plainly; Susan, a simple child of nature, given to expressing her mind freely, said "Blockhead!" with conviction.

"I see 'ow it is," said the boatswain, after ruminating deeply. "Well, I won't split, ladies. I can see now you was all in it, and it was a little job to get me out of the house."

"What a head he has got," said the irritated Susan; "isn't it wonderful how he thinks of it all! n.o.body would think he was so clever to look at him."

"Still waters run deep," said the boatswain, who was beginning to have a high opinion of himself.

"And pride goes before a fall," said Chrissie; "remember that, Mr.

Tucker."

Mr. Tucker grinned, but, remembering the fable of the pitcher and the well, pressed his superior officer that evening to relieve him from his duties. He stated that the strain was slowly undermining a const.i.tution which was not so strong as appearances would warrant, and that his knowledge of female nature was lamentably deficient on many important points. "You're doing very well," said the captain, who had no intention of attending any more Dorcases, "very well indeed; I am proud of you."

"It isn't a man's work," objected the boatswain. "Besides, if anything happens you'll blame me for it."

"Nothing can happen," declared the captain confidently. "We shall make a start in about four days now. You're the only man I can trust with such a difficult job, Tucker, and I shan't forget you."

"Very good," said the other dejectedly. "I obey orders, then."

The next day pa.s.sed quietly, the members of the household making a great fuss of Tucker, and thereby filling him with forebodings of the worst possible nature. On the day after, when the captain, having business at a neighbouring town, left him in sole charge, his uneasiness could not be concealed.

"I'm going for a walk," said Chrissie, as he sat by himself, working out dangerous moves and the best means of checking them; "would you care to come with me, Tucker?"

"I wish you wouldn't put it that way, miss," said the boatswain, as he reached for his hat.

"I want exercise," said Chrissie; "I've been cooped up long enough."

She set off at a good pace up the High Street, attended by her faithful follower, and pa.s.sing through the small suburbs, struck out into the country beyond. After four miles the boatswain, who was no walker, reminded her that they had got to go back.

"Plenty of time," said Chrissie, "we have got the day before us. Isn't it glorious? Do you see that milestone, Tucker? I'll race you to it; come along."

She was off on the instant, with the boatswain, who suspected treachery, after her.

"You CAN run," she panted, thoughtfully, as she came in second; "we'll have another one presently. You don't know how good it is for you, Tucker."

The boatswain grinned sourly and looked at her from the corner of his eye. The next three miles pa.s.sed like a horrible nightmare; his charge making a race for every milestone, in which the labouring boatswain, despite his want of practice, came in the winner. The fourth ended disastrously, Chrissie limping the last ten yards, and seating herself with a very woebegone face on the stone itself.

"You did very well, miss," said the boatswain, who thought he could afford to be generous. "You needn't be offended about it."

"It's my ankle," said Chrissie with a little whimper. "Oh! I twisted it right round."

The boatswain stood regarding her in silent consternation

"It's no use looking like that," said Chrissie sharply, "you great clumsy thing. If you hadn't have run so hard it wouldn't have happened.

It's all your fault."

"If you don't mind leaning on me a bit," said Tucker, "we might get along."

Chrissie took his arm petulantly, and they started on their return journey, at the rate of about four hours a mile, with little cries and gasps at every other yard.

"It's no use," said Chrissie as she relinquished his arm, and, limping to the side of the road, sat down. The boatswain p.r.i.c.ked up his ears hopefully at the sound of approaching wheels.

"What's the matter with the young lady?" inquired a groom who was driving a little trap, as he pulled up and regarded with interest a grimace of extraordinary intensity on the young lady's face.

"Broke her ankle, I think," said the boatswain glibly. "Which way are you going?"

"Well, I'm going to Barborough," said the groom; "but my guvnor's rather pertickler."

"I'll make it all right with you," said the boatswain.

The groom hesitated a minute, and then made way for Chrissie as the boatswain a.s.sisted her to get up beside him; then Tucker, with a grin of satisfaction at getting a seat once more, clambered up behind, and they started.

"Have a rug, mate," said the groom, handing the reins to Chrissie and pa.s.sing it over; "put it round your knees and tuck the ends under you."

"Ay, ay, mate," said the boatswain as he obeyed the instructions.

"Are you sure you are quite comfortable?" said the groom affectionately.

"Quite," said the other.

The groom said no more, but in a quiet business-like fas.h.i.+on placed his hands on the seaman's broad back, and shot him out into the road. Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed up the reins and drove off at a gallop.

Without the faintest hope of winning, Mr. Tucker, who realised clearly, appearances notwithstanding, that he had fallen into a trap, rose after a hurried rest and started on his fifth race that morning. The prize was only a second-rate groom with plated b.u.t.tons, who was waving cheery farewells to him with a dingy top hat; but the boatswain would have sooner had it than a silver tea-service.