“Is Walter’s Uncle here?” asked Florence.
“Here, pretty?” returned the Captain. “He ain’t been here this many a long day. He ain’t been heerd on, since he sheered off arter poor Wal”r. But,” said the Captain, as a quotation, “Though lost to sight, to memory dear, and England, Home, and Beauty!”
“Do you live here?” asked Florence.
“Yes, my lady lass,” returned the Captain.
“Oh, Captain Cuttle!” cried Florence, putting her hands together, and speaking wildly. “Save me! keep me here! Let no one know where I am! I’ll tell you what has happened by-and-by, when I can. I have no one in the world to go to. Do not send me away!”
“Send you away, my lady lass!” exclaimed the Captain. “You, my Heart’s Delight! Stay a bit! We’ll put up this here deadlight, and take a double turn on the key!”
With these words, the Captain, using his one hand and his hook with the greatest dexterity, got out the shutter of the door, put it up, made it all fast, and locked the door itself.
When he came back to the side of Florence, she took his hand, and kissed it. The helplessness of the action, the appeal it made to him, the confidence it expressed, the unspeakable sorrow in her face, the pain of mind she had too plainly suffered, and was suffering then, his knowledge of her past history, her present lonely, worn, and unprotected appearance, all so rushed upon the good Captain together, that he fairly overflowed with compassion and gentleness.
“My lady lass,” said the Captain, polishing the bridge of his nose with his arm until it shone like burnished copper, “don’t you say a word to Ed’ard Cuttle, until such times as you finds yourself a riding smooth and easy; which won’t be today, nor yet to-morrow. And as to giving of you up, or reporting where you are, yes verily, and by God’s help, so I won’t, Church catechism, make a note on!”
This the Captain said, reference and all, in one breath, and with much solemnity; taking off his hat at “yes verily,” and putting it on again, when he had quite concluded.