He went shivering home, and stirred up his fire. He was cold to the heart. That discreet afterthought which is the enemy of too many of our noble decisions, tormented him. He turned to his books, and taking one which was lying open upon the study-table read:—
“He spoke much about the wrongs of women; and it is very touching to know that during the last year of his life he frequently went forth at night, and endeavored to redeem the fallen women of Brighton.”...
It was not three days from this time that Captain Hap approached the minister on the Alley, with a sober and anxious face. He held in his hand a copy of the “Windover Topsail.” His rough finger trembled as it pressed the paragraph which he handed in silence for Bayard to read:—
“We regret to learn that a certain prominent citizen of this place who has been laboring among the sailors and fishermen in a quasi-clerical capacity, is so unfortunate as to find his name associated with a most unpleasant scandal arising out of his acquaintance with the disreputable women of the district in which he labors. We wish the Reverend gentleman well out of his scrape, but may take occasion to suggest that such self-elected censors of our society and institutions must learn somehow that they cannot touch pitch and not be defiled, any more than ordinary men who do not make their pretensions to holiness.”
“Well?” said Bayard, quietly returning the paper.
Job Slip had joined them, and read the paragraph over the Captain’s shoulder. Job was white to the lips with the virile rage of a man of the sea.
“I’ve shipped here, and I’ve coasted there, and I’ve sailed eenymost around the world,” slowly said Captain Hap. “I never in my life—and I’m comin’ on seventy-five year old—I never knew no town I wouldn’t d’ruther see a scandal a-goin’ in, than this here. It’s Hell let loose on ye,” added the Captain grimly.
“Find me the fellar that put up that job!” roared Job Slip, rolling up his sleeves.