“And ’ow the dooce was I to know,” continued Mr. Dobb, bitterly, “that she’d asked this other chap to come down and ’elp ’er with ’er business affairs, now ’e’d got back to England after fifteen years in the Colonies, and never been to Shore’aven before to see ’er? ’Ow the dooce was I to know? . . . Why, I didn’t even know she’d got a brother!”
EPISODE IV
BLACK CATS ARE ALWAYS LUCKY
It had been a day thickly veined and marbled with emotions for the little group of men who, aforetime, had in some measure controlled the sea-going vagaries of that decrepit old barque, the “Jane Gladys.” For, that day, the “Jane Gladys” had ceased to be a ship dowered with an imposing collection of virtues perceptible only to the auctioneer, and had become but so much old wood and rusting iron to be exploited by the speculative marine-store dealer who hazarded the highest price for her unlovely bulk.
This distressful climax in the nautical career of the “Jane Gladys” was not allowed to go unwitnessed by those who had so long lived and thrived amid the sinister shadows of her ill-repute as a barque that was the natural home of venal duplicities. The erstwhile crew of the “Jane Gladys,” those established confederates in mercenary plot and counterplot, had rallied to watch the transfer of their stronghold into alien and unsympathetic ownership, and, in the untroubled throng about the auctioneer, they stood as figures thrust apart from their fellow-men by the stern arm of Tragedy.
Captain Peter Dutt was there, his countenance a very show-case of mournful reminiscence as he gazed upon his late command, although he had retired ashore on a comfortable pension, and had already taken to bragging about his extraordinary prowess as an amateur grower of vegetables. That venerable and corpulent amphibian, Mr. Samuel Clark, was there, too, having contrived to evade for a while his present duties as ferryman across Shorehaven Harbour in order to attend this dismal chapter in the history of the vessel upon which he had served for so many years. And Mr. Horace Dobb, who formerly graced the cook’s galley of the doomed ship, was also in attendance in the great glory of garb which was explained and justified by the fact that he had married a widow and a snug second-hand business at one fortunate sweep.
But, as may be inferred, the regrets of Captain Dutt, of Mr. Clark, and of Mr. Dobb were almost entirely retrospective, for their daily bread was assured. The future was firm ground for their feet to tread, and their woeful deportment had therefore merely a sentimental value. Far more earnest and practical was the grief at the passing of the “Jane Gladys” of the two remaining members of her old crew, Mr. Peter Lock and Mr. Joseph Tridge.
Despite the assiduity with which these two gentlemen had of late pointed out to the great god Luck ways by which he might help them, that fickle deity had proved himself singularly unresponsive. And this meant that neither Mr. Lock nor Mr. Tridge had any attractive prospects to solace them for the loss of their employment on the “Jane Gladys.”
By personal inquiry they had discovered that no master mariner was prepared to risk the morale of his crew by importing into the fo’c’sle anyone who had been even remotely connected with the “Jane Gladys,” nor was a task ashore obtainable when once they had mentioned the only references they could give.
True, Mr. Dobb had promised them his favour, but, so far, nothing had come of it save the abortive attempt to procure employment for Mr. Tridge as a hairdresser. Not that there was any question as to Mr. Dobb’s sincerity of purpose, for, in projecting philanthropies for his two unfortunate shipmates, he was largely considering his own interests. “Strictly Business!” was the self-chosen motto that controlled Mr. Dobb’s energies in every direction, and always there was present in his mind the idea that profitable disposal of stock from the shop in Fore Street might skilfully be accelerated by the placing of his old accomplices of the “Jane Gladys” in strategic situations about the town.
But, apart from securing Mr. Samuel Clark his present job, Mr. Dobb’s efforts had hitherto been negligible in result, and now, of those who mourned the end of the “Jane Gladys,” none mourned her with more genuine feeling or with a greater sense of personal bereavement than Mr. Lock and Mr. Tridge, for others were only mourning for memories, while they were mourning a lost home.