But then, if the risk’s considerable, the gain’s even more so. Now, my lads, this shipmate’s good fortune set me a-thinking—as, indeed, was but nat’ral. David Thomas didn’t own so much as one hundred and fifty pounds—not he. His old father might be worth that sum, if his possessions was all sold. But in the principality, where money’s scarce, a little goes a long way; and I calculated, on that account, if I could draw anything approaching so heavy an amount of pay on a single venture, Miller Howell would not stand in the way of my wedding his daughter Rhoda.
“So,” says I, “Evan, my old shipmate, you and I have always been the best of comrades. I’d like to enjoy a similar slice of good fortune. Not as though I’d be greedy, Evan. Give me my ship’s biscuit and my share of grog, and I’m content. But, Evan, there’s a pretty craft that wants to moor alongside of me, and her skipper won’t agree, because I haven’t got a shot in my locker. That’s it, indeed!”
Evan, he looks at me steady; then he holds out his fist with all the grace of a port-admiral, just as if he meant to serve double grog or give leave to go ashore.
“Hugh,” says he, “the day after to-morrow I sail again for the North Seas. For my mother, Hugh, she’s old and she’s sick, and this ’ere pocket-book, with its contents, is for her. Join our crew, my hearty, and I’ll promise ye fair play and a sailor’s greeting. You’ll bring back with ye enough to satisfy your lass’s skipper, and I’ll dance at your wedding.”
Up I springs to my feet, and, though I was short of money, I orders another grog. And then Evan and I struck our bargain; and, I tell ye, I felt another and a stronger man.
“Now, Evan,” I sings out, “I’ll be off home to tell my lass.”
“Avast,” says my shipmate, “you’ll need to see about your kit. It’s darned cool up in them latitudes!”
“Ay, ay,” I replied—“to-morrow will do for that.”
“Right,” he answers; “we’ll meet at this very spot to-morrow, by your leave.”
Well, mates, with a swelling heart, I crossed the Mawdach River, and began to trudge back to Glanwern. About a mile or so to the north of the village, I ran athwart Gwen Thomas, with a roll of music under her arm, and a broad grin on her deceitful face.