“Yes,” struck in Mrs. Protherick, eager to have a share in the storytelling. “She doesn't remember anything about the three or four weeks they were ashore—at least, not distinctly.”
“It's a great mercy!” interrupted Mrs. Jellicoe, determined to keep the post of honour. “Who wants her to remember these horrors? From Captain Frere's account, it was positively awful!”
“You don't say so!” said Mr. Meekin, dabbing his nose with a dainty handkerchief.
“A 'bolter'—that's what we call an escaped prisoner, Mr. Meekin—happened to be left behind, and he found them out, and insisted on sharing the provisions—the wretch! Captain Frere was obliged to watch him constantly for fear he should murder them. Even in the boat he tried to run them out to sea and escape. He was one of the worst men in the Harbour, they say; but you should hear Captain Frere tell the story.”
“And where is he now?” asked Mr. Meekin, with interest.
“Captain Frere?”
“No, the prisoner.”
“Oh, goodness, I don't know—at Port Arthur, I think. I know that he was tried for bolting, and would have been hanged but for Captain Frere's exertions.”
“Dear, dear! a strange story, indeed,” said Mr. Meekin. “And so the young lady doesn't know anything about it?” “Only what she has been told, of course, poor dear. She's engaged to Captain Frere.”
“Really! To the man who saved her. How charming—quite a romance!”