Black’erchief Dick stepped lightly into the room, and, shutting the door behind him, stood smiling on the company, a slim, dapper little figure in black velvet.
Then he removed his black beaver and called loudly for liquor all round. His words were received with cheers, and once again the talk broke out, and the singing restarted.
Dick perched himself on the end of one of the empty tables and looked about for Anny. The smile faded from his face when he saw she was not there, and a look of disappointment took its place. He had no doubt she was preparing to fly with him, but he had expected to see her waiting for him, her big eyes and wistful little face alight with expectation, and, he flattered himself, love. His vanity was hurt at her neglect. So his astonishment and anger when he saw her come in a few minutes later, in her usual kirtle and serving apron, an unwonted colour in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes as she fluttered to and fro from one knot of seamen to another, leaving a smile here and a jest there, and a pert, stinging remark somewhere else, knew no bounds. He looked at her in amazement; she had not even glanced his way. The disappointed expression left his face and a smile returned, but it was not the same smile.
In the next half hour Anny surpassed herself for gaiety. Her laugh rang out loud and clear almost every other second, and the whole company was at her feet in ten minutes.
Even old Gilbot noticed her and, wagging his head sagely, said that “good lashes” were “good business.”
But for Dick she had no eyes, not once did she meet his glance, bring his liquor, or come within five feet of him.
At first his surprise kept him silent and grave, so that Blueneck observed in a whisper to Goody that it was wont to be the lasses and not the Captain who were grave when sailing time came, and that times had changed, but after a while Dick’s smile grew more and more pronounced and he called for rum again and again.
Still Anny took no notice of him. Louder and louder grew her laugh, quicker and quicker her retorts, brighter her smile, and more numerous her admirers.
Hal looked up from his pewter cleaning and sighed.
“She was never so happy when we were sweethearts,” he muttered.