"My baby chain," she said, "my baby chain?"
The Skipper arose at once and approached her.
"Why, Cynthy, Cynthy, girl," he said soothingly.
"Don't touch her, sir," whispered the Bo's'n.
"My baby chain, my baby chain," said Cynthia in a strangely unfamiliar voice, fumbling at her neck the while.
The Skipper stepped quickly out to the passageway and felt in his pocket. He took something therefrom and returned some other thing to its keeping. While he was thus engaged, I noticed that the Bo's'n watched him with dilated eyes. He seemed to shrink backward, into himself, as it were. A look of horror overspread his features. He whispered to me: "If I didn't know positive, sir, that you threw that—that—you know, sir, into the water, far, far out into the water——"
"Don't be a fool, Bo's'n!" said I. "You say you saw me throw it out into the water, and, for my part, I don't think it has got legs to walk or arms to swim with. Just imagine it paddling ashore and crawling up the bank——"
"Stop, sir, in God's name!"
"My chain, my baby chain," said Cynthia, still advancing.
The Skipper now turned and came our way. He had in his hand nothing more appalling than the chain and locket. He said, "Why, Cynthy girl, why, Cynthy girl, why, Cynthy!" He laid his hard old hand upon her arm as tenderly as her own mother could have done, and then he placed the chain round her neck and clasped it there. A satisfied look came over her features, she smiled, and laid her hand upon the locket. I wondered if she remembered that my face was there.