Laker called it supper, because she could not conscientiously give the name of breakfast to a meal extemporised about four o’clock in the morning!
Mr Burton and Bluenose were already seated at the table. Bax stood near the fireplace bending down to Mrs Foster, who was looking up in his face, shaking his hand, and thanking him, with tears in her eyes, for having saved her son’s life! Bax was much perplexed by this view of the matter, taken and obstinately held to by the widow.
“Really, ma’am,” said he, with a deprecatory smile, “you are mistaken, I assure you. I did not save Guy’s life—on the contrary, he saved mine this night; for if he had not jumped well to wind’ard with the line and caught hold of the old foremast, where Tommy and I were perched like two birds—”
“Ha,” interrupted Bluenose, bluntly, “you’d both’s bin in Davy Jones’ locker by this time; for I seed the old stick myself, not three minits arter, go by the board like the stem of a baccy pipe.”
It was just as Bluenose concluded this speech that the young ladies entered the room.
“Come,” cried Bax, turning quickly towards Lucy, who advanced first, “here is another witness to the fact. Do try, Miss Burton, to convince Mrs Foster that I did not—”
Bax paused, for his glance fell at that moment on Amy Russell, whom he had not observed in the confusion of their first appearance in the cottage.
“My adopted daughter,” said Mrs Foster, taking Amy by the hand and leading her forward; “shake hands with Mr Bax, darling, who has saved Guy’s life to-night.”
Bax held Amy’s white little hand for one moment as tenderly as if he were afraid his own iron muscles might injure it.
“I see,” said he, with a smile, “that I must submit to be misrepresented until Guy himself comes to defend me.”