Why should Captain Job be able to convert his cub into a gentleman, and she be debarred from raising her child? What had Rattenbury himself been? What had been his wife's birth? Both came of the seafaring class, neither had derived from gentle blood. They had occupied a position to which they had been born. Why then should Jack be promoted? On the other hand Winefred had a real gentleman for her father, and had therefore a half claim to be a lady.
Moreover, Jack was to obtain his advantages and advancement by means of money accumulated by the old smuggling adventurer through the despoiling of others, even of her father, and by the sacrifice of her brother.
She had a right to some of the store. It did not belong to Captain Job because it was under his roof, and in his cupboard; it belonged to the men who by their blood and sweat had earned it, and she entered into their inheritance, acquired their rights. Olver had spoken the truth. In all common equity the money was hers. Dench had forfeited his rights by the betrayal of his mates. She was shrewd enough to see that Olver could only have known of the expedition, and of the attempt to trap those taking part in it, by having been first privy to it and then by having betrayed it. To herself Jane said that the sum she required was not large, just sufficient to enable her to tide over her present difficulties, to secure a home, to establish herself in a little business—a small shop, perhaps. Thus furnished, her future would be secure, and there would be a prospect open for her child.
This—the having a shop—had long been an object of ambition, so as not to be compelled to tramp over the country exposed to every weather, away from her child, carrying her pack.
How much had Captain Job saved during his long career? Surely it could be no robbery if she were to deduct from it the modest sum that she so greatly required, and to which she had a moral right.
She stood up, laid her knitting down on the chair, and went to the wardrobe, then halted, and going to the window closed the shutters. Then she stood, with her finger to her lip, listening to make sure that Jack was asleep upstairs.
She heard his heavy breathing. He was young—sleep sealed up eyes and ears so soon as his head was laid on the pillow.
She took the candle from the table, and holding it aloft looked at the captain.
He lay as he had lain for many hours, motionless, apparently unconscious.
Then she replaced the candle and went again towards the wardrobe. Something caught and lightly restrained her feet. She looked down, they were entangled in the worsted of her knitting. She stooped to disengage them. Next she lightly opened the doors of the wardrobe, and putting her hands to the pegs drew the rack forward.