"Helston introduced me one day in London. I met her several times, put the old man" (the Admiral) "on to a good thing in oil shares, got an invite to his place at Fareham for a couple of days, and—and—and—well, Glover, your cousin simply knocked me over, and" (the colour rising under his tanned face) "I asked her to be my wife."
"You did?" I asked, simply astounded. (Fancy old Milly marrying a pirate!)
"Yes, I reckon I did," he answered quietly, his face twitching again; "and I reckon I meant it, and meant it for all time."
"Did she——?" I began.
"She did not say 'No'," he replied, speaking reverently. "She said that she would give me my answer when I came back."
"But how could you——?" I began, and could have bitten my tongue off.
He knew well enough what I meant, and his face paled and became fearfully hard and rigid.
"If she had promised to be my wife, Glover, I would have thrown up this cursed job, though I reckon they might have hunted me down in time and got a knife into me later. As it was, I had to go through with the show. I had sworn to back up my pals, but calculated my job might about end when I'd delayed Helston and brought out those beastly destroyers.
"Youngster, we three—Hamilton, Schmidt, and myself—have looked death face to face together a hundred times, and, wife or no wife, a white man could not throw up the cards and back out of the game when his chums were cornered.
"I could have quitted any night this last fortnight, skedaddled out in a junk, but, well, I didn't, and here I am now, with a hole in my stomach, waiting to be planted."