Flower eyed the pair restlessly, but Mr. Green assured him with a courtly bow that Mr. Smith’s assurances might be relied upon. “He hoped he was a gentleman,” he said, feelingly.
“Some of us thought—I thought,” said Joe, with a glance at the skipper, “that the mate shoved you overboard.”
“You always were a fool,” commented the skipper.
“Yes, sir,” said Joe, dutifully, and as they moved slowly back along the road gave him the latest information about Seabridge and the Foam.
“The Swallow’s just come up in the tier,” he concluded; “and if you want to see Mr. Fraser, I’ll go and see if he’s aboard.”
The skipper agreed, and after exacting renewed assurances of secrecy from both men, waited impatiently in the private bar of the Waterman’s Arms while they put off from the stairs and boarded the steamer.
In twenty minutes, during which time the penniless skipper affected not to notice the restless glances of the landlord, they returned with Fraser, and a hearty meeting took place between the two men. The famished skipper was provided with meat and drink, while the two A. B.’s whetted their thirst in the adjourning bar.
“You’ve had a rough time,” said Fraser, as the skipper concluded a dramatic recital of his adventures.
Flower smiled broadly. “I’ve come out of it right side uppermost,” he said, taking a hearty pull at his tankard; “the worst part was losing my money. Still, it’s all in the day’s work. Joe tells me that Elizabeth is walking out with Gibson, so you see it has all happened as I bargained for.”
“I’ve heard so,” said Fraser.