“They was to be married Thursday morning,” continued Joe, “and now here’s Cap’n Flower and no ’ead-piece on the ship. Crool, I call it.”
“She’s a very nice young lady,” said the mortified Mr. Green; “always a pleasant smile for everybody.”
“He’ll come aboard ’ere as safe as heggs is heggs,” said Joe, despondently. “Wot’s to be done?”
He folded his arms on the side and stood ruefully watching the stairs. He was quite confident that there were head-pieces walking the earth, to which a satisfactory solution of this problem would have afforded no difficulty whatever, and he shook his own sadly, as he thought of its limitations.
“It only wants a little artfulness, Will-yum,” he suggested, encouragingly.
“Get hold of him and make him drunk for three days,” murmured Mr. Green, in a voice so low that he half hoped Joe would not hear it.
“And then boil ’im,” said the indignant seaman, without looking round. “Ah! Here he comes. Now you’ve got to be astonished, mind; but don’t make a noise, in case it fetches the young lady up.”
He pointed to the stairs, and his friend, going to his side, saw a passenger just stepping into a boat. The two men then turned away until, at sight of Captain Flower’s head appearing above the side, they went off into such silent manifestations of horror and astonishment that he feared for their reason.
“It’s ’is voice,” said Joe, hastily, as Flower bawled out to them with inconsiderate loudness. “I never thought to see you ag’in, sir; I ’eard you was drowned months and months ago.”
He took the captain’s proffered hand somewhat awkwardly, and stood closely scanning him. The visitor was bronzed with southern suns, and looked strong and well. His eye was bright and his manner retained all its old easy confidence.