“I’ll look after that,” said the skipper, reddening. “You must excuse me talkin’ to you now. I’m busy.”
Miss Cooper looked at him indignantly, and, biting her lip, turned away, and started a desperate flirtation with the mate, to punish him. Evans watched them with mingled feelings as he busied himself with various small jobs on the deck, his wrath being raised to boiling point by the behaviour of the cook, who, being a poor hand at disguising his feelings, came out of the galley several times to look at him.
From this incident a coolness sprang up between the skipper and the girl, which increased hourly. At times the skipper weakened, but the watchful mate was always on hand to prevent mischief. Owing to his fostering care Evans was generally busy, and always gruff; and Miss Cooper, who was used to the most assiduous attentions from him, knew not whether to be most bewildered or most indignant. Four times in one day did he remark in her hearing that a sailor’s ship was his sweetheart, while his treatment of his small prospective brother in-law, when he expostulated with him on the state of his wardrobe, filled that hitherto pampered youth with amazement. At last, on the fourth night out, as the little schooner was passing the coast of Cornwall, the mate came up to him as he was steering, and patted him heavily on the back.
“It’s all right, cap’n,” said he. “You’ve lost the prettiest little girl in England.”
“What?” said the skipper, in incredulous tones.
“Fact,” replied the other. “Here’s your ring back. I wouldn’t let her wear it any longer.”
“However did you do it?” inquired Evans, taking the ring in a dazed fashion.
“Oh, easy as possible,” said the mate. “She liked me best, that’s all.”
“But what did you say to her?” persisted Evans.
The other reflected.