He resolved that he would keep his discovery to himself. It was an expensive luxury, but he determined to indulge in it, and months or years later perhaps he would allow the skipper to learn what he had lost by his overbearing brutality. Somewhat soothed by this idea, he fell asleep.
His determination, which was strong when he arose, weakened somewhat as the morning wore on. The skipper, who had thought no more of the matter after giving his hasty instructions to the cook, was in a soft and amiable mood, and, as Henry said to himself fifty times in the course of the morning, five pounds was five pounds. By the time ten o’clock came he could hold out no longer, and with a full sense of the favor he was about to confer, he approached the unconscious skipper.
Before he could speak he was startled by a commotion on the quay, and looking up, saw the cook, who had gone ashore for vegetables, coming full tilt towards the ship. He appeared to be laboring under strong excitement, and bumped passers-by and dropped cabbages with equal unconcern.
“What on earth’s the matter with the cook,” said the skipper, as the men suspended work to gaze on the approaching figure. “What’s wrong?” he demanded sharply, as the cook, giving a tremendous leap on board, rushed up and spluttered in his ear.
“What?” he repeated.
The cook, with his hand on his distressed chest, gasped for breath.
“Captain Gething!” panted the cook at last, recovering his breath with an effort. “Round the—corner.”
Almost as excited as the cook, the skipper sprang ashore and hurried along the quay with him, violently shaking off certain respectable citizens who sought to detain the cook, and ask him what he meant by it.
“I expect you’ve made a mistake,” said the skipper, as they rapidly reached the small street. “Don’t run—we shall have a crowd.”
“If it wasn’t ’im it was his twin brother,” said the cook. “Ah, there he is! That’s the man!”