“Strong measures must be taken to get this man Gaffin and his son out of the way,” he remarked. “As soon as Harry returns we will see what can be done. In the meantime I will ride down to the cottage and ascertain that your young friend has reached it in safety, and will wait to escort her back.”
He soon caught sight of her at about half-way to Adam’s cottage. At the same moment a person resembling the man who had spoken to him on the previous night appeared and seemed about to address May, who quickened her pace, when catching sight of Headland he apparently thought better of it and advanced to meet him.
“Good-day, Captain Headland,” said the man, looking up at him with cool assurance. “Your friend, Mr Harry Castleton, will have a long chase after the lugger, a wild goose chase I suspect it will prove. I have been enquiring into the truth of the story you heard, and I find that it was spread by a wretched old mad woman whom the people about here take to be a witch. The sooner she is ducked in the sea, and proved to be an ordinary mortal who has lost her senses, the better. It is disagreeable for a man in my position to have his character belied in this way.”
“We certainly heard a story from a mad woman, but she spoke in a way which led us to suppose she described an actual occurrence,” said Headland. “From what you say I conclude you are Mr Gaffin who addressed me last night.”
“The same at your service, Captain Headland. I have no further questions to ask, however, since you can give me no account of my old shipmate; I am sorry to hear of his death; good-day to you, sir,” and Gaffin moved on, taking the direction of the mill.
This last interview left a still more unfavourable impression on Headland’s mind of Mr Miles Gaffin. He did not like the expression of the man’s countenance or the impudent swagger of his manner; while it was evident by the way he talked that he was a person of some education. Headland tried to recollect whether he had before seen him, or whether his old protector had ever mentioned his name.
As he rode on slowly, keeping May in sight, he suddenly recollected the description Jack Headland had given him of the mate of the ship on board which he had been placed by his supposed father, when a child. “Can that man in any way be connected with my history?” he thought. “He certainly must have known poor Jack Headland; he had some motive, possibly, in speaking of him.”
The more he thought the more puzzled he became. The only conclusion he arrived at was that Gaffin and the mate of the vessel in which he had been wrecked might possibly be one and the same person, and if so, from Jack’s account, he was undoubtedly a villain, capable of any crime.
Having seen May enter Halliburt’s cottage, he rode to the Texford Arms and put up his horse, resolving to wait in the neighbourhood till she should again come out. He would then have time to get back and mount his horse—which he told the hostler to keep saddled—and follow her.
He in the meantime took a few turns on the pier, and got into conversation with two or three of the old seafaring men who were standing about; the younger were at sea in their boats, or had gone home after the night’s fishing. He made enquiries about the man he had just met. They all repeated the same story; their opinion was that he had been a pirate or something of that sort on the Spanish main, or in other distant seas, and having for a wonder escaped, he had returned home to follow a more peaceful and less dangerous calling, though still in reality unreformed and quite ready to break the laws of his country. From the description they gave of his wife, Headland thought that she must have been an Oriental, and this strengthened his idea that he was the man of whom Jack had spoken. Had he enquired about the Halliburts he might have learned the particulars of May’s early history, but he still remained under the impression that she was a ward of the Miss Pembertons, and had merely come down to visit the dame as she would any other of the villagers suffering from sickness or sorrow.