The Skipper's Wooing, and The Brown Man's Servant Part 14

"Why, there ain't no such place," said the man. "It's just a saying in these parts, that's all."

"Just a wot?" said the bewildered Sam faintly.

"It's just a saying like," said the other, exchanging glances with his friends.

"I don't take you," said the cook. "How can a place be a sayin'?"

"Well, it come through a chap about here named Captain Piggott," said the fisherman, speaking slowly. "He was a wonderful queer old chap, and he got out of his reckoning once, and made-ah, South Amerikey, warn't it, Dan?"

"I believe so," said the old man.

"He thought he'd found a new island," continued the fisherman, "an' he went ash.o.r.e an' hoisted the Union Jack, and named it arter hisself, Piggott's Bay. Leastways that's the tale his chaps gave out when they come 'ome. Now when anybody's a bit out o' their reckoning we say they're looking for Piggott's Bay. It's just a joke about here."

He began to laugh again, and Sam, noting with regret that he was a big fellow and strong, turned away and followed in the footsteps of the cook, who had already commenced the ascent of the cliff. They paused at the top and looked back; Stone-pen Quay was still laughing.

Moved by a common idea of their personal safety, they struck inland, preferring an additional mile or two to encountering d.i.c.k. Conversation was at a discount, and they plodded on sulkily along the dusty road, their lips parched and their legs aching.

They got back to the Seamew at seven o'clock, and greeting Henry, who was in sole charge, with fair words and soothing compliments, persuaded him to make them some tea.

"Where's d.i.c.k?" inquired Sam casually as he sat drinking it.

"Ain't seen 'im since dinner," said the boy. "I thought he was with you p'raps."

Sam shook his head, and finis.h.i.+ng his tea went on deck with the cook, and gave himself up to all the delights of a quiet sprawl. Fatigued with their exertions, neither of them moved until nine o'clock, and then, with a farewell glance in the direction in which d.i.c.k might be expected to come, went below and turned in.

They left the lamp burning, to the great satisfaction of Henry, who was reading, and, as ten o'clock struck somewhere in the town, exchanged anxious glances across the foc'sle concerning d.i.c.k's safety. Safe and warm in their bunks, it struck both of them that they had been perhaps a little bit selfish. Half an hour later Henry looked up suddenly as something soft leaped on to the deck above and came pattering towards the foc'sle. The next moment his surprise gave way to indignation, and he raised his voice in tones of expostulation which Mrs. Grundy herself would have envied.

"d.i.c.k!" he cried shrilly. "d.i.c.k!"

"Shut up!" said d.i.c.k fiercely as he flung himself panting on a locker.

"O my Lord, I have had a time!"

"I'm surprised at you," said Henry severely, as he dragged some blankets from the bunks and threw them over the exhausted seaman. "Where's your modesty, d.i.c.k?"

"If you say another word I'll knock yer ugly little head off!" said d.i.c.k wrathfully. "If I hadn't been modest I should have come home by daylight. Oh, I have had a time! I have had a time!"

"Where's your clothes?" inquired Henry.

"How the devil should I know?" snapped the other. "I left 'em on the beach while I went for a swim, and when I comeback they'd gone. I've been sittin' on that d.a.m.ned cold s.h.i.+ngle since three o'clock this arternoon, and not a soul come near me! It's the first time I've been lookin' for Cap'n Gething, and it'll be the last."

"Oh, you've been at it, 'ave yer!" said Henry. "I told you you chaps would get in a mess over that."

"You know a d.a.m.ned sight too much for your age!" growled d.i.c.k. "There's no call to say anything to Sam and the cook about it, mind."

"Why not?" said Henry.

"Cos I say you're not to," said d.i.c.k ferociously. "That's why."

"P'raps they know," said Henry quietly. "Seems to me Sam's listenin' in his sleep."

d.i.c.k got up, and going to their bunks inspected the sleep of both his comrades cautiously. Then with a repet.i.tion of his caution, strengthened by fearful penalties for disobedience, went to his own bunk and forgot his troubles in sleep. He kept his secret all next day, but his bewilderment when he awoke on Tuesday morning and found the clothes in an untidy brown paper parcel lying on the deck led to its divulgence. He told both Sam and the cook about it, and his opinion of both men went up when he found that they did not treat the matter in the light of a joke, as he had feared. Neither of them even smiled, neither did they extend much sympathy; they listened apathetically, and so soon as he had finished, went straight off to sleep where they sat-a performance which they repeated at every opportunity throughout the whole of the day.

CHAPTER VIII.

The Seamew lay at c.o.c.klemouth another three days, in which time d.i.c.k, after a twelve-mile walk, learnt all there was to learn about Piggott's Bay. The second outrage was likely to have seriously injured his const.i.tution, but the silver lining of the cloud caught his eye just as he was closing it in sleep, and the tension was removed.

"I've been thinkin', Sam," he said next morning, "that I've been rather selfish over that syndikit business. I ought to 'ave joined it."

"You can please yourself," said Sam.

"But it's better late than never," said d.i.c.k, turning to the cook who had joined them. "I'm goin' to put you in the way of findin' Cap'n Gething."

The cook portrayed gratified surprise.

"I know for certain that he's livin' at a place called Piggott's Bay, a little place just up the coast here," continued d.i.c.k. "If you two chaps like to walk out this evening and find him you can have two quid apiece and just give me one for myself."

"Oh!" said Sam, and stood thunderstruck at his hardihood.

"But it wouldn't be fair to you, d.i.c.k," urged the cook. "We won't take no advantage of you. The five pounds is yours."

"I don't want it," said d.i.c.k earnestly. "I want to punish myself for being greedy. If you two 'll just go there and find him I'll take it as a favor."

"Oh, well, we'll go then," said the cook with deceitful joy.

"d.i.c.k's 'art's in the right place, cook," observed Sam. "We'd better get away directly arter tea."

"I'd like to shake you by the 'and, d.i.c.k," said the cook warmly.

"Me too," said Sam, taking it as the cook relinquished it. "You're a fair brick, d.i.c.k, an' no error."

"True blue," said the complimentary cook.

"We'll start directly arter tea, if you'll get us the flag, d.i.c.k," said Sam.

"Flag?" said d.i.c.k-"flag?"

"Why, yes, the Union Jack," said Sam, looking at him in simple surprise.

"It's no use going to Piggott's Bay without a Union Jack? Didn't you know that, d.i.c.k? Arter goin' there last night too!"

He stood in an easy att.i.tude waiting for an answer and gazed in clumsy surprise at d.i.c.k, as that arch-deceiver stamped his way down below in a fury. He even went so far as to pretend that d.i.c.k had gone down for the flag in question, and gingerly putting his head down the scuttle, said that a pair of bathing drawers would do if it was not forthcoming-a piece of pleasantry which he would willingly have withdrawn when the time came for him to meet d.i.c.k at dinner.

By the time they reached Northfleet again all interest in the search had practically ceased. For one thing it was an unpleasant thing for grown men to be exposed to the gibes of Henry, and for another, looking at it in the cold clear light of reason, they could but see that there was very little prospect of success. In the cabin pessimism was also to the front with the mate as its mouthpiece.