LITMIR.BIZ

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his neck from the hangman’s slip knot. The consequence was that he wore a shirt-collar up to his eyebrows for concealment by day, and a pillow-case over his head at night, and his wife said she was a deceived unhappy woman, and died of curiosity.

      The talking of even such nonsense as this was a relief to us in our impatience and helplessness, with the lights of land heaving far distant to our fretful sight through the cabin windows.

      When we had to talk reasonably we were not so successful. Captain Welsh was one of those men who show you, whether you care to see them or not, all the processes by which they arrive at an idea of you, upon which they forthwith shape their course. Thus, when he came to us in the cabin, he took the oil-lamp in his hand and examined our faces by its light; he had no reply to our remonstrances and petitions: all he said was, ‘Humph! well, I suppose you’re both gentlemen born’; and he insisted on prosecuting his scrutiny without any reference to the tenour of our observations.

      We entreated him half imperiously to bring his ship to and put us on shore in a boat. He bunched up his mouth, remarking, ‘Know their grammar: habit o’ speaking to grooms, eh? humph.’ We offered to pay largely. ‘Loose o’ their cash,’ was his comment, and so on; and he was the more exasperating to us because he did not look an evil-minded man; only he appeared to be cursed with an evil opinion of us. I tried to remove it; I spoke forbearingly. Temple, imitating me, was sugar-sweet. We exonerated the captain from blame, excused him for his error, named the case a mistake on both sides. That long sleep of ours, we said, was really something laughable; we laughed at the recollection of it, a lamentable piece of merriment.

      Our artfulness and patience becoming exhausted, for the captain had vouchsafed us no direct answer, I said at last, ‘Captain Welsh, here we are on board your ship will you tell us what you mean to do with us?’

      He now said bluntly, ‘I will.’

      ‘You’ll behave like a man of honour,’ said I, and to that he cried vehemently, ‘I will.’

      ‘Well, then,’ said I, ‘call out the boat, if you please; we’re anxious to be home.’

      ‘So you shall!’ the captain shouted, ‘and per ship—my barque Priscilla; and better men than you left, or I ‘m no Christian.’

      Temple said briskly, ‘Thank you, captain.’

      ‘You may wait awhile with that, my lad,’ he answered; and, to our astonishment, recommended us to go and clean our faces and prepare to drink some tea at his table.

      ‘Thank you very much, captain, we’ll do that when we ‘re on shore,’ said we.

      ‘You’ll have black figure-heads and empty gizzards, then, by that time,’ he remarked. We beheld him turning over the leaves of a Bible.

      Now, this sight of the Bible gave me a sense of personal security, and a notion of hypocrisy in his conduct as well; and perceiving that we had conjectured falsely as to his meaning to cast us on shore per ship, his barque Priscilla, I burst out in great heat, ‘What! we are prisoners? You dare to detain us?’

      Temple chimed in, in a similar strain. Fairly enraged, we flung at him without anything of what I thought eloquence.

      The captain ruminated up and down the columns of his Bible.

      I was stung to feel that we were like two small terriers baiting a huge mild bull. At last he said, ‘The story of the Prodigal Son.’

      ‘Oh!’ groaned Temple, at the mention of this worn-out old fellow, who has gone in harness to tracts ever since he ate the fatted calf.

      But the captain never heeded his interruption.

      ‘Young gentlemen, I’ve finished it while you ‘ve been barking at me. If I ‘d had him early in life on board my vessel, I hope I’m not presumptuous in saying—the Lord forgive me if I be so!—I’d have stopped his downward career—ay, so!—with a trip in the right direction. The Lord, young gentlemen, has not thrown you into my hands for no purpose whatsoever. Thank him on your knees to-night, and thank Joseph Double, my mate, when you rise, for he was the instrument of saving you from bad company. If this was a vessel where you ‘d hear an oath or smell the smell of liquor, I ‘d have let you run when there was terra firma within stone’s throw. I came on board, I found you both asleep, with those marks of dissipation round your eyes, and I swore—in the Lord’s name, mind you—I’d help pluck you out of the pit while you had none but one leg in. It’s said! It’s no use barking. I am not to be roused. The devil in me is chained by the waist, and a twenty-pound weight on his tongue. With your assistance I’ll do the same for the devil in you. Since you’ve had plenty of sleep, I ‘ll trouble you to commit to memory the whole story of the Prodigal Son ‘twixt now and morrow’s sunrise. We ‘ll have our commentary on it after labour done. Labour you will in my vessel, for your soul’s health. And let me advise you not to talk; in your situation talking’s temptation to lying. You’ll do me the obligation to feed at my table. And when I hand you back to your parents, why, they’ll thank me, if you won’t. But it’s not thanks I look for: it’s my bounden Christian duty I look to. I reckon a couple o’ stray lambs equal to one lost sheep.’

      The captain uplifted his arm, ejaculating solemnly, ‘By!’ and faltered. ‘You were going to swear!’ said Temple, with savage disdain.

      ‘By the blessing of Omnipotence! I’ll save a pair o’ pups from turning wolves. And I’m a weak mortal man, that ‘s too true.’

      ‘He was going to swear,’ Temple muttered to me.

      I considered the detection of Captain Welsh’s hypocrisy unnecessary, almost a condescension toward familiarity; but the ire in my bosom was boiling so that I found it impossible to roll out the flood of eloquence with which I was big. Soon after, I was trying to bribe the man with all my money and my watch.

      ‘Who gave you that watch?’ said he.

      ‘Downright Church catechism!’ muttered Temple.

      ‘My grandfather,’ said I.

      The captain’s head went like a mechanical hammer, to express something indescribable.

      ‘My grandfather,’ I continued, ‘will pay you handsomely for any service you do to me and my friend.’

      ‘Now, that’s not far off forgoing,’ said the captain, in a tone as much as to say we were bad all over.

      I saw the waters slide by his cabin-windows. My desolation, my humiliation, my chained fury, tumbled together. Out it came—

      ‘Captain, do behave to us like a gentleman, and you shall never repent it. Our relatives will be miserable about us. They—captain!—they don’t know where we are. We haven’t even a change of clothes. Of course we know we’re at your mercy, but do behave like an honest man. You shall be paid or not, just as you please, for putting us on shore, but we shall be eternally grateful to you. Of course you mean kindly to us; we see that—’

      ‘I thank the Lord for it!’ he interposed.

      ‘Only you really are under a delusion. It ‘s extraordinary. You can’t be quite in your right senses about us; you must be—I don’t mean to speak disrespectfully-what we call on shore, cracked about us....

      ‘Doddered, don’t they say in one of the shires?’ he remarked.

      Half-encouraged, and in the belief that I might be getting eloquent, I appealed to his manliness. Why should he take advantage of a couple of boys? I struck the key of his possible fatherly feelings: What misery were not our friends suffering now. (‘Ay, a bucketful now saves an ocean in time to come!’ he flung in his word.) I bade him, with more pathetic dignity reflect on the dreadful hiatus in our studies.

      ‘Is that Latin or Greek?’ he asked.

      I would not reply to the cold-blooded question. He said the New Testament was written in Greek, he knew, and happy were those who could read it in the original.

      ‘Well, and how can we be learning to read it on board ship?’ said Temple, an observation that exasperated me because it seemed more to the point than my lengthy speech, and betrayed that he thought

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