At Sunwich Port | Page 4

attend at Equator Lodge, and the
moment he set eyes upon that piece of probity embarked upon such a
vilification of his personal defects and character as Mr. Wilks had
never even dreamt of. He wound up by ordering him to rejoin the ship
forthwith.
"Arsking your pardon, sir," said Mr. Wilks, with tender reproach, "but I
couldn't."
"Are you going to live on your mother, you hulking rascal?" quoth the

incensed captain.
"No, sir," said Mr. Wilks. "I've got a little money, sir; enough for my
few wants till we sail again."
"When I sail again you won't come with me," said the captain, grimly.
"I suppose you want an excuse for a soak ashore for six months!"
Mr. Wilks twiddled his cap in his hands and smiled weakly.
"I thought p'r'aps as you'd like me to come round and wait at table, and
help with the knives and boots and such-like," he said, softly. "Ann is
agreeable."
"Get out of the house," said the captain in quiet, measured tones.
Mr. Wilks went, but on his way to the gate he picked up three pieces of
paper which had blown into the garden, weeded two pieces of grass
from the path, and carefully removed a dead branch from a laurel
facing the window. He would have done more but for an imperative
knocking on the glass, and he left the premises sadly, putting his
collection of rubbish over the next garden fence as he passed it.
But the next day the captain's boots bore such a polish that he was able
to view his own startled face in them, and at dinner-time the brightness
of the knives was so conspicuous that Mrs. Kingdom called Ann in for
the purpose of asking her why she didn't always do them like that. Her
brother ate his meal in silence, and going to his room afterwards
discovered every pair of boots he possessed, headed by the tall
sea-boots, standing in a nicely graduated line by the wall, and all
shining their hardest.
For two days did Mr. Wilks do good by stealth, leaving Ann to blush to
find it fame; but on the third day at dinner, as the captain took up his
knife and fork to carve, he became aware of a shadow standing behind
his chair. A shadow in a blue coat with metal buttons, which, whipping
up the first plate carved, carried it to Mrs. Kingdom, and then leaned
against her with the vegetable dishes.

The dishes clattered a little on his arm as he helped the captain, but the
latter, after an impressive pause and a vain attempt to catch the eye of
Mr. Wilks, which was intent upon things afar off, took up the spoon
and helped himself. From the unwonted silence of Miss Nugent in the
presence of anything unusual it was clear to him that the whole thing
had been carefully arranged. He ate in silence, and a resolution to kick
Mr. Wilks off the premises vanished before the comfort, to say nothing
of the dignity, afforded by his presence. Mr. Wilks, somewhat
reassured, favoured Miss Nugent with a wink to which, although she
had devoted much time in trying to acquire the art, she endeavoured in
vain to respond.
It was on the day following this that Jack Nugent, at his sister's
instigation, made an attempt to avenge the family honour. Miss Nugent,
although she treated him with scant courtesy herself, had a touching
faith in his prowess, a faith partly due to her brother occasionally
showing her his bicep muscles in moments of exaltation.
"There's that horrid Jem Hardy," she said, suddenly, as they walked
along the road.
"So it is," said Master Nugent, but without any display of enthusiasm.
"Halloa, Jack," shouted Master Hardy across the road.
"The suspense became painful."
"Halloa," responded the other.
"He's going to fight you," shrilled Miss Nugent, who thought these
amenities ill-timed; "he said so."
Master Hardy crossed the road. "What for?" he demanded, with
surprise.
"Because you're a nasty, horrid boy," replied Miss Nugent, drawing
herself up.

"Oh," said Master Hardy, blankly.
The two gentlemen stood regarding each other with uneasy grins; the
lady stood by in breathless expectation. The suspense became painful.
[Illustration: "The suspense became painful."]
"Who are you staring at?" demanded Master Nugent, at last.
"You," replied the other; "who are you staring at?"
"You," said Master Nugent, defiantly.
There was a long interval, both gentlemen experiencing some difficulty
in working up sufficient heat for the engagement.
"You hit me and see what you'll get," said Master Hardy, at length.
"You hit me," said the other.
"Cowardy, cowardy custard," chanted the well-bred Miss Nugent, "ate
his mother's mustard. Cowardy, cowardy cus--"
"Why don't you send that kid home?" demanded Master Hardy, eyeing
the fair songstress