Short Cruises | Page 9

skipper, watching her and the cook until they disappeared in the traffic, walked slowly and thoughtfully to his ship.
The brig sailed the next evening at eight o'clock, and it was not until six that the cook remarked, in the most casual manner, that his sister was coming down to see him off. She arrived half an hour late, and, so far from wanting to see the cabin again, discovered an inconvenient love of fresh air. She came down at last, at the instance of the cook, and, once below, her mood changed, and she treated the skipper with a soft graciousness which raised him to the seventh heaven. "You'll be good to Bert, won't you?" she inquired, with a smile at that young man.
"I'll treat him like my own brother," said the skipper, fervently. "No, better than that; I'll treat him like your brother."
The cook sat erect and, the skipper being occupied with Miss Jewell, winked solemnly at the skylight.
"I know you will," said the girl, very softly; "but I don't think the men--"
"The men'll do as I wish," said the skipper, sternly. "I'm the master on this ship--she's half mine, too--and anybody who interferes with him interferes with me. If there's anything you don't like, Bert, you tell me."
Mr. Jewell, his small, black eyes sparkling, promised, and then, muttering something about his work, exchanged glances with the girl and went up on deck.
"It is a nice cabin," said Miss Jewell, shifting an inch and a half nearer to the skipper. "I suppose poor Bert has to have his meals in that stuffy little place at the other end of the ship, doesn't he?"
"The fo'c'sle?" said the skipper, struggling between love and discipline. "Yes."
The girl sighed, and the mate, who was listening at the skylight above, held his breath with anxiety. Miss Jewell sighed again and in an absent-minded fashion increased the distance between herself and companion by six inches.
"It's usual," faltered the skipper.
"Yes, of course," said the girl, coldly.
"But if Bert likes to feed here, he's welcome," said the skipper, desperately, "and he can sleep aft, too. The mate can say what he likes."
The mate rose and, walking forward, raised his clenched fists to heaven and availed himself of the permission to the fullest extent of a somewhat extensive vocabulary.
"Do you know what I think you are?" inquired Miss Jewell, bending towards him with a radiant face. "No," said the other, trembling. "What?"
The girl paused. "It wouldn't do to tell you," she said, in a low voice. "It might make you vain."
"Do you know what I think you are?" inquired the skipper in his turn.
Miss Jewell eyed him composedly, albeit the corners of her mouth trembled. "Yes," she said, unexpectedly.
Steps sounded above and came heavily down the companion-ladder. "Tide's almost on the turn," said the mate, gruffly, from the door.
The skipper hesitated, but the mate stood aside for the girl to pass, and he followed her up on deck and assisted her to the jetty. For hours afterwards he debated with himself whether she really had allowed her hand to stay in his a second or two longer than necessary, or whether unconscious muscular action on his part was responsible for the phenomenon.
He became despondent as they left London behind, but the necessity of interfering between a goggle-eyed and obtuse mate and a pallid but no less obstinate cook helped to relieve him.
"He says he is going to sleep aft," choked the mate, pointing to the cook's bedding.
"Quite right," said the skipper. "I told him to. He's going to take his meals here, too. Anything to say against it?"
The mate sat down on a locker and fought for breath. The cook, still pale, felt his small, black mustache and eyed him with triumphant malice. "I told 'im they was your orders," he remarked.
"And I told him I didn't believe him," said the mate. "Nobody would. Whoever 'eard of a cook living aft? Why, they'd laugh at the idea."
He laughed himself, but in a strangely mirthless fashion, and, afraid to trust himself, went up on deck and brooded savagely apart. Nor did he come down to breakfast until the skipper and cook had finished.
Mr. Jewell bore his new honors badly, and the inability to express their dissatisfaction by means of violence had a bad effect on the tempers of the crew. Sarcasm they did try, but at that the cook could more than hold his own, and, although the men doubted his ability at first, he was able to prove to them by actual experiment that he could cook worse than they supposed.
[Illustration: Sarcasm they did try 056]
The brig reached her destination--Creekhaven--on the fifth day, and Mr. Jewell found himself an honored guest at the skipper's cottage. It was a comfortable place, but, as the cook pointed out, too large