The Skippers Wooing | Page 4

his turn.
"No," said Henry shortly, "I couldn't. I don't mind having what you're
going to have."
The mate grinned, and, leading the way in, ordered refreshment for two,
exchanging a pleasant wink with the proprietor as that humorist drew
the lad's half-pint in a quart pot.
"Ain't you goin' to blow the head off, sir?" inquired the landlord as
Henry, after glancing darkly into the depths and nodding to the mate,
buried his small face in the pewter. "You'll get your moustache all
mussed up if you don't."
The boy withdrew his face, and, wiping his mouth with the back of his
hand, regarded the offender closely. "So long as it don't turn it red I
don't mind," he said patiently, "and I don't think as 'ow your swipes
would hurt anythin'."
He went out, followed by the mate, leaving the landlord wiping down
the counter with one hand while he mechanically stroked his moustache
with the other. By the time a suitable retort occurred to him the couple
were out of earshot.
CHAPTER II.
Captain Wilson, hot with the combined effects of exercise and wrath,

continued the pursuit, but the pause to say sweet nothings to the second
in command was fatal to his success. He had often before had occasion
to comment ruefully upon the pace of the quarry, and especially at such
times when he felt that he had strung his courage almost up to speaking
point. To-day he was just in time to see her vanish into the front garden
of a small house, upon the door of which she knocked with expressive
vigor. She disappeared into the house just as he reached the gate.
"Damn the mate!" he said irritably--"and the boy," he added, anxious to
be strictly impartial.
He walked on aimlessly at a slow pace until the houses ended and the
road became a lane shaded with tall trees and flanked by hawthorn
hedges. Along this he walked a little way, and then, nervously fingering
a note in his jacket pocket, retraced his steps.
"I'll see her and speak to her anyway," he muttered. "Here goes."
He walked slowly back to the house, and, with his heart thumping, and
a choking sensation in his throat, walked up to the door and gave a little
whisper of a knock upon it. It was so faint that, after waiting a
considerable time, he concluded that it had not been heard, and raised
the knocker again. Then the door opened suddenly, and the knocker,
half detained in his grasp, slipped from his fingers and fell with a crash
that made him tremble at his hardihood. An elderly woman with white
hair opened the door. She repressed a start and looked at him
inquiringly.
"Cap'n Jackson in?" inquired the skipper, his nerves thoroughly upset
by the knocker.
"Who?" said the other.
"Cap'n Jackson," repeated the skipper, reddening.
"There is no such man here," said the old woman. "Are you sure it is
Captain Jackson you want?" she added.

"I'm--I'm not sure," said Wilson truthfully.
The old woman looked at him eagerly. "Will you come in?" she said
slowly, and, without giving him time to refuse, led the way into the
small front room. The skipper followed her with the conscience of a fox
invited into a poultry yard, and bringing up in the doorway, gazed
uncomfortably at the girl who had risen at his entrance.
"This gentleman is inquiring for a Captain Jackson," said the old
woman, turning to the girl. "I thought he--he doesn't seem quite sure
whether it is Captain Jackson he wants--he may bring news," she
concluded incoherently.
"It's not likely, mother," said the girl, regarding the adventurous
mariner by no means favorably. "There is no Captain Jackson here,
sir."
"Have you been looking for him long?" inquired the mother.
"Years and years," said the other, forgetting himself.
The old woman sighed sympathetically. "Won't you sit down?" she
said.
"Thank you," said the skipper, and took the edge of the sofa.
"You're not quite certain of the name?" suggested the girl coldly.
"It--it sounded like Jackson," murmured the intruder in a small, modest
voice. "It might have been Blackson, or Dackson, or even Snackson--I
won't swear to it."
The old woman put her hand to her brow. "I thought perhaps you might
have brought me some news of my poor husband," she said at length. "I
lost him some years ago, and when you came here inquiring for a
seafaring man I thought you might somehow have brought news."
"You must see, mother, that this gentleman is looking for somebody
else," said the girl; "you are hindering him from finding Captain

Jackson."
"If he's been looking for him for years," said the old woman, bridling
mildly, "a few minutes will not make much difference."
"Certainly not,"