The Skippers Wooing | Page 6

said the old lady, "Captain Gething. If you should see him,
and would tell him that he has nothing to fear, and that his wife and his
daughter Annis are dying to see him, you will have done what I can
never, never properly thank you for."
"I'll do my best," said the other warmly. "Good-afternoon."
He shook hands with the old woman, and then, standing with his hands
by his side, looked doubtfully at Annis.
"Good-afternoon," she said cheerfully.
Mrs. Gething showed him to the door.
"Any time you are at Gravesend, captain, we shall be pleased to see
you and hear how you get on," she said as she let him out.
The captain thanked her, pausing at the gate to glance covertly at the
window; but the girl was bending over her work again, and he walked
away rapidly.
Until he had reached his ship and was sitting down to his belated dinner
he had almost forgotten, in the joyful excitement of having something
to do for Miss Gething, the fact that she was engaged to another man.
As he remembered this he pushed his plate from him, and, leaning his
head on his hand, gave way to a fit of deep melancholy. He took the
photograph from his pocket, and, gazing at it intently, tried to discover
a likeness between the father and daughter. There was not sufficient to
warrant him in bestowing a chaste salute upon it.
"What do you think o' that?" he inquired, handing it over to the mate,
who had been watching him curiously.
"Any friend o' yours?" inquired the mate, cautiously.
"No," said the other.
"Well, I don't think much of him," said the mate. "Where d'you get it?"

"It was given to me," said the skipper. "He's missing, and I've got to
find him if I can. You might as well keep your eyes open too."
"Where are you going to look for him?" asked the mate.
"Everywhere," said the other. "I'm told that he's likely to be in a seaport
town, and if you'll be on the look-out I'll take it as a favor."
"I'll do that, o' course," said the mate. "What's he been doing?"
"Nothing that I know of," said the skipper; "but he's been missing some
five years, and I promised I'd do my best to find him."
"Friends are anxious, I s'pose?" said the mate.
"Yes," said the other.
"I always find," continued the mate, "that women are more anxious in
these sort o' cases than men."
"More tender-hearted," said the skipper.
"It ain't a bad sort o' face, now I come to look at it," said the baffled
mate, regarding it closely. "Seems to me I've seen somebody very much
like it--a girl, I think--but I can't say where."
"Bearded lady at a fair, I should think," said the skipper bluffly.
Conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Henry, who, seeing
the photograph in the mate's hand, at once began putting the butter
away. A glance told him that the mate was holding it upside down, and
conscience told him that this was for his benefit. He therefore rigidly
averted his gaze while clearing the table, and in a small mental ledger,
which he kept with scrupulous care for items such as these, made a
debit entry in the mate's account.
"Boy," said the skipper suddenly.
"Sir," said Henry.

"You're a fairly sharp youngster, I think," said the skipper. "Take hold
o' that photo there."
Henry's face suffused with a great joy. He looked derisively at the mate
and took the photograph from him, listening intently to much the same
instructions as had been previously given to the mate. "And you can
take it for'ard," concluded the skipper, "and let the men see it."
"The men?" said Henry in astonishment.
"Yes, the men; don't I speak plain?" retorted the skipper.
"Very plain, sir," said the boy; "but they'll only make a muddle of it, sir.
Fancy fat Sam and the cook and Dick!"
"Do as you're told!" said the other irascibly.
"O' course, sir," said Henry, "but they'll only worry me with a lot o'
questions as to who 'e is an' wot you want 'im for."
"You take it for'ard," said the skipper, "and tell them there's a couple of
sovereigns for the first man that finds him."
The youth took the photograph, and after another careful scrutiny, with
the object of getting a start in the race for wealth, took it forward. Fat
Sam, it seemed, had seen the very man only two days before at Poplar;
the cook knew his features as well as he knew those of his own mother,
while Dick had known him for years as an old and respected inhabitant
of Plymouth. Henry went back to the skipper, and,