Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake. Fenn George Manville

up from his berth to find us full-handed and well on our way.”

      “Is he lying down, then?” said the captain.

      “Yes, I persuaded him to go, as he was the watch again to-night. The fellow is ill with worry and anxiety, and we can’t afford to have him knocked up. You’ll start, then, at once.”

      “In a quarter of an hour or so,” said Captain Studwick. “Here’s a large barque coming up, and we may as well let her clear us first.”

      Giving the word to the mate, the first half-dozen men were called up, and a couple of sails made ready for hoisting, so as to give steerage way, and the motions of the dimly-seen barque were watched.

      “I don’t want her to run foul of us,” said the captain, “for if she did, I should be ready to swear that it was one of the Cuban’s plans.”

      “Hardly,” replied Mr Parkley. “If any fresh hindrance is to come to us, it will be from the shore. If you take my advice, you will not let a boat approach the ship to-night.”

      “I don’t mean to,” said the captain. “All right, she’ll give us a pretty good wide berth. Hallo! What’s that?” he said, crossing over to port.

      “Boat from the shore, sir,” said one of the men; and at the same moment came a hail out of the darkness.

      “Ahoy there! Heave us a rope.”

      Oakum stepped forward, and was about to cast a rope down, when the captain stayed him.

      “What is it?” he said sharply. “Keep off, or you may have something through your planks;” and as he spoke he peered down into the boat. “Here, Jones, keep a sharp look-out on the other side, and see that no boat comes up.”

      “Is that Captain Studwick?” said a woman’s voice.

      “Yes, and what then?” said the captain. “Now, it won’t do. The trick’s too clear. How many have you in that boat?”

      “No one but myself,” replied the same voice. “Pray, pray let me come on board.”

      “Who are you, and what do you want?” exclaimed the captain. “Quick! I’ve no time to waste.”

      “Let her come on board,” cried Mr Parkley, hastily. “Don’t you know her?” he whispered; “it’s Mrs Pugh.” Then leaning over the side – “Hester, my child, is that you?”

      “Yes,” was the hoarse reply. “Mr Parkley, for Heaven’s sake, take me on board.”

      “There, I told you so,” exclaimed Mr Parkley; “let down the steps.”

      “I tell you it’s some ruse of that cursed Cuban,” cried the captain, angrily. “If you give way we shall be stopped again. Keep that boat off below there.”

      “No, no!” cried Mr Parkley. “Stop. Studwick, I take the responsibility on myself. Oakum, lower the steps, and throw that rope.”

      “Ay, ay, sir,” said the old sailor. “Am I to do it?” he continued to the captain.

      “Yes, if he wishes it,” was the testy reply; and then in a low voice he said to the mate, “Slip the hawser, and haul up the jib and staysail. I’m going to the wheel.”

      His orders were rapidly executed, and the long, graceful vessel began almost imperceptibly to move through the water.

      “If it is any trick,” said the captain, as he went aft to the man he had stationed at the wheel, “it shall take place at sea. What’s that?”

      He turned back instantly, for at that moment what sounded like a slight scuffle was heard by the gangway he had left.

      Story 1-Chapter XI.

      In Bessy’s Cabin

      So determined was Captain Studwick not to be lightly trifled with that a pistol was in his hand as he ran back to the side, but his alarm was unnecessary, for the scuffling noise was caused merely by Mr Parkley catching their visitor as she tottered and nearly fell on the deck.

      “Let me see my husband, Mr Parkley,” she moaned, “for pity’s sake let me see my husband. If I saw him and spoke to him, he would listen to me.”

      “But, my dear child,” began Mr Parkley.

      “I shall die if I do not see him,” she moaned again. “I have been so ill – I have suffered so much, and this evening the news came that he was going away – away without seeing me. Oh, God, what have I done that I should suffer so!”

      “My dear child – my dear Mrs Pugh.”

      “I must see him – pray, pray take me to him,” she sobbed, “it is more than I can – more than I can bear.”

      Mr Parkley caught her again just in time, for she swooned away, and laying her upon the deck he tried hard to restore her. Then looking up he became aware that the lights of the town were fast receding.

      “Why, Studwick,” he exclaimed, “the schooner’s moving.”

      “Yes,” said the captain.

      “But the boat this poor girl came off in?”

      “Ashore by this time.”

      “But we can’t take her. Hang it, man, we cannot have domestic differences on board. She must go back.”

      “We must now land her at Plymouth,” said the captain. “Send for my Bessy, man, she will soon bring her to. How foolish of the little woman to come aboard.”

      “Shall I fetch the young lady, sir?” said Sam Oakum gruffly, as he stood with a look of disgust upon his face.

      “Yes, for goodness’ sake, do. Quick!” exclaimed Mr Parkley, whose efforts to restore animation were all in vain.

      Just as Sam went aft, though, Mrs Pugh began to revive, stared wildly about, and sitting up saw the captain bending over her.

      “Captain Studwick,” she cried, catching his hand and drawing herself upon her knees to cling to him, “don’t send me back – don’t send me away. Let me go too. I could not bear to part from my husband like this. He is angry with me,” she whispered, “I cannot tell you why, but he has not spoken to me for days, and I have been so – so ill.”

      “Yes, yes, you shall see him, my dear, but stand up. You must not make a scene.”

      “Oh no,” she exclaimed, rising hastily, “I will do anything you say, only let me see him and explain. Let me go with, you. If I could talk to him he would believe me, and all would be well again. If not,” she said with a hysterical cry, “I shall go mad – I shall go mad.”

      “Come, let me take you below,” said the captain, for she was clinging tightly to his arm.

      “Yes, yes,” whispered the poor trembling woman. “I could not help that; I am trying so hard to be calm, but my poor breast is so care-laden that a cry would escape. Let me go with you, Captain Studwick. I will be so quiet – so careful.”

      “It is impossible, my dear child,” he said in a husky voice, for her agony affected him.

      “No, no, don’t say that; I will help Bessy nurse your poor son. She loves me, and believes in me, and I will give no trouble. If you set me ashore I shall die of grief. I cannot live to be separated from my husband – for him to leave me like this.”

      “Well, well, well, I’ll see what I can do,” said the captain in the quieting way that one would speak to a child; but she peered instantly into his face.

      “You are deceiving me,” she cried. “You are trying to calm me with promises, and you mean to set me ashore. Mr Parkley,” she wailed, turning to him, “you know me, and believe in me: you know the cause of this trouble. Take me to my dear husband, and help me to drive away this horrible belief of his, or I shall die.”

      “My dear child – my dear child,” he said, drawing her to him, “I will try all I can.”

      “But you will set me ashore again