At Sunwich Port, Complete. William Wymark Jacobs

Mr. Wilks, hurriedly; “the cap’n is like that sometimes.”

      “I knew a man once, Miss,” said Ann, “as used to prefer to ‘ave it in a wash-hand basin. Odd, ugly-looking man ‘e was; like Mr. Wilks in the face, only better-looking.”

      Mr. Wilks sat upright and, in the mental struggle involved in taking in this insult in all its ramifications, did not notice until too late that Miss Nugent had filled his glass again.

      “It must ha’ been nice for the captain to ‘ave you with ‘im to-day,” remarked Ann, carelessly.

      “It was,” said Mr. Wilks, pausing with the glass at his lips and eyeing her sternly. “Eighteen years I’ve bin with ‘im—ever since ‘e ‘ad a ship. ‘E took a fancy to me the fust time ‘e set eyes on me.”

      “Were you better-looking then, Sam?” inquired Miss Nugent, shuffling closer to him on the table and regarding him affectionately.

      “Much as I am now, Miss,” replied Mr. Wilks, setting down his glass and regarding Ann’s giggles with a cold eye.

      Miss Nugent sighed. “I love you, Sam,” she said, simply. “Will you have some more beer?”

      Mr. Wilks declined gracefully. “Eighteen years I’ve bin with the cap’n,” he remarked, softly; “through calms and storms, fair weather and foul, Samson Wilks ‘as been by ‘is side, always ready in a quiet and ‘umble way to do ‘is best for ‘im, and now—now that ‘e is on his beam-ends and lost ‘is ship, Samson Wilks’ll sit down and starve ashore till he gets another.”

      At these touching words Miss Nugent was undisguisedly affected, and wiping her bright eyes with her pinafore, gave her small, well-shaped nose a slight touch en passant with the same useful garment, and squeezed his arm affectionately.

      “It’s a lively look-out for me if father is going to be at home for long,” remarked Master Nugent. “Who’ll get his ship, Sam?”

      “Shouldn’t wonder if the fust officer, Mr. Hardy, got it,” replied the steward. “He was going dead-slow in the fog afore he sent down to rouse your father, and as soon as your father came on deck ‘e went at ‘arfspeed. Mr. Hardy was commended, and your father’s certifikit was suspended for six months.”

      Master Nugent whistled thoughtfully, and quitting the kitchen proceeded upstairs to his room, and first washing himself with unusual care for a boy of thirteen, put on a clean collar and brushed his hair. He was not going to provide a suspended master-mariner with any obvious reasons for fault-finding. While he was thus occupied the sitting-room bell rang, and Ann, answering it, left Mr. Wilks in the kitchen listening with some trepidation to the conversation.

      “Is that steward of mine still in the kitchen?” demanded the captain, gruffly.

      “Yessir,” said Ann.

      “What’s he doing?”

      Mr. Wilks’s ears quivered anxiously, and he eyed with unwonted disfavour the evidences of his late debauch.

      “Sitting down, sir,” replied Ann.

      “Give him a glass of ale and send him off,” commanded the captain; “and if that was Miss Kate I heard talking, send her in to me.”

      Ann took the message back to the kitchen and, with the air of a martyr engaged upon an unpleasant task, drew Mr. Wilks another glass of ale and stood over him with well-affected wonder while he drank it. Miss Nugent walked into the sitting-room, and listening in a perfunctory fashion to a shipmaster’s platitude on kitchen-company, took a seat on his knee and kissed his ear.

      CHAPTER II

      The downfall of Captain Nugent was for some time a welcome subject of conversation in marine circles at Sunwich. At The Goblets, a rambling old inn with paved courtyard and wooden galleries, which almost backed on to the churchyard, brother-captains attributed it to an error of judgment; at the Two Schooners on the quay the profanest of sailormen readily attributed it to an all-seeing Providence with a dislike of over-bearing ship-masters.

      The captain’s cup was filled to the brim by the promotion of his first officer to the command of the Conqueror. It was by far the largest craft which sailed from the port of Sunwich, and its master held a corresponding dignity amongst the captains of lesser vessels. Their allegiance was now transferred to Captain Hardy, and the master of a brig which was in the last stages of senile decay, meeting Nugent in The Goblets, actually showed him by means of two lucifer matches how the collision might have been avoided.

      A touching feature in the business, and a source of much gratification to Mr. Wilks by the sentimental applause evoked by it, was his renunciation of the post of steward on the ss. Conqueror. Sunwich buzzed with the tidings that after eighteen years’ service with Captain Nugent he preferred starvation ashore to serving under another master. Although comfortable in pocket and known to be living with his mother, who kept a small general shop, he was regarded as a man on the brink of starvation. Pints were thrust upon him, and the tale of his nobility increased with much narration. It was considered that the whole race of stewards had acquired fresh lustre from his action.

      His only unfavourable critic was the erring captain himself. He sent a peremptory summons to Mr. Wilks to 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