Many Cargoes

“Pot o’ stout, bottle o’ gin, and two long pipes,” said he, as the boy came to the door and eyed the ex-pilot curiously.

At all these honest preparations for his welcome the heart of Jackson grew faint within him.

“Well, I call it good of you to come all this way to see me,” said the captain, after the boy had disappeared; “but you always was warm-hearted, Pepper. And how’s the missis?”

“Shocking!” said Pepper, with a groan.

“Ill?” inquired the captain.

“Ill-tempered,” said Pepper. “In fact, cap’n, I don’t mind telling you, she’s killing me—slowly killing me!”

“Pooh!” said Crippen. “Nonsense! You don’t know how to manage her!”

“I thought perhaps you could advise me,” said the artful Pepper. “I said to myself yesterday, ‘Pepper, go and see Cap’n Crippen. What he don’t know about wimmen and their management ain’t worth knowing! If there’s anybody can get you out of a hole, it’s him. He’s got the power, and, what’s more, he’s got the will!’”

“What causes the temper?” inquired the captain, with his most judicial air, as he took the liquor from his messenger and carefully filled a couple of glasses.

“It’s natural!” said his friend ruefully. “She calls it having a high spirit herself. And she’s so generous. She’s got a married niece living in the place, and when that gal comes round and admires the things—my things—she gives ‘em to her! She gave her a sofa the other day, and, what’s more, she made me help the gal to carry it home!”

“Have you tried being sarcastic?” inquired the captain thoughtfully.

“I have,” said Pepper, with a shiver. “The other day I said, very nasty, ‘Is there anything else you’d like, my dear?’ but she didn’t understand it.”

“No?” said the captain.

“No,” said Pepper. “She said I was very kind, and she’d like the clock; and, what’s more, she had it too! Red-’aired hussy!”

The captain poured out some gin and drank it slowly. It was evident he was thinking deeply, and that he was much affected by his friend’s troubles.

“There is only one way for me to get clear,” said Pepper, as he finished a thrilling recital of his wrongs, “and that is, to find Cap’n Budd, her first.”

“Why, he’s dead!” said Crippen, staring hard. “Don’t you waste your time looking for him!”

“I’m not going to,” said Pepper; “but here’s his portrait. He was a big man like you; he had blue eyes and a straight handsome nose, like you. If he’d lived to now he’d be almost your age, and very likely more like you than ever. He was a sailor; you’ve been a sailor.”

The captain stared at him in bewilderment.

“He had a wonderful way with wimmen,” pursued Jackson hastily; “you’ve got a wonderful way with wimmen. More than that, you’ve got the most wonderful gift for acting I’ve ever seen. Ever since the time when you acted in that barn at Bristol I’ve never seen any actor I can honestly say I’ve liked—never! Look how you can imitate cats—better than Henry Irving himself!”

“I never had much chance, being at sea all my life,” said Crippen modestly.

“You’ve got the gift,” said Pepper impressively. “It was born in you, and you’ll never leave off acting till the day of your death. You couldn’t if you tried—you know you couldn’t!”

The captain smiled deprecatingly.

“Now, I want you to do a performance for my benefit,” continued Pepper. “I want you to act Cap’n Budd, what was lost in the Dolphin thirty years ago. There’s only one man in England I’d trust with the part, and that’s you.”

“Act Cap’n Budd!” gasped the astonished Crippen, putting down his glass and staring at his friend.

“The part is written here,” said the ex-pilot, producing a note-book from his breast pocket and holding it out to his friend. “I’ve been keeping a log day by day of all the things she said about him, in the hopes of catching her tripping, but I never did. There’s notes of his family, his ships, and a lot of silly things he used to say, which she thinks funny.”

“I couldn’t do it!” said the captain seriously, as he took the book.

“You could do it if you liked,” said Pepper. “Besides, think what a spree it’ll be for you. Learn it by heart, then come down and claim her. Her name’s Martha.”

“What good ‘ud it do you if I did?” inquired the captain. “She’d soon find out!”

“You come down to Sunset Bay,” said Pepper, emphasising his remarks with his forefinger; “you claim your wife; you allude carefully to the things set down in this book; I give Martha back to you and bless you both. Then”—

“Then what?” inquired Crippen anxiously.

“You disappear!” concluded Pepper triumphantly; “and, of course, believing her first husband is alive, she has to leave me. She’s a very particular woman; and, besides that, I’d take care to let the neighbours know. I’m happy, you’re happy, and, if she’s not happy, why, she don’t deserve to be.”

“I’ll think it over,” said Crippen, “and write and let you know.”

“Make up your mind now,” urged Pepper, reaching over and patting him encouragingly upon the shoulder. “If you promise to do it, the thing’s as good as done. Lord! I think I see you now, coming in at that door and surprising her. Talk about acting!”

“Is she what you’d call a good-looking woman?” inquired Crippen.

“Very handsome!” said Pepper, looking out of the window.

“I couldn’t do it!” said the captain. “It wouldn’t be right and fair to her.”

“I don’t see that!” said Pepper. “I never ought to have married her without being certain her first was dead. It ain’t right, Crippen; say what you like, it ain’t right!”

“If you put it that way,” said the captain hesitatingly.

“Have some more gin,” said the artful pilot.

The captain had some more, and, what with flattery and gin, combined with the pleadings of his friend, began to consider the affair more favourably. Pepper stuck to his guns, and used them so well that when the captain saw him off that evening he was pledged up to the hilt to come down to Sunset Bay and personate the late Captain Budd on the following Thursday.

The ex-pilot passed the intervening days in a sort of trance, from which he only emerged to take nourishment, or answer the scoldings of his wife. On the eventful Thursday, however, his mood changed, and he went about in such a state of suppressed excitement that he could scarcely keep still.

“Lor’ bless me!” snapped Mrs. Pepper, as he slowly perambulated the parlour that afternoon. “What ails the man? Can’t you keep still for five minutes?”

The ex-pilot stopped and eyed her solemnly, but, ere he could reply, his heart gave a great bound, for, from behind the geraniums which filled the window, he saw the face of Captain Crippen slowly rise and peer cautiously into the room. Before his wife could follow the direction of her husband’s eyes it had disappeared.

“Somebody looking in at the window,” said Pepper, with forced calmness, in reply to his wife’s eyebrows.

“Like their impudence!” said the unconscious woman, resuming her knitting, while her husband waited in vain for the captain to enter.

He waited some time, and then, half dead with excitement, sat down, and with shaking fingers lit his pipe. As he looked up the stalwart figure of the captain passed the window. During the next twenty minutes it passed seven times, and Pepper, coming to the not unnatural conclusion that his friend intended to pass the afternoon in the same unprofitable fashion, resolved to force his hand.

“Must be a tramp,” he said aloud.

“Who?” inquired his wife. “Man keeps looking in at the window,” said Pepper desperately. “Keeps looking in till he meets my eye, then he disappears. Looks like an old sea-captain, something.”

“Old sea-captain?” said his wife, putting down her work and turning round. There was a strange hesitating note in her voice. She looked at the window, and at the same instant the head of the captain again appeared above the geraniums, and, meeting her gaze, hastily vanished. Martha Pepper sat still for a moment, and then, rising in a slow, dazed fashion, crossed to the door and opened it. Mermaid Passage was empty!