“There’s one comfort,” she said
to the depressed Mr. Tasker. “I’ve
got you, Joseph. They can’t take you away
from me.”
“There’s nobody could do that,”
responded Mr. Tasker, with a sigh of resignation.
“And if I had to choose,” continued Miss
Vickers, putting her arm round his waist, “I’d
sooner have you than a hundred thousand pounds.”
Mr. Tasker sighed again at the idea of an article
estimated at so high a figure passing into the possession
of Selina Vickers. In a voice broken with emotion
he urged her to persevere in her claims to a fortune
which he felt would alone make his fate tolerable.
The unsuspecting Selina promised.
“She’ll quiet down in time,” said
Captain Bowers to Mr. Chalk, after the latter had
been followed nearly all the way to Dialstone Lane
by Miss Vickers, airing her grievance and calling
upon him to remedy it. “Once she realizes
the fact that the ship is lost, she’ll be all
right.”
Mr. Chalk looked unconvinced. “She doesn’t
want to realize it,” he said, shaking his head.
“She’ll be all right in time,” repeated
the captain; “and after all, you know,”
he added, with gentle severity, “you deserve
to suffer a little. You had no business with
that map.”
On a fine afternoon towards the end of the following
month Captain Brisket and Mr. Duckett sat outside
the Swan and Bottle Inn, Holemouth, a small port forty
miles distant from Biddlecombe. The day was fine,
with just a touch of crispness in the air to indicate
the waning of the year, and, despite a position regarded
by the gloomy Mr. Duckett as teeming with perils,
the captain turned a bright and confident eye on the
Fair Emily, anchored in the harbour.
“We ought to have gone straight to Biddlecombe,”
said Mr. Duckett, following his glance; “it
would have looked better. Not that anything’ll
make much difference.”
“And everybody in a flutter of excitement telegraphing
off to the owners,” commented the captain.
“No, we’ll tell our story first; quiet
and comfortable-like. Say it over again.”
“I’ve said it three times,” objected
Mr. Duckett; “and each time it sounds more unreal
than ever.”
“It’ll be all right,” said Brisket,
puffing at his cigar. “Besides, we’ve
got no choice. It’s that or ruin, and there’s
nobody within thousands of miles to contradict us.
We bring both the ship and the map back to ’em.
What more can they ask?”
[Illustration: “‘It’ll be all
right,’ said Brisket, puffing at his cigar.”]
“You’ll soon know,” said the pessimistic
Mr. Duckett. “I wonder whether they’ll
have another shot for the treasure when they get that
map back?” “I should like to send that
Captain Bowers out searching for it,” said Brisket,
scowling, “and keep him out there till he finds
it. It’s all his fault. If it hadn’t
been for his cock-and-bull story we shouldn’t
ha’ done what we did. Hanging’s too
good for him.”
