“He’ll ’ave to,” said Mr.
Smith, who, having made up his mind for a little excitement,
was in no mind to lose it.
“I don’t believe he would,” said
the mate. “Look here!” he said, suddenly,
as he laid an affectionate arm on the old man’s
shoulder. “I know what we’ll do.”
“Well?” said Mr. Smith.
“I’ll save you,” said the
mate, with a smile of great relief.
“Save me?” said the puzzled Mr.
Smith, as his daughter uttered a faint cry. “How?”
“Just as I saved him,” said the other,
nodding. “You jump in, and after you’ve
sunk twice—same as he did—I’ll
dive in and save you. At any rate I’ll
do my best; I promise you I won’t come ashore
without you.”
Mr. Smith hastily flung off the encircling arm and
retired a few paces inland. “’Ave you—ever
been—in a lunatic asylum at any time?”
he inquired, as soon as he could speak.
“No,” said the mate, gravely.
“Neither ’ave I,” said Mr. Smith;
“and, what’s more, I’m not going.”
He took a deep breath and stood simmering. Miss
Smith came forward and, with a smothered giggle, took
the mate’s arm and squeezed it.
“It’ll have to be Arthur again, then,”
said the latter, in a resigned voice.
“Me?” cried Mr. Heard, with a start.
“Yes, you!” said the mate, in a decided
voice. “After what you said just now I’m
not going in without saving somebody. It would
be no good. Come on, in you go.”
“He couldn’t speak fairer than that, Arthur,”
said Mr. Smith, dispassionately, as he came forward
again.
“But I tell you he can’t swim,”
protested Mr. Heard, “not properly. He
didn’t swim last time; I told you so.”
“Never mind; we know what you said,” retorted
the mate. “All you’ve got to do is
to jump in and I’ll follow and save you—same
as I did the other night.”
“Go on, Arthur,” said Mr. Smith, encouragingly.
“It ain’t cold.”
“I tell you he can’t swim,” repeated
Mr. Heard, passionately. “I should be drownded
before your eyes.”
[Illustration: “‘I tell you he can’t
swim,’ repeated Mr. Heard, passionately.”]
“Rubbish,” said Mr. Smith. “Why,
I believe you’re afraid.”
“I should be drownded, I tell you,” said
Mr. Heard. “He wouldn’t come in after
me.”
“Yes, he would,” said Mr. Smith, passing
a muscular arm round the mate’s waist; “’cos
the moment you’re overboard I’ll drop ’im
in. Are you ready?”
He stood embracing the mate and waiting, but Mr. Heard,
with an infuriated exclamation, walked away.
A parting glance showed him that the old man had released
the mate, and that the latter was now embracing Miss
Smith.
[Illustration: IN THE FAMILY]
The oldest inhabitant of Claybury sat beneath the
sign of the “Cauliflower” and gazed with
affectionate, but dim, old eyes in the direction of
the village street.
