The Lady of the Barge and Others, Entire Collection. William Wymark Jacobs
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know, and added that Ted had been like it before, but he had not told her for fear of frightening her. Then he tried to induce her to go with him to the chemist’s to get something for it.
Mrs. Gibbs shook her head firmly, and boarding the barge, took a seat on the hatch and proceeded to catechise her brother as to his symptoms. He denied that there was anything the matter with him, while his eyes openly sought those of Captain Gibbs as though asking for instruction.
“You come home, Ted,” she said at length.
“I can’t,” said the mate. “I can’t leave the ship.”
“Why not?” demanded his sister.
“Ask John,” said the mate again.
At this Mrs. Gibbs’s temper, which had been rising, gave way altogether, and she stamped fiercely upon the deck. A stamp of the foot has been for all time a rough-and-ready means of signalling; the fore-scuttle was drawn back, and the face of a young and pretty girl appeared framed in the opening. The mate raised his eyebrows with a helpless gesture, and as for the unfortunate skipper, any jury would have found him guilty without leaving the box. The wife of his bosom, with a flaming visage, turned and regarded him.
“You villain!” she said, in a choking voice.
Captain Gibbs caught his breath and looked appealingly at the mate.
“It’s a little surprise for you, my dear,” he faltered, “it’s Ted’s young lady.”
“Nothing of the kind,” said the mate, sharply.
“It’s not? How dare you say such a thing?” demanded Miss Harris, stepping on to the deck.
“Well, you brought her aboard, Ted, you know you did,” pleaded the unhappy skipper.
The mate did not deny it, but his face was so full of grief and surprise that the other’s heart sank within him.
“All right,” said the mate at last; “have it your own way.”
“Hold your tongue, Ted,” shouted Mrs. Gibbs; “you’re trying to shield him.”
“I tell you Ted brought her aboard, and they had a lover’s quarrel,” said her unhappy spouse. “It’s nothing to do with me at all.”
“And that’s why you told me Ted had got the toothache, and tried to get me off to the chemist’s, I s’pose,” retorted his wife, with virulence. “Do you think I’m a fool? How dare you ask a young woman on this barge? How dare you?”
“I didn’t ask her,” said her husband.
“I s’pose she came without being asked,” sneered his wife, turning her regards to the passenger; “she looks the sort that might. You brazen-faced girl!”
“Here, go easy, Loo,” interrupted the mate, flushing as he saw the girl’s pale face.
“Mind your own business,” said his sister, violently.
“It is my business,” said the repentant mate. “I brought her aboard, and then we quarrelled.”
“I’ve no doubt,” said his sister, bitterly; “it’s very pretty, but it won’t do.”
“I swear it’s the truth,” said the mate.
“Why did John keep it so quiet and hide her for, then?” demanded his sister.
“I came down for the trip,” said Miss Harris; “that is all about it. There is nothing to make a fuss about. How much is it, Captain Gibbs?”
She produced a little purse from her pocket, but before the embarrassed skipper could reply, his infuriated wife struck it out of her hand. The mate sprang instinctively forward, but too late, and the purse fell with a splash into the water. The girl gave a faint cry and clasped her hands.
“How am I to get back?” she gasped.
“I’ll see to that, Lucy,” said the mate. “I’m very sorry—I’ve been a brute.”
“You?” said the indignant girl. “I would sooner drown myself than be beholden to you.”
“I’m very sorry,” repeated the mate, humbly.
“There’s enough of this play-acting,” interposed Mrs. Gibbs. “Get off this barge.”
“You stay where you are,” said the mate, authoritatively.
“Send that girl off this barge,” screamed Mrs. Gibbs to her husband.
Captain Gibbs smiled in a silly fashion and scratched his head. “Where is she to go?” he asked feebly.
“Wh’at does it matter to you where she goes?” cried his wife, fiercely. “Send her off.”
The girl eyed her haughtily, and repulsing the mate as he strove to detain her, stepped to the side. Then she paused as he suddenly threw off his coat, and sitting down on the hatch, hastily removed his boots. The skipper, divining his intentions, seized him by the arm.
“Don’t be a fool, Ted,” he gasped; “you’ll get under the barge.”
The mate shook him off, and went in with a splash which half drowned his adviser. Miss Harris, clasping her hands, ran to the side and gazed fearfully at the spot where he had disappeared, while his sister in a terrible voice seized the opportunity to point out to her husband the probably fatal results of his ill-doing. There was an anxious interval, and then the mate’s head appeared above the water, and after a breathing-space disappeared again. The skipper, watching uneasily, stood by with a lifebelt.
“Come out, Ted,” screamed his sister as he came up for breath again.
The mate disappeared once more, but coming up for the third time, hung on to the side of the barge to recover a bit. A clothed man in the water savours of disaster and looks alarming. Miss Harris began to cry.
“You’ll be drowned,” she whimpered.
“Come out,” said Mrs. Gibbs, in a raspy voice. She knelt on the deck and twined her fingers in his hair. The mate addressed her in terms rendered brotherly by pain.
“Never mind about the purse,” sobbed Miss Harris; “it doesn’t matter.”
“Will you make it up if I come out, then,” demanded the diver.
“No; I’ll never speak to you again as long as I live,” said the girl, passionately.
The mate disappeared again. This time he was out of sight longer than usual, and when he came up merely tossed his arms weakly and went down again. There was a scream from the women, and a mighty splash as the skipper went overboard with a life-belt. The mate’s head, black and shining, showed for a moment; the skipper grabbed him by the hair and towed him to the barge’s side, and in the midst of a considerable hubbub both men were drawn from the water.
The skipper shook himself like a dog, but the mate lay on the deck inert in a puddle of water. Mrs. Gibbs frantically slapped his hands; and Miss Harris, bending over him, rendered first aid by kissing him wildly.
Captain Gibbs pushed her away. “He won’t come round while you’re a-kissing of him,” he cried, roughly.
To his indignant surprise the drowned man opened one eye and winked acquiescence. The skipper dropped his arms by his side and stared at him stupidly.
“I saw his eyelid twitch,” cried Mrs. Gibbs, joyfully.
“He’s all right,” said her indignant husband; “‘e ain’t born to be drowned, ‘e ain’t. I’ve spoilt a good suit of clothes for nothing.”
To his wife’s amazement, he actually walked away from the insensible man, and with a boathook reached for his hat, which was floating by. Mrs. Gibbs, still gazing in blank astonishment, caught a seraphic smile on the face of her brother as Miss Harris continued her ministrations, and in a pardonable fit of temper the overwrought woman gave him a box on the ear, which brought him round at once.
“Where am I?” he inquired, artlessly.
Mrs.