PEBBLESEA was dull, and Mr. Frederick Dix, mate of the ketch Starfish,after a long and unsuccessful quest for amusement, returned to theharbor with an idea of forgetting his disappointment in sleep. The fewshops in the High Street were closed, and the only entertainment offeredat the taverns was contained in glass and pewter. The attitude of thelandlord of the "Pilots' Hope," where Mr. Dix had sought to enliven theproceedings by a song and dance, still rankled in his memory.
The skipper and the hands were still ashore and the ketch looked solonely that the mate, thinking better of his idea of retiring, thrusthis hands deep in his pockets and sauntered round the harbor. It wasnearly dark, and the only other man visible stood at the edge of thequay gazing at the water. He stood for so long that the mate's easilyaroused curiosity awoke, and, after twice passing, he edged up to himand ventured a remark on the fineness of the night.
"The night's all right," said the young man, gloomily.
"You're rather near the edge," said the mate, after a pause.
"I like being near the edge," was the reply.
Mr. Dix whistled softly and, glancing up at the tall, white-faced youngman before him, pushed his cap back and scratched his head.
"Ain't got anything on your mind, have you?" he inquired.
The young man groaned and turned away, and the mate, scenting a littleexcitement, took him gently by the coat-sleeve and led him from thebrink. Sympathy begets confidence, and, within the next ten minutes, hehad learned that Arthur Heard, rejected by Emma Smith, was contemplatingthe awful crime of self-destruction.
"Why, I've known 'er for seven years," said Mr. Heard; "seven years, andthis is the end of it."
The mate shook his head.
"I told 'er I was coming straight away to drownd myself," pursued Mr.Heard. "My last words to 'er was, 'When you see my bloated corpse you'llbe sorry.'"
"I expect she'll cry and carry on like anything," said the mate,politely.
The other turned and regarded him. "Why, you don't think I'm going to,do you?" he inquired, sharply. "Why, I wouldn't drownd myself for fiftyblooming gells."
"But what did you tell her you were going to for, then?" demanded thepuzzled mate.
"'Cos I thought it would upset 'er and make 'er give way," said theother, bitterly; "and all it done was to make 'er laugh as though she'd'ave a fit."
"It would serve her jolly well right if you did drown yourself," saidMr. Dix, judiciously. "It 'ud spoil her life for her."
"Ah, and it wouldn't spoil mine, I s'pose?" rejoined Mr. Heard, withferocious sarcasm.
"How she will laugh when she sees you to-morrow," mused the mate. "Isshe the sort of girl that would spread it about?"
Mr. Heard said that she was, and, forgetting for a moment his greatlove, referred to her partiality for gossip in the most scathing termshe could muster. The mate, averse to such a tame ending to a promisingadventure, eyed him thoughtfully.
"Why not just go in and out again," he said, seductively, "and run toher house all dripping wet?"
"That would be clever, wouldn't it?" said the ungracious Mr. Heard."Starting to commit suicide, and then thinking better of it. Why, Ishould be a bigger laughing-stock than ever."
"But suppose I saved you against your will?" breathed the tempter; "howwould that be?"
"It would be all right if I cared to run the risk," said the other, "butI don't. I should look well struggling in the water while you was divingin the wrong places for me, shouldn't I?"
"I wasn't thinking of such a thing," said Mr. Dix, hastily; "twentystrokes is about my mark--with my clothes off. My idea was to pull youout."
Mr. Heard glanced at the black water a dozen feet below. "How?" heinquired, shortly.
"Not here," said the mate. "Come to the end of the quay where the groundslopes to the water. It's shallow there, and you can tell her that youjumped in off here. She won't know the difference."
With an enthusiasm which Mr. Heard made no attempt to share, he led theway to the place indicated, and dilating upon its manifold advantages,urged him to go in at once and get it over.
"You couldn't have a better night for it," he said, briskly. "Why, itmakes me feel like a dip myself to look at it."
Mr. Heard gave a surly grunt, and after testing the temperature of thewater with his hand, slowly and reluctantly immersed one foot. Then,with sudden resolution, he waded in and, ducking his head, stood upgasping.
"Give yourself a good soaking while you're about it," said the delightedmate.
Mr. Heard ducked again, and once more emerging stumbled towards thebank.
"Pull me out," he cried, sharply.
Mr. Dix, smiling indulgently, extended his hands, which Mr. Heard seizedwith the proverbial grasp of a drowning man.
"All right, take it easy, don't get excited," said the smiling mate,"four foot of water won't hurt anyone. If--Here! Let go o' me, d'yehear? Let go! If you don't let go I'll punch your head."
"You couldn't save me against my will without coming in," said Mr.Heard. "Now we can tell 'er you dived in off the quay and got me just asI was sinking for the last time. You'll be a hero."
The mate's remarks about heroes were mercifully cut short. He was threestone lighter than Mr. Heard, and standing on shelving ground. Thelat-ter's victory was so sudden that he over-balanced, and only acommotion at the surface of the water showed where they had disappeared.Mr. Heard was first up and out, but almost immediately the figure of themate, who had gone under with his mouth open, emerged from the water andcrawled ashore.
"You--wait--till I--get my breath back," he gasped.
"There's no ill-feeling, I 'ope?" said Mr. Heard, anxiously. "I'll telleverybody of your bravery. Don't spoil everything for the sake of alittle temper."
Mr. Dix stood up and clinched his fists, but at the spectacle of thedripping, forlorn figure before him his wrath vanished and he broke intoa hearty laugh.
"Come on, mate," he said, clapping him on the back, "now let's go andfind Emma. If she don't fall in love with you now she never will. My eyeI you are a picture!"
He began to walk towards the town, and Mr. Heard, with his legs wideapart and his arms held stiffly from his body, waddled along beside him,Two little streamlets followed.
They walked along the quay in silence, and had nearly reached the end ofit, when the figure of a man turned the corner of the houses andadvanced at a shambling trot towards them.
"Old Smith!" said Mr. Heard, in a hasty whisper. "Now, be careful. Holdme tight."
The new-comer thankfully dropped into a walk as he saw them, and came toa standstill with a cry of astonishment as the light of a neighboringlamp revealed their miserable condition.
"Wot, Arthur!" he exclaimed.
"Halloa," said Mr. Heard, drearily.
"The idea o' your being so sinful," said Mr. Smith, severely. "Emma toldme wot you said, but I never thought as you'd got the pluck to go and doit. I'm surprised at you."
"I ain't done it," said Mr. Heard, in a sullen voice; "nobody can drowndthemselves in comfort with a lot of interfering people about."
Mr. Smith turned and gazed at the mate, and a broad beam of admirationshone in his face as he grasped that gentleman's hand. "Come into the'ouse both of you and get some dry clothes," he said, warmly.
He thrust his strong, thick-set figure between them, and with a hand oneach coat-collar propelled them in the direction of home. The matemuttered something about going back to his ship, but Mr. Smith refusedto listen, and stopping at the door of a neat cottage, turned the handleand thrust his dripping charges over the threshold of a comfortablesitting-room.
A pleasant-faced woman of middle age and pretty girl of twenty rose attheir entrance, and a faint scream fell pleasantly upon the ears of Mr.Heard.
"Here he is," bawled Mr. Smith; "just saved at the last moment."
"What, two of them?" exclaimed Miss Smith, with a faint note ofgratification in her voice. Her gaze fell on the mate, and she smiledapprovingly.
"No; this one ju
mped in and saved 'im," said her father.
"Oh, Arthur!" said Miss Smith. "How could you be so wicked! I neverdreamt you'd go and do such a thing--never! I didn't think you'd got itin you."
Mr. Heard grinned sheepishly. "I told you I would," he muttered.
"Don't stand talking here," said Mrs. Smith, gazing at the puddle whichwas growing in the centre of the carpet; "they'll catch cold. Take 'emupstairs and give 'em some dry clothes. And I'll bring some hot whiskyand water up to 'em."
"Rum is best," said Mr. Smith, herding his charges and driving them upthe small staircase. "Send young Joe for some. Send up three glasses."
They disappeared upstairs, and Joe appearing at that moment from thekitchen, was hastily sent off to the "Blue Jay" for the rum. A couple ofcurious neighbors helped him to carry it back, and, standing modestlyjust inside the door, ventured on a few skilled directions as to itspreparation. After which, with an eye on Miss Smith, they stood andconversed, mostly in head-shakes.
Stimulated by the rum and the energetic Mr. Smith, the men were not longin changing. Preceded by their host, they came down to the sitting-roomagain; Mr. Heard with as desperate and unrepentant an air as he couldassume, and Mr. Dix trying to conceal his uneasiness by taking greatinterest in a suit of clothes three sizes too large for him.
"They was both as near drownded as could be," said Mr. Smith, lookinground; "he ses Arthur fought like a madman to prevent 'imself from beingsaved."
"It was nothing, really," said the mate, in an almost inaudible voice,as he met Miss Smith's admiring gaze.
"Listen to 'im," said the delighted Mr. Smith; "all brave men are likethat. That's wot's made us Englishmen wot we are."
"I don't suppose he knew who it was he was saving," said a voice fromthe door.
"I didn't want to be saved," said Mr. Heard defiantly.
"Well, you can easy do it again, Arthur," said the same voice; "the dockwon't run away."
Mr. Heard started and eyed the speaker with same malevolence.
"Tell us all about it," said Miss Smith, gazing at the mate, with herhands clasped. "Did you see him jump in?"
Mr. Dix shook his head and looked at Mr. Heard for guidance. "N--notexactly," he stammered; "I was just taking a stroll round the harborbefore turning in, when all of a sudden I heard a cry for help--"
"No you didn't," broke in Mr. Heard, fiercely.
"Well, it sounded like it," said the mate, somewhat taken aback.
"I don't care what it sounded like," said the other. "I didn't say it.It was the last thing I should 'ave called out. I didn't want to besaved."
"P'r'aps he cried 'Emma,'" said the voice from the door.
"Might ha' been that," admitted the mate. "Well, when I heard it I ranto the edge and looked down at the water, and at first I couldn't seeanything. Then I saw what I took to be a dog, but, knowing that dogscan't cry 'help!'--"
"Emma," corrected Mr. Heard.
"Emma," said the mate, "I just put my hands up and dived in. When I cameto the surface I struck out for him and tried to seize him from behind,but before I could do so he put his arms round my neck like--like--"
"Like as if it was Emma's," suggested the voice by the door.
Miss Smith rose with majestic dignity and confronted the speaker. "Andwho asked you in here, George Harris?" she inquired, coldly.
"I see the door open," stammered Mr. Harris--"I see the door open and Ithought--"
"If you look again you'll see the handle," said Miss Smith.
Mr. Harris looked, and, opening the door with extreme care, meltedslowly from a gaze too terrible for human endurance.
"We went down like a stone," continued the mate, as Miss Smith resumedher seat and smiled at him. "When we came up he tried to get away again.I think we went down again a few more times, but I ain't sure. Then wecrawled out; leastways I did, and pulled him after me."
"He might have drowned you," said Miss Smith, with a severe glance ather unfortunate admirer. "And it's my belief that he tumbled in afterall, and when you thought he was struggling to get away he wasstruggling to be saved. That's more like him."
"Well, they're all right now," said Mr. Smith, as Mr. Heard broke inwith some vehemence. "And this chap's going to 'ave the Royal Society'smedal for it, or I'll know the reason why."
"No, no," said the mate, hurriedly; "I wouldn't take it, I couldn'tthink of it."
"Take it or leave it," said Mr. Smith; "but I'm going to the police totry and get it for you. I know the inspector a bit."
"I can't take it," said the horrified mate; "it--it--besides, don't yousee, if this isn't kept quiet Mr. Heard will be locked up for trying tocommit suicide."
"So he would be," said the other man from his post by the door; "he'squite right."
"And I'd sooner lose fifty medals," said Mr. Dix. "What's the good of mesaving him for that?"
A murmur of admiration at the mate's extraordinary nobility of characterjarred harshly on the ears of Mr. Heard. Most persistent of all was thevoice of Miss Smith, and hardly able to endure things quietly, he satand watched the tender glances which passed between her and Mr. Dix.Miss Smith, conscious at last of his regards, turned and looked at him.
"You could say you tumbled in, Arthur, and then he would get the medal,"she said, softly.
"Say!" shouted the overwrought Mr. Heard. "Say I tum--"
Words failed him. He stood swaying and regarding the company for amoment, and then, flinging open the door, closed it behind him with abang that made the house tremble.
The mate followed half an hour later, escorted to the ship by the entireSmith family. Fortified by the presence of Miss Smith, he pointed outthe exact scene of the rescue without a tremor, and, when her fathernarrated the affair to the skipper, whom they found sitting on decksmoking a last pipe, listened undismayed to that astonished mariner'scomments.
News of the mate's heroic conduct became general the next day, and workon the ketch was somewhat impeded in consequence. It became a point ofhonor with Mr. Heard's fellow-townsmen to allude to the affair as anaccident, but the romantic nature of the transaction was wellunderstood, and full credit given to Mr. Dix for his self-denial in thematter of the medal. Small boys followed him in the street, and halfPebblesea knew when he paid a visit to the Smith's, and discussed hischances. Two nights afterwards, when he and Miss Smith went for a walkin the loneliest spot they could find, conversation turned almostentirely upon the over-crowded condition of the British Isles.
The Starfish was away for three weeks, but the little town no longerlooked dull to the mate as she entered the harbor one evening and glidedslowly towards her old berth. Emma Smith was waiting to see the shipcome in, and his taste for all other amusements had temporarilydisappeared.
For two or three days the course of true love ran perfectly smooth;then, like a dark shadow, the figure of Arthur Heard was thrown acrossits path. It haunted the quay, hung about the house, and cropped upunexpectedly in the most distant solitudes. It came up behind the mateone evening just as he left the ship and walked beside him in silence.
"Halloa," said the mate, at last.
"Halloa," said Mr. Heard. "Going to see Emma?"
"I'm going to see Miss Smith," said the mate.
Mr. Heard laughed; a forced, mirthless laugh.
"And we don't want you following us about," said Mr. Dix, sharply. "Ifit'll ease your mind, and do you any good to know, you never had achance She told me so."
"I sha'n't follow you," said Mr. Heard; "it's your last evening, soyou'd better make the most of it."
He turned on his heel, and the mate, pondering on his last words, wentthoughtfully on to the house.
Amid the distraction of pleasant society and a long walk, the matterpassed from his mind, and he only remembered it at nine o'clock thatevening as a knock sounded on the door and the sallow face of Mr. Heardwas thrust into the room.
"Good-evening all," said the intruder.
"Evening, Arthur," said Mr. Smith, affably.
Mr. Heard with a melancholy countenance entered the room and closed thedoor gently behind him. Then he coughed slightly and shook his head.
"Anything the matter, Arthur?" inquired Mr. Smith, somewhat disturbed bythese, manifestations.
"I've got something on my mind," said Mr. Heard, with a diabolicalglance at the mate--"something wot's been worrying me for a long time.I've been deceiving you."
"That was always your failing, Arthur--deceit-fulness," said Mrs. Smith."I remember--"
"We've both been deceiving you," interrupted Mr. Heard, loudly. "Ididn't jump into the harbor the other night, and I didn't tumble in, andMr. Fred Dix didn't jump in after me; we just went to the end of theharbor and walked in and wetted ourselves."
There was a moment's intense silence and all eyes turned on the mate.The latter met them boldly.
"It's a habit o' mine to walk into the water and spoil my clothes forthe sake of people I've never met before," he said, with a laugh.
"For shame, Arthur!" said Mr. Smith, with a huge sigh of relief.
"'Ow can you?" said Mrs. Smith.
"Arthur's been asleep since then," said the mate, still smiling. "Allthe same, the next time he jumps in he can get out by himself."
Mr. Heard, raising his voice, entered into a minute description of theaffair, but in vain. Mr. Smith, rising to his feet, denounced hisingratitude in language which was seldom allowed to pass unchallenged inthe presence of his wife, while that lady contributed examples ofdeceitfulness in the past of Mr. Heard, which he strove in vain torefute, Meanwhile, her daughter patted the mate's hand.
"It's a bit too thin, Arthur," said the latter, with a mocking smile;"try something better next time."
"Very well," said Mr. Heard, in quieter tones; "I dare you to come alongto the harbor and jump in, just as you are, where you said you jumped inafter me. They'll soon see who's telling the truth."
"He'll do that," said Mr. Smith, with conviction.
For a fraction of a second Mr. Dix hesitated, then, with a steady glanceat Miss Smith, he sprang to his feet and accepted the challenge. Mrs.Smith besought him not to be foolish, and, with a vague idea ofdissuading him, told him a slanderous anecdote concerning Mr. Heard'saunt. Her daughter gazed at the mate with proud confidence, and, takinghis arm, bade her mother to get some dry clothes ready and led the wayto the harbor.
The night was fine but dark, and a chill breeze blew up from the sea.Twice the hapless mate thought of backing out, but a glance at MissSmith's profile and the tender pressure of her arm deterred him. Thetide was running out and he had a faint hope that he might keep afloatlong enough to be washed ashore alive. He talked rapidly, and his laughrang across the water. Arrived at the spot they stopped, and Miss Smithlooking down into the darkness was unable to repress a shiver.
"Be careful, Fred," she said, laying her hand upon his arm.
The mate looked at her oddly. "All right," he said, gayly, "I'll be outalmost before I'm in. You run back to the house and help your mother getthe dry clothes ready for me."
His tones were so confident, and his laugh so buoyant, that Mr. Heard,who had been fully expecting him to withdraw from the affair, began tofeel that he had under-rated his swimming powers. "Just jumping in andswimming out again is not quite the same as saving a drownding man," hesaid, with a sneer.
In a flash the mate saw a chance of escape.
"Why, there's no satisfying you," he said, slowly. "If I do go in I cansee that you won't own up that you've been lying."
"He'll 'ave to," said Mr. Smith, who, having made up his mind for alittle 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. "Iknow 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 faintcry. "How?"
"Just as I saved him," said the other, nodding. "You jump in, and afteryou've sunk twice--same as he did--I'll dive in and save you. At anyrate 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 pacesinland. "'Ave you--ever been--in a lunatic asylum at any time?" heinquired, 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 resignedvoice.
"Me?" cried Mr. Heard, with a start.
"Yes, you!" said the mate, in a decided voice. "After what you said justnow I'm not going in without saving somebody. It would be no good. Comeon, 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. Hedidn't swim last time; I told you so."
"Never mind; we know what you said," retorted the mate. "All you've gotto do is to jump in and I'll follow and save you--same as I did theother night."
"Go on, Arthur," said Mr. Smith, encouragingly. "It ain't cold."
"I tell you he can't swim," repeated Mr. Heard, passionately. "I shouldbe drownded before your eyes."
"Rubbish," said Mr. Smith. "Why, I believe you're afraid."
"I should be drownded, I tell you," said Mr. Heard. "He wouldn't come inafter me."
"Yes, he would," said Mr. Smith, passing a muscular arm round the mate'swaist; "'cos the moment you're overboard I'll drop 'im in. Are youready?"
He stood embracing the mate and waiting, but Mr. Heard, with aninfuriated exclamation, walked away. A parting glance showed him thatthe old man had released the mate, and that the latter was now embracingMiss Smith.
IN THE FAMILY