



Produced by David Widger




AT SUNWICH PORT

BY

W. W. JACOBS

Part 4.



ILLUSTRATIONS

From Drawings by Will Owen





CHAPTER XVI

The two ladies received Mr. Hardy's information with something akin to
consternation, the idea of the autocrat of Equator Lodge as a stowaway on
board the ship of his ancient enemy proving too serious for ordinary
comment.  Mrs. Kingdom's usual expressions of surprise, "Well, I never
did!" and "Good gracious alive!" died on her lips, and she sat gazing
helpless and round-eyed at her niece.

"I wonder what he said," she gasped, at last.

Miss Nugent, who was trying to imagine her father in his new role aboard
the Conqueror, paid no heed.  It was not a pleasant idea, and her eyes
flashed with temper as she thought of it.  Sooner or later the whole
affair would be public property.

"I had an idea all along that he wasn't in London," murmured Mrs.
Kingdom.  "Fancy that Nathan Smith standing in Sam's room telling us
falsehoods like that!  He never even blushed."

"But you said that you kept picturing father walking about the streets of
London, wrestling with his pride and trying to make up his mind to come
home again," said her niece, maliciously.

Mrs. Kingdom fidgeted, but before she could think of a satisfactory reply
Bella came to the door and asked to speak to her for a moment.  Profiting
by her absence, Mr. Hardy leaned towards Miss Nugent, and in a low voice
expressed his sorrow at the mishap to her father and his firm conviction
that everything that could be thought of for that unfortunate mariner's
comfort would be done.  "Our fathers will probably come back good
friends," he concluded.  "There is nothing would give me more pleasure
than that, and I think that we had better begin and set them a good
example."

"It is no good setting an example to people who are hundreds of miles
away," said the matter-of-fact Miss Nugent.  "Besides, if they have made
friends, they don't want an example set them."

"But in that case they have set us an example which we ought to follow,"
urged Hardy.

Miss Nugent raised her eyes to his.  "Why do you wish to be on friendly
terms?" she asked, with disconcerting composure.

[Illustration: "'Why do you wish to be on friendly terms?' she asked."]

"I should like to know your father," returned Hardy, with perfect
gravity; "and Mrs. Kingdom--and you."

He eyed her steadily as he spoke, and Miss Nugent, despite her utmost
efforts, realized with some indignation that a faint tinge of colour was
creeping into her cheeks.  She remembered his covert challenge at their
last interview at Mr. Wilks's, and the necessity of reading this
persistent young man a stern lesson came to her with all the force of a
public duty.

"Why?" she inquired, softly, as she lowered her eyes and assumed a
pensive expression.

"I admire him, for one thing, as a fine seaman," said Hardy.

"Yes," said Miss Nugent, "and--"

"And I've always had a great liking for Mrs. Kingdom," he continued; "she
was very good-natured to me when I was a very small boy, I remember.  She
is very kind and amiable."

The baffled Miss Nugent stole a glance at him.  "And--" she said again,
very softly.

"And very motherly," said Hardy, without moving a muscle.

Miss Nugent pondered and stole another glance at him.  The expression of
his face was ingenuous, not to say simple.  She resolved to risk it.  So
far he had always won in their brief encounters, and monotony was always
distasteful to her, especially monotony of that kind.

"And what about me?" she said, with a friendly smile.

"You," said Hardy, with a gravity of voice belied by the amusement in his
eye; "you are the daughter of the fine seaman and the niece of the
good-natured and motherly Mrs. Kingdom."

Miss Nugent looked down again hastily, and all the shrew within her
clamoured for vengeance.  It was the same masterful Jem Hardy that had
forced his way into their seat at church as a boy.  If he went on in
this way he would become unbearable; she resolved, at the cost of much
personal inconvenience, to give him a much-needed fall.  But she realized
quite clearly that it would be a matter of time.

"Of course, you and Jack are already good friends?" she said, softly.

"Very," assented Hardy.  "Such good friends that I have been devoting a
lot of time lately to considering ways and means of getting him out of
the snares of the Kybirds."

"I should have thought that that was his affair," said Miss Nugent,
haughtily.

"Mine, too," said Hardy.  "I don't want him to marry Miss Kybird."

For the first time since the engagement Miss Nugent almost approved of
it.  "Why not let him know your wishes?" she said, gently.  "Surely that
would be sufficient."

"But you don't want them to marry?" said Hardy, ignoring the remark.

"I don't want my brother to do anything shabby," replied the girl; "but I
shouldn't be sorry, of course, if they did not."

"Very good," said Hardy.  "Armed with your consent I shall leave no stone
unturned.  Nugent was let in for this, and I am going to get him out if I
can.  All's fair in love and war.  You don't mind my doing anything
shabby?"

"Not in the least," replied Miss Nugent, promptly.

The reappearance of Mrs. Kingdom at this moment saved Mr. Hardy the
necessity of a reply.

Conversation reverted to the missing captain, and Hardy and Mrs. Kingdom
together drew such a picture of the two captains fraternizing that Miss
Nugent felt that the millennium itself could have no surprises for her.

"He has improved very much," said Mrs. Kingdom, after the door had closed
behind their visitor; "so thoughtful."

"He's thoughtful enough," agreed her niece.

"He is what I call extremely considerate," pursued the elder lady, "but
I'm afraid he is weak; anybody could turn him round their little finger."

"I believe they could," said Miss Nugent, gazing at her with admiration,
"if he wanted to be turned."

The ice thus broken, Mr. Hardy spent the following day or two in devising
plausible reasons for another visit.  He found one in the person of Mr.
Wilks, who, having been unsuccessful in finding his beloved master at a
small tavern down by the London docks, had returned to Sunwich, by no
means benefited by his change of air, to learn the terrible truth as to
his disappearance from Hardy.

"I wish they'd Shanghaid me instead," he said to that sympathetic
listener, "or Mrs. Silk."

"Eh?" said the other, staring.

"Wot'll be the end of it I don't know," said Mr. Wilks, laying a hand,
which still trembled, on the other' knee.  "It's got about that she saved
my life by 'er careful nussing, and the way she shakes 'er 'ead at me for
risking my valuable life, as she calls it, going up to London, gives me
the shivers."

"Nonsense," said Hardy; "she can't marry you against your will.  Just be
distantly civil to her."

"'Ow can you be distantly civil when she lives just opposite?" inquired
the steward, querulously.  "She sent Teddy over at ten o'clock last night
to rub my chest with a bottle o' liniment, and it's no good me saying I'm
all right when she's been spending eighteen-pence o' good money over the
stuff."

"She can't marry you unless you ask her," said the comforter.

Mr. Wilks shook his head.  "People in the alley are beginning to talk,"
he said, dolefully.  "Just as I came in this afternoon old George Lee
screwed up one eye at two or three women wot was gossiping near, and when
I asked 'im wot 'e'd got to wink about he said that a bit o' wedding-cake
'