The Lady of the Barge and Others, Entire Collection

“Nothing,” replied the mate.

“Touch o’ toothache,” said the skipper. “Come along, Loo; I can just do with one o’ your breakfasts.”

Mrs. Gibbs suffered herself to be led on, and had got at least five yards on the way home, when she turned and looked back. The mate had still got the toothache, and was at that moment in all the agonies of a phenomenal twinge.

“There’s something wrong here,” said Mrs. Gibbs as she retraced her steps. “Ted, what are you making that face for?”

“It’s my own face,” said the mate, evasively.

Mrs. Gibbs conceded the point, and added bitterly that it couldn’t be helped. All the same she wanted to know what he meant by it.

“Ask John,” said the vindictive mate.

Mrs. Gibbs asked. Her husband said he didn’t 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.