Part 2

“Wait a bit!” urged Captain Gooster. “Of course, I says at once that I’m pained and ’urt by such a suggestion, and that of course I’m only marrying Mrs. Goffley for love. ‘Sure?’ she asks, smiling at me in a way what would ’ave been tantalizing in a young gal. ‘Positive certain!’ says I. ‘Money,’ I says. ‘What’s money to me? I’ve got plenty of my own!’ ‘There you are!’ she says to Ann. ‘Just as well though, ain’t it?’ says Ann, with a sniff. ‘Because, you know, ma, you ain’t got any money, ’ave you? It all belongs to me, don’t it?’”

Mr. Dobb, finding verbal comment inadequate, took off his cap and shook his head helplessly.

“Well, when I ’eard that,” narrated Captain Gooster, “the room sort of went round and round for a bit, and the next thing I knew was that I was saying I must not keep you waiting here any longer. And, with that, I stumbled over the mat and left the place. And as for you—”

“’Alf a minute, sir,” requested Mr. Dobb. “I can see you don’t understand diplomaticism. You ’ave to run a few risks to start with, and then you sets ’em right afterwards, when you’ve got what you wants—that’s diplomaticism.”

“If _you_ was to get what you really wants—”

“After all, sir, it’s only what you asked me to do,” contended Horace. “‘’Elp me to find out which one of ’em ’as got the money,’” says you to me, “‘and I’ll give you a job on the “Alert.”’ Well, I _’ave_ ’elped you to find out. You know now that it’s the daughter what’s got it!”

“Yes, and I’ve been and proposed to the mother!” groaned Captain Gooster.

“Well, you’ve only got to change over,” suggested Horace.

“Step back and say it was really Ann I meant to ask, I suppose?” groaned Captain Gooster. “Just as if the daughter would ’ave anything to do with me now! Just as if the old ’un would let me off ’er ’ooks now, the artful, deceiving old cat!”

“You could work up a quarrel with ’er,” prompted Mr. Dobb.

“She ain’t the sort to quarrel till after we’re married,” ruefully answered the skipper of the “Alert.” “After that, it’ll be a different story, I bet!”

Mr. Dobb, coming to a standstill, lightly tickled the nape of his neck for some minutes.

“I’ve got it!” he pronounced, brightly. “Call and see ’er to-morrow, and speak to ’er as man to man. Tell ’er you made a mistake, and it ain’t love but only respect for ’er old age!”

“And she’ll just answer me back snappy that she ain’t making a mistake, any way,” prophesied Captain Gooster. “No, there ain’t no way out, that I can see, short of suicide. And,” he added, lapsing into extraordinary gloom, “I don’t know that I wouldn’t prefer _that_ to that old gal with no money be’ind ’er! And as for you and a berth on the ‘Alert’,” he ended, savagely, “you just let me catch you on board ’er for a single moment, even on a visit!”

He swung round and strode off, totally disregarding the expostulatory noises of his companion. Mr. Dobb, thus deserted, sauntered along in restive dejection, but suddenly a greater decisiveness came into his bearing, and soon he was cantering along in eager pursuit of the master of the “Alert.”

“Now—now—now I _’ave_ got it, sir!” he puffed, catching up with Captain Gooster. “Come to me in a flash, it did! You must take me along to see the Goffleys again to-morrow night.”

Captain Gooster violently mentioned a mutual meeting, which involved considerable travel, as having priority over Mr. Dobb’s suggestion.

“You must keep on taking me there,” insisted Horace, undaunted.

“Just to make me laugh,” observed Captain Gooster, grimly, “tell me what the idea is.”

“Why, I’ll sink my feelings, and _I’ll_ carry on a bit with the old gal!”

“Carry on with—” gasped the “Alert’s” skipper.

“Make goo-goo eyes at ’er, flirt with ’er, play slap-’ands with ’er,” amplified Mr. Dobb. “And if you don’t give me a job on the ‘Alert’ after _that_— Why, chaps ’as got medals for less than that! Far less!”

“Give you a job on the ‘Alert’ for playing slap ’ands with my missis-to-be?” queried Captain Gooster, in bewilderment.

“Yes; and one day you catches us at it,” sketched Mr. Dobbs, knowingly. “And you accuses us of flirting, and you ’as a tremendous row with ’er, and, though it breaks your ’eart, you casts ’er off! And there you are—free! And you can bet that quarrelling with her ma will give you a good send-off to begin courting Ann with. You can see that she’s that sort.”

“Yes; and what ’appens to you?”

“Oh, I get that job on the ‘Alert’,” answered Horace, simply. “You can trust me to protect myself safe enough where women are concerned.”

Captain Gooster, weighing the pros and cons, could detect no flaw in the scheme. Next afternoon, by appointment, he met Mr. Dobb at the corner of Fore Street, and together they repaired to the little second-hand shop. Enthusiastically did Mrs. Goffley bid them enter and stay to tea, an invitation which was signalized, rather than seconded, by a prolonged sniff from the younger lady.

Mr. Dobb, now reversing his behaviour of the previous evening, exhibited himself in the light of a sparkling blade. Riddles galore did he propound to enliven the proceedings, and many were the diverting anecdotes he furnished forth, though, indeed, in some of these he checked himself, finishing them a trifle lamely with endings which had the flavour of improvisation about them.

His geniality, however, went far towards neutralizing the acrimony of Miss Goffley, and by the time adieux were said Captain Gooster was well satisfied with his confederate.

“I reckon you’ve made a fine start, ’Orace,” he said, as they strolled together down Fore Street. “And to-morrow you must talk more particularly to the old gal, so as to give me a chance to try to make up a bit of the leeway with Ann.”

Such heed did Mr. Dobb give to this instruction that when, on the following evening, they called at the little shop, he devoted his conversation almost exclusively to the widow.

“Splendid!” was his patron’s verdict, when they left. “I see she was a bit impatient at first, but before long she was listening to every word you said. Why, she never even noticed that I was talking quite a lot to Ann.”

“Ah, and she was answering you, what’s more! I see you! What did you say to ’er?” asked Mr. Dobb, curiously.

“Oh, I was just sort of generally mysterious and wistful and ’eart-’eavy, like you advised,” replied Captain Gooster. “And I got ’er to confess that there was a time when she ’oped—”

“Then she’s as good as yours!” joyfully declared Horace. “And the berth on the ‘Alert’ is as good as mine!”

It was during the following evening that there occurred a startling development in the engagement of Captain Gooster to Mrs. Goffley. Horace and that lady had been chatting together gaily, and Miss Goffley was permitting the captain to turn over her music at the piano for her, when suddenly the skipper of the “Alert” sprang to the centre of the room and crashed both his fists down upon the table.

Mrs. Goffley, with an agitated squeal, tugged her hand away from Mr. Dobb’s grasp.

“Too late, ma’am, too late!” thundered Captain Gooster.

“I—he—we—he was only telling me my fortune!” protested Mrs. Goffley, guiltily.

“I see ’im telling it,” retorted the skipper, grimly. “Do you think I ain’t got any eyes? Carrying-on! Flirting! That’s what you was up to! Don’t trouble to make up lies about it.”

“Just because I was making myself pleasant to your friend,” began Mrs. Goffley, with spirit.

“You go on making yourself pleasant to ’im!” recommended Captain Gooster. “I’m done with you!”

“And I must say, ma, I’m not surprised, either,” mentioned Miss Goffley, with a toss of her head.

“I’ve got witnesses to prove you was carrying-on,” said the captain. “I’ve got the law on my side, and that’s all I need. I’m finished with you, ma’am, and I wish you a very good evening. Oh, a very good evening, indeed, ma’am!”

Aloofly averting his gaze from the agitated dame, he hurried from the house as speedily as possible. Horace, half an hour later, came to him in the bar-parlour of the “Jolly Sailors.”

“There was a proper bust-up after you’d gone,” Mr. Dobb said, with relish. “But, after they’d both ’ad ’istericks, things was a bit quieter.”

“And Mrs. Goffley?”

“She said it was good riddance to bad rubbish! Said so over and over again. And now for business after pleasure. When do I start on the Alert’?”

“Well, we sails at the end of the week, as you know, on the same day as the ‘Jane Gladys.’ You can come then, if all goes well.”

“Ah, I knew I shouldn’t go begging for long!” said Horace, with considerable pride. “I knew I shouldn’t be long finding something to suit me.”

“I shall ’ave to get the Goffley business settled first, though,” hedged Captain Gooster. “I’ve got to bring Ann up to the mark yet, don’t forget. Not that I ’ave any fears, though. Why, she’s as good as said she’d—”

“But, my word, what a life them two women will be leading each other for the next few weeks!” exclaimed Horace, with a shudder.

“I shall get Ann to keep quiet about our engagement when we _are_ engaged. And when we get married it’ll be by special licence, unbeknown to ’er ma. I can afford it, if Ann’s got the money coming to ’er.”

“You take my advice, sir,” urged Horace, earnestly, “and rush your wedding through as quick as ever you can. Don’t you run any risks, for the old gal will be doing all in ’er power to p’ison the young gal’s mind against you. There’s many a slip between the bottle and the glass, don’t forget.”

“I’d get it settled to-morrow, if I could.”

“Well, luckily, I’m still friends there, don’t forget. I’m waiting to quarrel with the old gal when it’s more convenient. At present, she just sits looking loving and ’opeful at me. And I’ll call round there to-morrow morning, first thing, and get Ann to meet you somewhere, and you must persuade ’er as ’ard as you can. Pack all the love you’d make in a ordinary engagement into three days, an’ get ’er to marry you before you sails. That’s the way to do things, if you wants to be sure of ’er. And if you wants any odd notes or messages taken to ’er, I’ll see to ’em for you.”

“You don’t suppose I wants to go near the ’ouse, do you?” asked Captain Gooster, with a shiver.

And thus three more days passed, while the affairs of the “Alert” were shamelessly subjugated to the claims of Cupid. On board the “Jane Gladys” Horace was watched vigilantly by his shipmates, and he maddened them with constant veiled allusions to a most lucrative and superior berth which his talents and charms were securing for him. Already had he handed in his provisional resignation to Captain Peter Dutt, already was he bearing himself as a gentleman of social standing far above that of his present companions.

Came the afternoon prior to the day which was to witness the departure both of the “Alert” and the “Jane Gladys” from Shorehaven.

Captain Simon Gooster, passing up Fore Street, had on his arm a lady whose countenance exhibited pride and triumph. For a climax had been achieved at the registrar’s office, and Miss Ann Goffley was now Miss Ann Goffley no longer, but was, for better or for worse, Mrs. Simon Gooster.

“There’s no need to be flustered,” said the bridegroom to the bride, when they reached the little shop. “We’ve got to break the news to ’er sooner or later, and ’Orace ’as promised to be on ’and to give us a ’elping word ’ere and there. She can’t let off all the steam she’d like to—not in front of ’im.”

“I shall be flustered if I like!” insisted Mrs. Gooster. “Don’t you start ordering me about! If I ain’t allowed to be flustered on my wedding-day, I should like to know when I am allowed to be.”

Captain Gooster, after a glance of dawning uneasiness at his bride, led the way through the shop. The new Mrs. Gooster’s mother was unsuspectingly laying the table for tea, and Mr. Dobb, to the captain’s relief, was seated in the arm-chair.

“We’ve done it!” announced Captain Gooster.

“I’m Mrs. Gooster now,” said the younger lady.

“Lor’!” exclaimed Mrs. Goffley. She turned to Horace and giggled coyly. “Shall we tell ’em?” she asked.

“Not much to tell,” returned Mr. Dobb, airily. “Only that you and me was married, too, this morning, by special licence!”

“Lor’!” cried the skipper’s wife, in her turn.

“Quite private,” explained Horace, briefly. “She even paid for the licence, so as to get it over quick. I fancy she must ’ave guessed what you and—and Ann was up to.”

“Oh, well, there’s no accounting for tastes!” said the skipper of the “Alert.” “Anyway, there can’t be any cause for ill-feeling between any of us now, can there? But, really, I don’t quite see, ’Orace, ’ow _you_ come to—”

“So you two got married on the quiet, too, did you?” interrupted Mrs. Dobb, with a curious glint in her eyes. “Well, p’r’aps you was wise. Because, of course, you must ’ave known that I’d never ’ave given _my_ consent, after the way you treated _me_, Cap’n Gooster?”

“Yes, I knew that well enough,” agreed the skipper.

“You married Ann for her money, of course,” stated the elder lady, dogmatically.

“Nothing of the sort!” stoutly maintained Captain Gooster. “Love—nothing but love! It was because I’d found out that it was ’er I really loved all the time that I broke it off with you. If Ann ’adn’t got a single penny coming to ’er—”

“And she ’asn’t!” said Mrs. Dobb, with emphasis.

“Trying to frighten me?” suggested the smiling captain. “Why, you admitted to me yourself that it was ’er that ’ad all the money!”

“So she ’ad,” returned Mrs. Gooster’s mother—“_then_!”

“What do you mean—then?” asked the captain, thickly.

“Why, it was all to be ’ers,” explained the new Mrs. Dobb, “unless she married without my consent. My ’usband arranged it like that to protect ’er from fortune ’unters, and very lucky ’e did, too! You needn’t shake your ’ead! It’s all quite true. ’Ere’s a copy of my ’usband’s will. I showed it to Dobb ’ere when ’e was trying to console me that evening after you’d left—you know, when you threw me over!”

“You—you _knew_ when you advised me to—” roared the skipper, wheeling on Mr. Dobb.

“I did,” shamelessly admitted Mr. Dobb. “Part of it I worked out, and part of it worked itself out for me! You see, I—I ’appened to fall genuine in love with my new wife ’ere and—”

“You needn’t trouble to tell lies about it!” shouted the skipper.

“And don’t you roar at my ’usband like that, neither!” ordered the elder lady. “And I may as well tell you that I’d ’ave taken ’im if I ’ated ’im—I’d ’ave taken the first man what come along! Anything to let you see you wasn’t the only chance I’d got! And—”

“Well, but what becomes of the money that should ’ave been ’ers—the money you’ve diddled me out of?” cried the captain.

“Why,” said Horace, softly, “it just stays with _us_!”

“And you knew this when you advised me to get married on the quiet to Ann, yonder?”

“Certingly,” said the unabashed Horace. “Didn’t we both agree that ‘Strictly Business!’ was a jolly good motter?”

“And you,” went on the skipper, wheeling on his bride—“you didn’t tell me nothing, for fear of losing me?”

“And so I should have,” she said. “And don’t you stare at me like that, neither! If you think that I’m the kind of wife that can be bullied, you’re making a big mistake! And now I’ll get my portmanteau, and you can take me down to your cabin on the ‘Alert.’ You don’t think I’m going to stay on in the house with these people, do you?”

“Still, any time you’re passing,” said the cook, “I’ll be pleased to welcome my stepdaughter and my son-in-law. _I_ don’t bear no ill-will, and I shouldn’t like to think that others would.”

“Well, you’ve lost your berth on the ‘Alert,’ any way,” said Captain Gooster, inadequately. “You needn’t think I’d ’ave you now, because I shouldn’t!”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t accept it, in any case,” said Mr. Horace Dobb. “’Oo’s to look after the shop? You said yourself that it needed a man, and I’ve provided myself for it. And you know ’ow useful I can make myself, don’t you?”

* * * * *

That evening, when Messrs. Lock and Tridge and Clark, hearing something of what had transpired, trooped down to Fore Street to find Horace, they discovered him already engaged in bringing the stock and fixtures into line with his own ideas on such matters.

Very readily he told them the tale of his marriage, and, further, pointed out that the future might hold many occasions when his shipmates of the “Jane Gladys” might find it profitable to link their talents temporarily to the fortunes of the little second-hand shop.

But when Mr. Tridge remarked that the “Jane Gladys” was sailing early on the morrow, and that therefore a little loan would be both acceptable and timely to her crew, Mr. Horace Dobb did not reply in words.

Instead, he stood erect and pointed over his shoulder, with a jerk of his thumb, at a notice which he had been at some pains to illuminate on a panel of wood, and which now hung conspicuously on the wall of the little shop.

Simultaneously, Messrs. Lock, Tridge, and Clark turned to regard the board. It bore the simple legend, “_Strictly Business_.”

_EPISODE II_ A WATCHING BRIEF

Mr. Peter Lock, in the bowels of the “Jane Gladys,” had attired himself for outdoor promenade with a meticulous attention to detail which had spurred Mr. Joseph Tridge to scornful mention of beauty-doctors and mashers and tailors’ dummies. Mr. Lock, in no wise offended by these oblique compliments to his appearance, had finally lingered for a full half-minute before the cracked little mirror in fastidious self-examination, and then had gone ashore for the express purpose of keeping an appointment with a friend. Five minutes later he reappeared. He explained that a complication had arisen, for his friend had brought a friend with her to the trysting-place, so that another gentleman was now indispensable to secure balance to the party. As the result of eloquent appeals and lavish promises, Mr. Tridge was reluctantly impressed into the role of temporary friend to the friend’s friend.

Matters thus adjusted, Messrs. Tridge and Lock departed, leaving the fo’c’sle of the “Jane Gladys” empty but for the brooding figure of the stout and aged Mr. Samuel Clark.

For a long while Mr. Clark sat on the edge of his bunk, wrapped in doleful reverie, and motionless save when, from time to time, a deep sigh agitated his vast shoulders. At last, however, a well-remembered whistle sounded from the quay, and instantly roused Mr. Clark from his gloomy meditations.

“’Orace!” he exclaimed, sitting erect, and his eyes began to gleam with a dawning hopefulness.

A few minutes later Mr. Horace Dobb descended into that fo’c’sle wherein aforetime he had been so prominent a dweller, though now it needed strong imagination to believe that, less than three weeks ago, he had served the “Jane Gladys” in such a menial capacity as cook. For Mr. Dobb was wearing a horseshoe pin and a massive watch-chain, and a soft hat of adventurous aspect. He carried a bloated umbrella which had somehow acquired a quality of being a mace-like symbol of authority. And, also, Mr. Dobb was smoking a cigar.

In short, he presented a visible proof that marriage need not invariably be a failure, provided that one selects as bride a manageable widow with a snug little business of her own.

“Doing the Cinderella hact all by yourself, are you?” observed Mr. Dobb. “It couldn’t be better. I’ve brought some one on purpose to see you.”

“I could trot across to the ‘Jolly Sailors’ and get—” began Mr. Clark. “At least,” he amended, ingenuously, “if I ’ad any money I could.”

“Not necessary,” stated Mr. Dobb. “’E’s a teetotaller.”

“A teetotaller?” echoed Mr. Clark, suspiciously. “’Ere, what’s the game—bringing a teetotaller to see _me_? ’Strewth, ’Orace!” he cried, in sudden alarm. “You ain’t going to tell me that being well-off ’as gone to your ’ead and given you silly ideas, are you? You ain’t going to tell me that you’ve turned teetotaller, too, and the pair of you ’ave come down to try and convert me? I won’t ’ave it!” he declared, wrathfully. “I ain’t going to ’ave no one trying to meddle about with my constitootion, never mind ’ow old a friend ’e is!”

“And don’t _you_ start thinking evil of _me_!” returned Mr. Dobb, with spirit. “I won’t ’ave it, neither!”

“Well,” protested Mr. Clark, significantly, “_you_ a-going about with teetotallers!”

“Well, p’r’aps it do look fishy,” conceded Mr. Dobb. “But you oughter know me better than that! You know me motter, Sam, don’t you? ‘Strictly Business!’ Well, my friendship with ’im is strictly business. You don’t suppose I could ever ’ave a friendly friendship with a teetotaller, do you?”

“I should ’ope not, indeed!” answered Mr. Clark, severely.

“I met ’im in the way of business, and I’ve got to know ’im pretty well,” continued Mr. Dobb. “And now there’s something he wants done, and I thought of you for the job at once.”

“Much obliged to you,” said Mr. Clark, stiffly, “but I ain’t sure that I wants to do jobs for teetotallers.”

“Don’t you be a silly old idjit, Sam,” tolerantly recommended Mr. Dobb. “You don’t want to go cutting off your nose to spite your face—particularly with the sort of face _you’ve_ got! I was only speaking figgerative,” he hastened to add, at Mr. Clark’s indignant stare. “Ain’t the old ‘Jane Gladys’ to be sold soon, and won’t you be out of a job then?”

“I was thinking about that when you come down ’ere,” admitted Mr. Clark, sorrowfully.

“Very well, then,” argued Mr. Dobb, “you want to do the best you can for yourself. You take on this ’ere job I’ve mentioned, and you’ll ’ave a nice easy life ashore for the next week or two, and all the time you can be looking round for a proper job. And you’re far more likely to find one by being on the spot than by rushing round frantic after you’re paid off, ain’t you?”

“Of course I am,” agreed Mr. Clark. “And I know the skipper’ll let me go any time I want to. ’E said so, only the night before last, when me and Peter and Joe give ’im a parting present for three-and-nine.”

“There you are!” cried Mr. Dobb. “You take on this job with the chap I’ve brought—Poskett, ’is name is. And while you’re doing it, me and you will keep our eyes skinned to find you a permanent job in the town.”

“I take it as very kind of you, ’Orace,” said Mr. Clark.

“Then you takes it wrong,” returned Mr. Dobb. “I’m doing it for business—strictly for business. You and me and them others ’ave worked a few good plans in the past, and I can see that my little second-’and shop in Fore Street gives us a chance to work a lot more, if we was all close together. I mean to get you and Peter Lock and Joe Tridge all settled ’ere near me in Shore’aven. _Then_ we’ll show ’em!” he prophesied, with satisfaction.

“All four of us ’atching up ideas together again? Oh, blessed wision! Oh, ’appy prospect!” murmured Mr. Clark, moved to rhapsody. “Bring on your teetotallers!” he invited. “With that before me, I’m ready for anything!”

“I’ll call ’im, and ’e’ll tell you all about it,” said Mr. Dobb, and, going on deck, he soon returned to the fo’c’sle in convoy of a short, pallid gentleman, whose very side-whiskers seemed trimmed into semblance of stern rectitude.

Horace introduced Mr. Poskett to Mr. Clark and the trio sat down at the table. After Mr. Poskett had refused the offer of a cup of cold water, considerately suggested by Mr. Clark, the object of the visit was at once approached.

“It’s like this, Mr. Clark,” stated the visitor, “children is very difficult things to manage properly these days, I find.”

“Thrash ’em!” advised Mr. Clark, assuming an air of efficiency in all matters. “And not only thrash ’em, but keep on thrashing ’em! That’s the only way to manage children, it seems to me, if you wants a quiet life.”

“Yes, but what about it when the child is a girl of twenty?” demurred Mr. Poskett.