The Skipper's Wooing, and The Brown Man's Servant Part 10

"'Ansom keb?" suggested the cook.

"'Ansom keb be d.a.m.ned!" said Sam scornfully.

"One of them things wot 'as a lot o' people in, I mean."

"Tramcars," said the cook, who was all at sea. "But you couldn't take a tramcar all over the country, Sam."

"If anybody was to ask me, I should say you was a silly fool," said Sam impatiently. "I mean one o' them things people puts their money in."

The wondering cook had got as far as "automatic mach-" when Henry jostled him into silence.

"Wot are you gettin' at?" said d.i.c.k. "Why don't you talk plain?"

"'Cos I can't remember the word," said Sam angrily; "but a lot o' people gets together and goes shares."

"You mean a syndikit," said d.i.c.k.

"That's the word," said Sam, with relief.

"Well, wot's the good of it?" said d.i.c.k.

"This way," said Sam; "we make up a syndikit and divide the money when 'e's found. It 'ud be a cruel thing, d.i.c.k, if, just as you'd spotted your man, I wos to come along and snap 'im up under your werry nose, for instance-"

"You'd better try it," said d.i.c.k grimly.

"It's a very good idea o' yours, Sam," said the cook. "I'll join it."

"You'd better come in, d.i.c.k," said Sam.

"Not me," said d.i.c.k; "it's five pounds I'm after."

"We shall beworkin' agin you, you know, me an' the cook an' the boy,"

said Sam anxiously.

"Ho!" said Henry, "don't think I'm takin' a 'and, cos I'm not."

"Werry good, then," said Sam, "the-the--what d'ye call it, d.i.c.k?"

"Syndikit," said d.i.c.k.

"The syndikit is me and the cook, then," said Sam. "Give us your 'and, cook."

In this informal way the "Captain Gething Search Company" was founded, and the syndicate, thinking that they had a good thing, began to hold aloof from their fellows, and to confer darkly in remote corners. They expended a s.h.i.+lling on a popular detective story ent.i.tled, "On the Trail," and an element of adventure was imported into their lives which brightened them considerably.

The following day the skipper spent hard at work with the cargo, bustling about with feverish energy as the afternoon wore on and left him to imagine his rival tete-a-tete with Annis. After tea a reaction set in, and, bit by bit the mate, by means of timely sympathy, learnt all that there was to know. Henry, without a display of anything, except, perhaps, silence, learnt it too.

"It's in your favor that it's your own craft," said the mate; "you can go where you like. If you find the father, she might chuck the other feller."

"That isn't my object in finding him," said the skipper. "I just want to find him to oblige her."

He set off the following afternoon followed by the stealthy glances of the crew, who had heard something from Henry, and, first getting his beard trimmed at a barber's, walked along to call on Mrs. Gething. She was in, and pleased to see him, and hearing that his crew were also searching, supplied him with another photograph of the missing captain.

"Miss Gething well?" inquired the skipper as, after accepting an invitation to a cup of tea, he noticed that she only laid for two.

"Oh, yes; she's gone to London," said Mrs. Gething. "She's got friends there, you know."

"Mr. Glover," said the skipper to himself with dismal intuition. "I met a friend here the day before yesterday," he said aloud.

"Oh, yes-Mr. Glover," said the old lady; "a man in a very good position.

He's very nice, isn't he?"

"Splendid," murmured the skipper vaguely.

"He would do anything for her," said the fond mother. "I'm sure it's quite touching the way he looks after her."

"Going to be married soon?" queried the skipper.

He knew it was a rude question for a comparative stranger to ask, but he couldn't help it.

"When my husband is found," said the old lady, shaking her head sadly.

"She won't marry till then."

The skipper sat back in his chair, and pus.h.i.+ng his plate from him, pondered over this latest piece of information. It seemed at first an excellent reason for not finding Captain Gething, but the idea had hardly occurred to him before he dismissed it as unworthy, and manfully resolved to do his best. For an hour he sat listening to the somewhat prosy talk of the old lady, and then-there being no sign of Annis's return-he silently departed and made his way back to the Seamew.

CHAPTER VI.

To the cook's relief he found that the Seamew's next voyage was to a little port on the West Coast named c.o.c.klemouth, calling at the garrison town of Bymouth on the way. He told Sam that it was a load off his mind, and showed clearly by his manner that he expected the syndicate at least to accept his story. They spent most of their time in the galley, where, secure from money-grubbing eavesdroppers, they matured their plans over the was.h.i.+ng of potatoes and the scouring of saucepans. "On the Trail"

was remarkably clever, and they obtained many helpful suggestions from it, though the discovery that Henry had got hold of it, and had marked all the most valuable pa.s.sages in lead pencil, caused them much anxiety.

The syndicate were the first to get ash.o.r.e the evening they arrived at Bymouth. They had come to the conclusion in their deliberations that the only possible place in which a retired mariner would spend his evenings was a public-house, and they resolved to do them thoroughly.

"The worst of it," said Sam, as they walked slowly together to the town, "is the drinkin'. Arter I've 'ad five or six pints, everybody looks to me like Cap'n Gething."

"We won't 'ave no drinkin'," said the cook. "We'll do wot the feller did in that story. 'Ave you got sixpence about you?"

"Wot for?" inquired Sam carefully.

"Workin' expenses," replied the cook, dwelling fondly on the phrase.

"That'll be thruppence each, then," said Sam, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Sixpence each," said the cook. "Now do you know what we're goin' to do?"