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Updated: June 15, 2025
She was innocent enough to think that the good things of this world are given just where and when they are wanted. Captain Bontnor was the chief object of her thoughts, and she was already dreaming of restoring him to Malabar Cottage and his bits of things.
He was not fit to be trusted with a ship no owner would dream of it, no crew would sail under him. "There's men," said the captain humbly, "who learnt their seamanship from me who sailed under me p'raps one of them would give me a berth as first mate or even second mate under him for a shipmate they would do it." Captain Bontnor had fallen behind the times even in his sentiments.
Harrington had the bad taste to raise her eyebrows infinitesimally, and Captain Bontnor saw it. "How do you do?" said Mrs. Harrington, with a stiff bow. "I am quite well, thank you, marm," replied the sailor, with more aplomb than Eve had yet seen him display. Without waiting to hear this satisfactory intelligence, Mrs. Harrington turned to Eve again.
Captain Bontnor wandered rather disconsolately round the rooms after breakfast, and as Eve was with him he gave her a short inventory of these pieces of his life. "That there harpoon," he said, pointing to a rusty relic on the wall above the mantelpiece, "was given to me by the finest whaling captain that ever found his way into the North water.
"Of course, of course," acceded Captain Bontnor, pressing the tobacco into his pipe with his thumb; "I am taking that into consideration. There's all sorts to be had now, ain't there poetry and fiction and novels? I am not sure that the style would matter much, so long so long as the print was nice and clear."
It is a singular fact that utter worldliness in a woman seems to hurt women less than it does men. Mrs. Harrington, with frigid dignity, ignored Captain Bontnor, and addressed herself exclusively to Eve. "You must be good enough to remember," she said, "that I can scarcely have other motives than those of kindness."
"Not overlooking the fact, I suppose, that the orphan child of your sister Amelia Ann has a very fair income of her own." Captain Bontnor smiled blandly, and smoothed his hat with his sleeve. "Not overlooking that fact, marm," he said, "if you choose to take it so." Mrs.
"Is it not the same thing?" "And I can work," added Eve. "Yes," he said. "But in my old-fashioned way I am prejudiced against a lady working. In the days of women's rights ladies are apt to forget the charm of white hands." Eve made no answer. "Then it is not peace?" "No," she answered, with a smile; "not yet." She was standing beside Captain Bontnor, with her hand on his shoulder.
He looked round rather helplessly, wondering where he should put his hat a solid, flat-crowned British affair. Eve took it from him and laid it aside. Captain Bontnor sat very stiffly down. His square form did not seem to lose any of its height by the change of position, and with a stiff back he looked admiringly round the room, waiting like a child at a school treat.
He stood quaintly bowing in the doorway, his bright blue eyes veiled with shyness and a pathetic dumb self-consciousness. "Please come in," said Eve in Spanish, quite at a loss as to who this might be. Then Fitz had an inspiration. Something of the sea seemed to be wafted from the older to the younger sailor. "Are you Captain Bontnor?" he asked, rising from the table. "Yes, sir, yes!
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