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Updated: May 31, 2025
Now a slow man ain't good at quick business, is he?" That was clear to both. "You," said the captain, turning to the younger brother, "are a little in love; ain't you?" "Not a little, Captain Jorgan." "Much or little, you're sort preoccupied; ain't you?" It was impossible to be denied. "And a sort preoccupied man ain't good at quick business, is he?" said the captain. Equally clear on all sides.
"Here's the name," said Captain Jorgan, "sure enough. You can come in if you like, Tom."
"Formerly, dear Captain Jorgan," said Alfred, "of Lanrean, you recollect? Kitty and her father came to live at Steepways after Hugh shipped on his last voyage." "Ay, ay!" cried the captain, fetching a breath. "Now you have me in tow. Then your brother here don't know his sister-in-law that is to be so much as by name?" "Never saw her; never heard of her!" "Ay, ay, ay!" cried the captain.
Thus it came to pass that Captain Jorgan, sitting balancing himself on the pier-wall, struck his leg with his open hand, as some men do when they are pleased and as he always did when he was pleased and said, "A mighty sing'lar and pretty place it is, as ever I saw in all the days of my life!"
After that he roamed again, and again said, "This desk, belonging to this house of Dringworth Brothers, America Square, London City " Mr. Pettifer, still strangely moved, and now more moved than before, cut the captain off as he backed across the room, and bespake him thus: "Captain Jorgan, I have been wishful to engage your attention, but I couldn't do it.
Deeply delighted with his trust, and putting his heart into it, he raised the latch of the post-office parlour where Mrs. Raybrock and the young widow sat, and said, "May I come in?" "Sure you may, Captain Jorgan!" replied the old lady. "And good reason you have to be free of the house, though you have not been too well used in it by some who ought to have known better. I ask your pardon."
Outside of it was written, as you see, these words: 'Whoever finds this, is solemnly entreated by the dead to convey it unread to Alfred Raybrock, Steepways, North Devon, England. A sacred charge," said the captain, concluding his narrative, "and, Alfred Raybrock, there it is!" "This is my poor brother's writing!" "I suppose so," said Captain Jorgan.
Captain Jorgan followed the lovers out, quite sheepishly, pausing in the shop to give an instruction to Mr. Pettifer. "Here, Tom!" said the captain, in a low voice. "Here's something in your line. Here's an old lady poorly and low in her spirits. Cheer her up a bit, Tom. Cheer 'em all up." Mr. Raybrock, administering soft words of consolation.
Whereas Mr. Pettifer a man of a certain plump neatness, with a curly whisker, and elaborately nautical in a jacket, and shoes, and all things correspondent looked no more like a seaman, beside Captain Jorgan, than he looked like a sea-serpent.
This is my steward, ma'am, Tom Pettifer; he's been a'most all trades you could name, in the course of his life, would have bought all your chairs and tables once, if you had wished to sell 'em, but now he's my steward. My name's Jorgan, and I'm a ship-owner, and I sail my own and my partners' ships, and have done so this five-and-twenty year.
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