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Updated: June 3, 2025
There was a rustling of papers, and a list of East Indiamen was handed up to him: he hastily ran his finger over the pages. Suddenly his face lighted up. "Ah! this is she! this is the ship that was wrecked last night!" The coroner took the paper and slowly read out "The James and Elizabeth, of Bristol. Captain Antonius Merrydew." "Ah, yes, that is she.
He had been away for two days, and noticed with gratification that the influx of visitors was still increasing. His clerk followed into the room. "There's a lady in 56 who wanted to see you when you returned. She asked particularly for the manager." "Who is she?" "Don't know. It's a Mrs. Merrydew, from Sacramento. Expecting her husband on the next steamer." "Humph!
Captain Merrydew raised the hue and cry, but the sailor Georgio Rhodojani was never seen again from the moment when his evil face leered in through the window of Lantrig. A reward was offered, and more than once Polkimbra was excited with the news of his arrest, but it all came to nothing.
There was the same opulence of lace and ornament, and, whether by accident or design, clasped around the slight wrist of her extended hand was a bracelet which he remembered had swept away the last dregs of his fortune. He took her hand mechanically, yet knowing whatever rage was in his heart he had not the strength to refuse it. "They told me it was Mrs. Merrydew," he stammered.
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