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Updated: June 9, 2025
A key turned in the lock, the door was flung open, and the skipper, dazed and blinking with the sudden light, stumbled into the room. "Father's gone," said Miss Pilbeam. The skipper made no answer. He was administering first aid to a right leg which had temporarily forgotten how to perform its duties, varied with slaps and pinches at a left which had gone to sleep.
At least, my daughter did. So long; Darkie." He kissed the top of a fat middle finger, and, turning away, walked off with Miss Pilbeam. The skipper stood watching them with his head swimming until, arrived at the corner, they stopped and the sergeant came slowly back. "I was nearly forgetting," he said, slowly.
"Aren't you sorry?" persisted Miss Pilbeam, in a vibrant voice. "Certainly not," said the skipper. "Why, I shouldn't have seen you if I hadn't done it." Miss Pilbeam looked at the clock and pondered. It wanted but five minutes to nine. Five minutes in which to make up a mind that was in a state of strong unrest. "I suppose it is time for me to go," said the skipper, watching her.
"One can't think of everything," said Miss Pilbeam, "but, of course, we ought to have thought of the mate getting uneasy when you didn't turn up last night, and going to the police-station with a description of you." The skipper started and smote the table with his fist. "Father's gone down to watch the ship now," said Miss Pilbeam.
It was Pilbeam." "You kissed her?" "I kissed her. And just at that moment the door of the saloon opened and out came Stella." "Great Scott!" "Exactly what I said. It flashed across me that to Stella, dear girl, not knowing the circumstances, the thing might seem a little odd. It did. She broke off the engagement, and I got out the dinghy and rowed off. I was mad. I didn't care what became of me.
By his side stood Miss Pilbeam, and both, with a far-away look in their eyes, were smiling vaguely but contentedly at the horizon. The sergeant appeared to be the first to see the skipper. "Ahoy, Darkie!" he cried. Captain Bligh, who was creeping slowly aft, halted, and, clenching his fists, regarded him ferociously.
Coming along the corridor was that infernal what's-her-name Mrs. Vanderley's maid Pilbeam. Have you ever been accepted by the girl you love, Reggie?" "Never. I've been refused dozens " "Then you won't understand how I felt. I was off my head with joy. I hardly knew what I was doing. I just felt I had to kiss the nearest thing handy. I couldn't wait. It might have been the ship's cat. It wasn't.
I've had enough chaff about it as it is." Miss Pilbeam stole to the door of the next room and peeped stealthily in. Not a sound came from the cupboard, and a horrible idea that the prisoner might have been suffocated set her trembling with apprehension. "H'sh!" she whispered. An eager but stifled "H'st!" came from the cup-board, and Miss Pilbeam, her fears allayed, stepped softly into the room.
"He's downstairs brushing the mud off," she said, in a low voice. "Who is?" said the skipper. "The fat policeman," said the girl, in a hard voice, as she remembered her father's wrongs. "What's he doing it here for?" demanded the astonished skipper. "Because he lives here." "Lodger?" queried the skipper, more astonished than before. "Father," said Miss Pilbeam.
Miss Pilbeam kept her doubts to herself and sat in a brown study, wondering how the capture was to be effected. She had a strong presentiment that the appearance of her father at the front door would be the signal for her visitor's departure at the back. For a time there was an awkward silence. "Lucky thing for me I upset that policeman," said the skipper, at last. "Why?" inquired the girl.
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