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He himself slept heavily; and, waking at dawn, went down. Pippin was still at his desk; his pen had dropped; he was asleep. The ink was wet; Scorrier's eye caught the opening words: "GENTLEMEN, Since this happened I have not slept...." He stole away again with a sense of indignation that no one could be dragged in to share that fight. The London Board-room rose before his mind.
From the first, and apparently without negotiation, he had his seat at the captain's table, to which on the second day Scorrier too found himself translated, and had to sit, as he expressed it ruefully, "among the big-wigs." During the voyage only one incident impressed itself on Scorrier's memory, and that for a disconcerting reason. In the forecastle were the usual complement of emigrants.
I hope you are very well, sir, I am Hemmings I am coming up." In two minutes he appeared, Christopher Hemmings, secretary of the New Colliery Company, known in the City-behind his back as "Down-by-the-starn" Hemmings. He grasped Scorrier's hand the gesture was deferential, yet distinguished.
In a moment he calmed down again. "There! this is very stupid; worrying you like this!" and with a long, kind look into Scorrier's face, he hustled him off to bed. Pippin did not break out again, though fire seemed to smoulder behind the bars of his courteous irony. Intuition of danger had evidently smitten Hemmings, for he made no allusion to the object of his visit.
It turned out that the question on which Scorrier's opinion was desired was, whether Hemmings should be sent out to see what was the matter with the superintendent. During the discussion which ensued, he was an unwilling listener to strictures on Pippin's silence. "The explosion," he muttered at last, "a very trying time!" Mr. "A very trying time! So it was to all of us.
A fellow all nerves with not a soul to help him! Well, it was his own lookout! He had chosen to centre it all in himself, to make himself its very soul. If he gave way now, the ship must go down! By a thin thread, Scorrier's hero-worship still held.
There were moments when Scorrier's common-sense sided with Hemmings these were moments when the secretary was not present. 'After all, he told himself, 'it's a little thing to ask one letter a month. I never heard of such a case. It was wonderful indeed how they stood it! It showed how much they valued Pippin! What was the matter with him? What was the nature of his trouble?
With wide eyes and drawn lips he had died protesting. Late in the afternoon the old miner touched Scorrier's arm, and said: "There he is there's my boy!" And he departed slowly, wheeling the body on a trolley. As the sun set, the gang below came up. No further search was possible till the fumes had cleared. Scorrier heard one man say: "There's some we'll never get; they've had sure burial."
I shall not go back beaten; you will have to carry me on my shield;" and slyly: "Too heavy, eh? Poor fellow!" Then for a long time he was silent, moving his lips as if adding up the cost. Suddenly he sighed, and grasping Scorrier's arm, said: "Dull, aren't I? What will you do?
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