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Updated: June 6, 2025
The women once safe, the men made short work of it; and in little over two hours twenty-five souls the survivors of a company of passengers and crew numbering in all forty-two were safely transferred to the Seamew, which, slipping her cable, at once bore away with her precious freight for Brightlingsea.
Favourable accidents, against which even the blind fatuity and garrulous pig-headedness of septuagenarian senility could not prevail might prolong the struggle; but the day of doom was inevitable, unless and so on, and so on, with a running commentary by the leader writer. Was it not in the Hebrides she had last heard of Sir Vernon's yacht the Seamew?
Some of that glow of exaltation drained out of her countenance, but it registered no disagreement. They sat for some time thereafter, talking, planning, this desperate young girl and the captain of the Seamew. "What do you know about this?" Orion Latham growled. "The mate bunkin' in with cooky and the skipper slingin' a hammock in the fo'c's'le while the whole cabin's to be given up to a girl.
The negro cook had deserted the Seamew the moment after she touched the Boston wharf. Although the other hands had remained by the schooner until she had just now dropped anchor in the cove below, he was not at all sure that they would sail with him for another voyage.
I'll show 'em that she can sail, even if Davy Jones himself sits on her bowsprit!" There was wind enough, in all good conscience. They discovered that before they were out of the bay. It had shifted into the northeast, and the Seamew went roaring away on her course under reefed canvas, heeling over to it like a racing yacht.
Then he caught: "And if you will go to that address Prue's got the street and number and see Ida May Bostwick and tell her about us, you'd be doing us a kindness, Tunis." "Me?" exclaimed the startled captain of the Seamew. "Yes, you. The gal won't bite you. You're going to Boston next week, you say. Will you do it?" "Sure I will, Cap'n Ira," said the young man heartily.
Ironbridge was a small place, with absolutely nothing to conceal; but it was a fine day, and Henry, who disliked extremely the task of assisting to work out the cargo, obtained permission to go ashore to purchase a few small things for the cook and look round. He strolled along blithely, casting a glance over his shoulders at the dusty cloud which hung over the Seamew as he went.
The girl did not find the captain of the Seamew at all inarticulate later, as they crossed the old fields of the Ball place and walked down the slope into the saucerlike valley where lay Latham's Folly. She had never known Tunis to be more companionable than on this occasion.
He had allowed sentiment to sway him for a few hours. But sentiment had received a jolt during his interview with the girl from the lace department of Hoskin & Marl's. "Cat's foot!" ejaculated the captain of the Seamew. "I guess I'm not afraid to take another look at that girl, if she's in here. Probably two looks will be about all I want," and he grinned rather wryly as he approached the door.
Abreast of the Seamew she stopped, and in the same doubtful manner looked down on the deck. The skipper crossed to the side, and straining his eyes through the gloom, looked up at her. "Is this the Seamew?" inquired a fresh girlish voice. "Annis!" shouted the astounded skipper. "Annis!" He ran up the rigging, and stepping on to the quay seized her hand.
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