Shows what some men will do and dare for money, and what sometimes comes of it.

We must now beg the reader’s permission to allow a few more years to elapse. Eight have come and gone since the dark day when poor Mrs Boyns received that message from the sea, which cast a permanent cloud over her life. Annie Webster has become a beautiful woman, and Harry¹ Boyns a bronzed stalwart man.

But things have changed with time. These two seldom meet now, in consequence of the frequent absence of the latter on long voyages, and when they do meet, there is not the free, frank intercourse² that there used to be. In fact, Mr Webster had long ago begun to suspect that his daughter’s regard for the handsome young sailor was of a nature that bade fair to interfere³ with his purposed mercantile transactions in reference to her, so he wisely sent him off on voyages of considerable length, hoping that he might chance to meet with the same fate as his father, and wound up by placing him in command of one of his largest and most unseaworthy East Indiamen, in the full expectation that both captain and vessel⁵ would go to the bottom together, and thus enable him, at one stroke, to make a good round sum out of the insurance offices, and get rid of a troublesome servant!

Gloating over these and kindred subjects, Mr Webster sat one morning in his office mending a pen, and smiling in a sardonic⁶ fashion to the portrait of his deceased wife’s father, when a tap came to the door, and Harry Boyns entered.

“I have come, sir,” he said, “to tell you that the repairs done to the Swordfish are not by any means sufficient. There are at least—”

“Please do not waste time, Captain Boyns, by entering upon details,” said Mr Webster, interrupting him with a bland⁷ smile: “I am really quite ignorant of the technicalities of shipbuilding. If you will state the matter to Mr Cooper, whom I employ expressly for—”

“But, sir,” interrupted Harry, with some warmth, “I have spoken to Mr Cooper, and he says the repairs are quite sufficient.”

分享到：