P.S.--I have seen the finger-post on the London Road.
And now, having made an end of reading, Barnabas sighed and smiled,
and squared his stooping shoulders, and threw up his curly head, and
turning, found the Bo'sun still standing, hat in fist, lost in
contemplation of the gilded ceiling. Hereupon Barnabas caught his
hand, and shook it again, and laughed for very happiness.
"Bo'sun, how can I thank you!" said he, "these letters have given me
new hope--new life! and--and here I leave you to stand, dolt that I
am! And with nothing to drink, careless fool that I am. Sit down, man,
sit down--what will you take, wine? brandy?"
"Mr. Beverley, sir," replied the Bo'sun diffidently, accepting the
chair that Barnabas dragged forward, "you're very kind, sir, but if
I might make so bold,--a glass of ale, sir--?"
"Ale!" cried Barnabas. "A barrel if you wish!" and he tugged at the
bell, at whose imperious summons the Gentleman-in-Powder appearing
with leg-quivering promptitude, Barnabas forthwith demanded
"Ale,--the best, and plenty of it! And pray ask Mr. Peterby to come
here at once!" he added.
"Sir," said the Bo'sun as the door closed, "you'll be for steering a
course for Hawkhurst, p'r'aps?"
"We shall start almost immediately," said Barnabas, busily
collecting those scattered sheets of paper that littered floor and
table; thus he was wholly unaware of the look that clouded the
sailor's honest visage.
"Sir," said the Bo'sun, pegging thoughtfully at a rose in the carpet
with his wooden leg, "by your good leave, I'd like to ax 'ee a
question."
"Certainly, Bo'sun, what is it?" inquired Barnabas, looking up from
the destruction of the many attempts of his first letter to Cleone.
"Mr. Beverley, sir," said the Bo'sun, pegging away at the carpet as
he spoke, "is it--meaning no offence, and axing your pardon,--but
are you hauling your wind and standing away for Hawkhurst so prompt
on 'account o' my Lady Cleone?"
"Yes, Bo'sun, on account of our Lady Cleone."
"Why, then, sir," said the Bo'sun, fixing his eyes on the ceiling
again, "by your leave--but,--why, sir?"
"Because, Bo'sun, you and I have this in common, that we both--love
her."
Here the Bo'sun dropped his glazed hat, and picking it up, sat
turning it this way and that, in his big, brown fingers.
"Why, then, sir," said he, looking up at Barnabas suddenly,
"what of Master Horatio, his Lordship?"
"Why, Bo'sun, I told him about it weeks ago. I had to. You see, he
honors me with his friendship."
The Bo'sun nodded, and broke into his slow smile: "Ah, that alters things, sir," said he. "As for loving my lady--why?
who could help it?"
"Who, indeed, Bo'sun!"
"Though I'd beg to remind you, sir, as orders is orders, and
consequently she's bound to marry 'is Lordship--some day--"