Chapter 11 Donald and Dorothy by Mary Mapes Dodge
JACK
Jack and Nero entered the library, where Mr. Reed and Eben Slade sat waiting.
The entrance of the sailor-coachman had a peculiar effect upon Eben Slade. It gave him a drowsy appearance. Some men have that look when they are specially on their guard.
"Did you want me, Capt'n?" asked Jack, after standing a few seconds and receiving no orders.
"No; I want you," spoke up Eben Slade, in a bold yet uneasy tone. "Let's see if you can answer a few plain questions."
Jack glanced inquiringly at Mr. Reed; then, brightening, replied to Slade as to one not at all worthy of his respect:
"Questions? P'raps. Reel 'em out."
It was plain from the start that, if the sailor-coachman could have his own way, Eben Slade would get but little information out of him. He had despised the fellow as a "skulker," from the moment he had seen him sneaking about the grounds like a spy, as he truly suspected him to be.
"So," began the questioner grandly, as if to awe his man into a becoming deference, "you are the person who, according to Mr. Reed, rescued the twins? How—I mean in what way, by what means—did you save them?"
"Mostly by tryin', your honor," replied Jack, sullenly.
Eben Slade looked vexed, but he returned blandly:
"Undoubtedly so. But I want the details of the saving. Let us hear from the beginning."
"There warn't any beginning," growled Jack. "The first we knew about it, it was all over."
"Well, but you had some part in the wreck, hadn't you? What was it?"
"I didn't have no part in it, bless you," replied Jack, with grim humor, "it did itself."
"Clever tar!" exclaimed Mr. Slade, in mock admiration, inwardly resolved to conciliate the man, if possible, by letting him have his own way for a while. "Well, I was on the wrong tack, as you sailors would say. Now, to start fair, can you tell me what happened after the first shock of the shipwreck was over? Which of the children did you pick up first?"
"Sorry I can't oblige you," said Jack; "but you see it was night, and, besides, I'd forgot my specs."
"Have you any recollection whatever on that point, Jack?" asked Mr. Reed, though he well knew what the answer must be.
"No, sir," replied Jack, respectfully; but instantly throwing a tone of pathetic appeal into his voice: "Why, Capt'n, look a' here! It's hard seein' any diff'rence between young babbies in broad sunlight and a smooth sea; but down in the ragin' waves, an' in the night time, now? It ain't in reason."
Mr. George nodded, and Slade, after thinking a moment, asked mildly:
"Did you happen to know any of the passengers, Jack?"
"When a cove hails from the fo'castle, your honor, he ain't apt to be over intimate in the cabins; but I knew one lady aboard, if I do say it."
"Ah," exclaimed Eben Slade, "now we have it! You knew one lady aboard. Which of the ladies was this?"
"It was the stewardess, sir, and she was drownded."
"And you knew no other lady, eh?"
"Can't say, sir. Opinions differ as to knowin'; what some might call bein' acquainted another might call otherwise," said Jack, with a scrape, and a light touch at his forelock.
"Right!" pursued Eben Slade. "Now did you happen to be 'acquainted, or otherwise,' with either Mrs. Reed or Mrs. Robertson?"
"I was 'otherwise,' your honor, with every lady on the ship, exceptin' the party I told you was drownded."
"Then you didn't know Mrs. Reed and Mrs. Robertson apart, am I to understand?" asked Slade, sharply.
"Can't say, sir. Never saw 'em apart."
"Ah! They were always together, then; now we're getting it. Could you tell which was the mother of the twins?"
"Could I tell which was the mother of the twins? I didn't know half the passengers from t'other half, let alone knowin' which babby belonged to which mother. Why, man, boxin' the compass back'ard would be nothin' compared to that. All I can tell you is we was 'most all hove out into the sea, high and low together."
"I'd have you hove out again if you were my man, or make you keep a civiller tongue in your head," was Eben's savage retort. "Now, sir, will you or will you not tell me how you saved the two babies, and what became of the other one?"
"I will not," answered Jack, doggedly; then seeing that Mr. George was about to reprove him, he added, in an altered tone: "As for the savin', that's my business; but the other poor little critter must'a been put into the boat with its poor mother. I feel sartain it was."
Eben leaned forward, and asked with some gentleness:
"How did you know it was the mother?"
"Because—well, by the way the poor soul screamed for it, when they were letting her and the rest down into the boat; and the way she quieted after,—that's how I know. But it's all unsartain."
"And where was the other mother?"
Jack turned an imploring glance toward Mr. Reed. Must he go on humoring the fellow?—but Mr. Reed's expressive nod compelled him to reply:
"The other mother? I don't know where she was. One instant we men was all obeyin' orders; the next, everything was wild. It was dark night, women screamin', men shoutin', the ship sinkin', some hollerin' she was afire, and every one savin' himself an' others as best he could. Perhaps you ain't aware that folks don't gen'rally go and get out the log at such times and set down their obserwations for future ref'rence."
"Did you see Mr. Robertson?" asked Slade, loftily. "Was he with the lady in the boat?"
"Well, if ever I met the like of land lubbers! Was he with the lady in the boat? Did I see him? Why, man, it warn't a pleasure-party. Out of all that shipload, barely twenty men and wimmen ever saw the sun rise again; and Mr. Robertson,—no, nor his wife, nor the babby, nor t'other poor lady,—warn't amongst them, as the master here can tell you; and none on 'em couldn't make us any the wiser about who the babbies belonged to. An' their mothers wasn't hardly ever on deck; 'most like they was sick in their state-rooms, for they was born ladies, both of 'em; and that's all you'll learn about it, if I stand here till daylight. Now, Capt'n, shall I pilot the gentl'man out?"
"Yes, you may," cried Eben, rising so suddenly that Jack's eyes blinked, though, apart from that, not a muscle stirred. "I'll have a talk with you outside."
"Jest my idee!" said Jack, with alacrity, holding wide the door. "No place like the open sea for a collision." Again his glance questioned Mr. Reed. He was in the habit of studying that face, very much as in times past he had studied the sky to learn the weather. But the stern answer he found there, this time, disappointed him, and "saved Eben Slade from bein' stove in an' set beam-end in less than no time," as Jack elegantly remarked to himself, while Mr. George rose and bade his visitor a stiff "good-evening."