In the Roaring Fifties | Page 7

So he sold the small property at Mill End, took up his few
belongings, and left Chisley quietly by night, eager to leave all the old
life behind him, anxious for the new.

Standing thus, looking out along the pathway of the Francis Cadman,
Done had reviewed his life almost daily, sometimes broadly and briefly,
as given here--sometimes going into excruciating details of suffering,
shame, terror, and hate; but his eyes were always turned forward.
Done meditated uninterruptedly for nearly an hour. Gradually the
conversation of the group behind him had drifted from his business and
the affair of the previous night to the great absorbing topic of the past
four months--Australia, the land of mad dreams, where the hills were
powdered with precious 'dust,' and the rivers purled over nuggets of
pure gold.
A hand fell upon the young man's shoulder; he turned sharply, angrily,
and beheld the bland face and trim figure of Captain Evan. With the
Captain was a handsome lady in black, who had already created in
Jim's mind a confused impression of massed raven hair and big,
innocent dark eyes that had a trick of floating up from under heavy lids
and thick, long lashes to their greatest magnitude, and then
disappearing again like revolving lights.
'All right after your plunge, my lad?' inquired the Captain heartily.
Done gave the expected reply, conscious of the eyes signalling
appreciation, and there was a pause.
'You do not inquire after the young lady, Done!'
'I've heard the men speaking of her, Captain. I understand she' pretty
well?'
'Still, a little gentlemanly attention, you know. She is most grateful.'
Done stiffened a trifle, and the line of brows asserted itself.
'I don't ape gentility,' he said quietly. 'I'm glad the young lady's well
again, but genteel formal ain't much in my line, I think.'
'Hem!' The Captain's eyes narrowed, his air of patronage lifted. He was

as gentlemanly an old sea-dog as ever bully-damned a ship from the
gates of hell on a blind night, and was proud of his first-cabin
accomplishments. 'This lady is Mrs. Donald Macdougal,' he said. 'Miss
Lucy Woodrow is Mrs. Macdougal's companion.'
Jim gathered his soft cap in a handful and bowed moderately; but the
lady held out dainty gloved fingers, and flashed her bright eyes upon
him.
'We all think you quite a hero, Mr. Done,' she lisped--' quite!'
'Fact is,' said the Captain, 'the ladies and gentle men greatly admire
your noble conduct.'
'Most noble and brave,' added Mrs. Macdougal softly.
The young man had a presentiment of mischief, and fortified himself.
'And,' the Captain continued, 'they have held a little meeting to consider
the idea of--ah, expressing their appreciation in a--er----hem!--an
adequate and proper manner.'
The Captain was quoting the chief orator--himself. He paused with an
expectant air, but Done was apparently quite impassive; evidently the
fact that the ladies and gentlemen of the first class wished to put on
record their very proper respect for British pluck and the positive
virtues by giving the hero of the moment an inscribed watch or a gold
locket did not appeal to this young man.
The pause became uneasy. If Jim had betrayed some
confusion--blushed stammered, protested--all would have been well;
but he waited calmly. Captain Evan had only two manners--his
polished, first-class maimer and his ship manner, the manner with
which he worked the Francis Cadman--and it was a mere step from one
to the other. For a moment he was perilously near assuming his natural
and most successful manner, blasting Done to the depths for a
high-stomached, adjectival swab, and commanding him out of hand to
accept the proposed honours and emoluments with proper respect and

gratitude, and be hanged to him.
'Of course,' said Mrs. Macdougal gracefully, 'only if you approve, Mr.
Done.' But the inference was that he could do nothing less with such
eyes openly beseeching him.
'I can't agree to this,' said Jim decisively, addressing himself to the
Captain.
'Oh, come, you must not be shy!' murmured the lady.
'I cannot agree to any demonstration or accept any gifts,' persisted Jim.
'You're very kind, I believe; but I'm reserved--I detest display.'
'Still, you know, my man, brave actions like yours cannot be totally
disregarded by feeling people.'
'To be sure!' from the lady.
'Captain Evan,' said the young man firmly, 'ever since I came on board
the Francis Cadman I've endeavoured to keep myself to myself. I asked
nothing from anybody on this ship, but simply to be left alone. That's
all I ask now. Perhaps I appear boorish to the lady, but the instincts of a
lifetime must be respected.' Jim spoke like an old man. The lady found
him very impressive.
'Very well, Done,' said the Captain, looking searchingly into Jim's
strong young face, 'we'll say no