Rivers of Ice | Page 9

but a coating of dirt and a blue skirt. Besides,
Willum told me at parting to look after you and see that you wanted for
nothing, which I promised faithfully to do. You've some regard for
Willum's wishes, ma'am?--you wouldn't have me break my promises to
Willum, would you?"
The Captain said this with immense rapidity and vigour, and finished it
with such a blow of his heavy fist on the little table that the cups and
plates danced, and the lid of the little tea-pot leaped up as if its heart
were about to come out of its mouth. Mrs Roby was so taken by
surprise that she could not speak for a few seconds, and before she had
recovered sufficiently to do so, Little Netta came in with the butter.
"Now, ma'am," resumed the Captain, when the girl had retired, "here's
where it is. With your leave I'll reveal my plans to you, and ask your
advice. When I was about to leave Californy, Willum told me first of
all to go and find you out, and give you that letter and bag of nuggets,
which I've done. `Then,' says he, `Wopper, you go and find out my
brother Jim's widow, and give 'em my love an' dooty, and this letter,
and this bag of nuggets,'--said letter and bag, ma'am, bein' now in my
chest aboard ship. `So,' says I, `Willum, I will--trust me.' `I do,' says he;
`and, Wopper,' says he, `keep your weather eye open, my boy, w'en you
go to see 'em, because I've my suspicions, from what my poor brother

said on his deathbed, when he was wandering in his mind, that his
widow is extravagant. I don't know,' Willum goes on to say, `what the
son may be, but there's that cousin, Emma Gray, that lives in the house
with 'em, she's all right. She's corresponded with me, off an' on, since
ever she could write, and my brother bein' something lazy, poor fellar,
through havin' too much to do I fancy, got to throw all the letter-writin'
on her shoulders. You take special note of her, Wopper, and if it should
seem to you that they don't treat her well, you let me know.' `Willum,'
says I, `I will--trust me.' `Well, then,' says Willum, `there's one other
individooal I want you to ferret out, that's the gentleman--he must be an
old gentleman now--that saved my life when I was a lad, Mr Lawrence
by name. You try to find him out and if you can do him a good turn, do
it.' `Willum,' says I, `I'll do it--trust me.' `I do,' says he, `and when may
I expect you back in Californy, Wopper?' `Willum,' says I, `that
depends.' `True,' says he, `it does. Give us you're flipper, old boy, we
may never meet again in these terrestrial diggings. Good luck to you.
Don't forget my last will an' testimony as now expressed.' `Willum,'
says I, `I won't.' So, ma'am, I left Californy with a sacred trust, so to
speak, crossed the sea, and here I am."
At this point Captain Wopper, having warmed in his subject, took in at
one bite as much of the small loaf as would have been rather a heavy
dinner for Mrs Roby, and emptied at one gulp a full cup of her tea, after
which he stroked his beard, smiled benignantly at his hostess, became
suddenly earnest again, and went on--chewing as he spoke.
"Now, ma'am, I've three questions to ask: in the first place, as it's not
possible now to do a good turn to old Mr Lawrence, I must do it to his
son. Can you tell me where he lives?"
Mrs Roby told him that it was in a street not far from where they sat, in
a rather poor lodging.
"Secondly, ma'am, can you tell me where Willum's sister-in-law lives,--
Mrs Stout, alias Stoutley?"
"No, Captain Wopper, but I daresay Mr Lawrence can. He knows 'most
everythink, and has a London Directory."

"Good. Now, in the third place, where am I to find a lodging?"
Mrs Roby replied that there were plenty to be found in London of all
kinds.
"You haven't a spare room here, have you?" said the Captain, looking
round.
Mrs Roby shook her head and said that she had not; and, besides, that if
she had, it would be impossible for her to keep a lodger, as she had no
servant, and could not attend on him herself.
"Mrs Roby," said the Captain, "a gold-digging seaman don't want no
servant, nor no attendance. What's up aloft?"
By pointing to a small trap-door in the ceiling, he rendered the question
intelligible.
"It's a garret, I believe," replied Mrs Roby, smiling; "but having no
ladder, I've never been up."
"You've no objection