The arrangements are made now, and here she comes."
Following his gaze, the mate looked up as a stout, comely-looking woman
of middle age came along the jetty, followed by the watchman staggering
under a box of enormous proportions.
"Jim!" cried the lady.
"Halloa!" cried the skipper, starting uneasily at the title. "We've been
expecting you for some time."
"There's a row on with the cabman," said the lady calmly. "This silly
old man"--the watchman snorted fiercely--"let the box go through the
window getting it off the top, and the cabman wants ME to pay. He's out
there using language, and he keeps calling me grandma--I want you to
have him locked up."
"Come down below now," said the skipper; "we'll see about the cab. Mrs.
Blossom--my mate. George, go and send that cab away."
Mrs. Blossom, briefly acknowledging the introduction, followed the
skipper to the cabin, while the mate, growling under his breath, went
out to enter into a verbal contest in which he was from the first
hopelessly overmatched.
The new cook, being somewhat fatigued with her journey, withdrew at an
early hour, and the sun was well up when she appeared on deck next
morning. The wharves and warehouses of the night before had disappeared,
and the schooner, under a fine spread of canvas, was just passing
Tilbury.
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