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Jacobs, W. W., 1863-1943

"Many Cargoes"


"She'll be on the quay, waving her handkerchief to him," said the mate.
"We'll be in to-morrow afternoon, and then you'll see her."
As it happened, the mate was a few hours out in his reckoning, for by
the time the Falcon's bows were laid for the small harbour it was quite
dark, and the little schooner glided in, guided by the two lights which
marked the entrance. The quay, seen in the light of a few scattered
lamps, looked dreary enough, and, except for two or three indistinct
figures, appeared to be deserted. Beyond, the broken lights of the town
stood out more clearly as the schooner crept slowly over the dark water
towards her berth.
"Fine night, cap'n," said the watchman, as the schooner came gently
alongside the quay.
The skipper grunted assent. He was peering anxiously at the quay.
"It's too late," said the mate. "You couldn't expect her this time
o'night. It's ten o'clock."
"I'll go over in the morning," said Evans, who, now that things had been
adjusted, was secretly disappointed that Miss Cooper had not witnessed
the meeting. "If you're not going ashore, we might have a hand o' cards
as soon's we're made fast."
The mate assenting, they went below, and were soon deep in the mysteries
of three-hand cribbage. Evans, who was a good player, surpassed himself,
and had just won the first game, the others being nowhere, when a head
was thrust down the companion-way, and a voice like a strained foghorn
called the captain by name.


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