It was the man Aaron Glass,
and, recognizing him, I (that had been standing directly under the
light of the quay-lamp) drew back from the edge into the darkness.
I had done better, perhaps, to stand where I was. How long he had
been observing me--if, indeed, he had observed me--I could not tell.
But, as I drew back, he advanced and strolled nonchalantly past me,
at five yards distance, down to the quay-steps.
"All aboard for St. Mawes!" called the skipper, drawing in his plank.
"All but one, captain!" answered Glass, and, disdaining it, without
removing his hands from his pockets, put a foot upon the bulwark and
sprang lightly on to her deck.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAOS IN THE CAPTAIN'S LODGINGS.
I leave you to guess what were my feelings as foot by foot the
packet's quarter fell away wider of the quay. If, as the skipper
thrust off, I had found presence of mind to jump for her, who knows
what mischief might have been prevented? I could at least--whatever
the consequences--have called a warning to Captain Coffin to give his
enemy a wide-berth. But I was unnerved; the impulse came too late;
and as the foresail filled and she picked up steerage way, I stood
helpless under the lamp at the quay-head--stood and stared after her,
alone with the sense of my incredible folly.
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