Stimcoe. But Mr. Stimcoe lay
upstairs chattering, and Captain Branscome appeared to be taking a
protracted holiday. It hardly occurred to me to wonder why.
It was borne in upon me later that during this interval of anarchy in
the Stimcoe establishment--it lasted two days, and may have lasted
longer for aught I know--I wasted little wonder on the continued
absence of Captain Branscome. I was indeed kept anxious by my own
fears, which did not decrease as the hours dragged by. From the
window of Mr. Stimcoe's sickroom I watched the St. Mawes packet
plying to and fro. I had a mind to steal down to the Market Strand
and interrogate her skipper. I had a mind--and laid more than one
plan for it--to follow up my first impulse of bolting for home, to
discover if Captain Coffin had arrived there. But Mrs. Stimcoe,
misinterpreting my eagerness to be employed, had by this time
enlisted me into full service in the sick-room. After the first hint
of surprised gratitude, she betrayed no feeling at all, but bound me
severely to my task. We took the watching turn and turn about, in
spells of three hours' duration. I was held committed, and could not
desert without a brand on my conscience. The disgusting feature of
this is that I was almost glad of it, at the same time longing to
run, and feeling that this, in a way, exonerated me.
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