And
he eyed him with a sympathising curiosity.
"Come, come!" continued the captain, "Speak out. What is it, boy!"
"You have seen how beautiful she is, sir," said the young man, looking up
for the moment, with a flushed face and rumpled hair.
"Did any man ever say she warn't beautiful?" retorted the captain. "If
so, go and lick him."
The young man laughed fretfully in spite of himself, and said--
"It's not that, it's not that."
"Wa'al, then, what is it?" said the captain in a more soothing tone.
The young fisherman mournfully composed himself to tell the captain what
it was, and began: "We were to have been married next Monday week--"
"Were to have been!" interrupted Captain Jorgan. "And are to be? Hey?"
Young Raybrock shook his head, and traced out with his fore-finger the
words, "_poor father's five hundred pounds_," in the written paper.
"Go along," said the captain. "Five hundred pounds? Yes?"
"That sum of money," pursued the young fisherman, entering with the
greatest earnestness on his demonstration, while the captain eyed him
with equal earnestness, "was all my late father possessed.
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