NEW ZEALAND STORIES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVII, Issue 4, 24 January 1912, Page 55

NEW ZEALAND STORIES.

The Editor desires to state that Neto Zealand Stories by New Zealand writers, arc published on this page regularly. The page is open to any contributor, and all accepted stories will be paid for at current .rates. Terse bright Sketches of Dominion life and people, woecn in short story form, are required,.and should be headed "New Zealand Stories.” Stamps for return of MS. must be enclosed

SKIPPERS ELUSIVE.

THIRD PRIZE STORY, AUCKLAND COMPETITIONS. HENRY GIBSON, WAIHI.

THE portmanteau was heavy, the way was long, and the misty rain demanded the use of an umbrella, but at length the skippers wife arrived at the ferry ■steps, tired, damp, and decidedly out of temper. “I say, me man!’’ she bawled to a boatman, “do you know where the Pearl is lying?” “A lyin’ with the roobies on yer cheeks, mum!” "Don’t be silly!” was the coy rejoinder; "1 mean the Pearl, the scowboat!” "Are you that wife o’ Page's, wot's been huntin' round for ’im?” “Xever mind who I am! I’m going to my husband, who's Capting of the Pearl”; and the lady stamped her foot vexatious! v. The ferryman backed the stern of his boat to the steps, and gazed fixedly at his passenger as lie stowed the portmanteau on the after-thwart and helped its owner aboard. “Yes’m,” he remarked meditatively; “I knows the vessel and her ekipper, too, and I loves to see voting couples so affectionate like!” As the boat moved off, the glare of the wharf lights fell upon the lady's face. The rower spat overboard, and feelingly murmured: “Pore ole Page!” "What's that you say, you wretch’?” “Oh, I say, missis, ring orf!” drawled the boatman between his steady strokes. "You talk like that bloke by the name o’ Clancy—he’s skipper o' one o' them seows out in the stream. He an’ Page, they just got me inter a awful row! They up and tells my missis all about me and Sally McGuire ”

“I don’t want to hear about you and your goin’s on!” snapped Mrs. Page. “Is this the Pearl?’’ •‘lt am!” And he spat ostentatiously, to draw attention from the belying nameplate as they swung round the starboard bow. The boat solemnly bumped alongside a graceful craft, whose lofty spars tapered indistinctly towards the darkening sky. Mrs. Page scrambled awkwardly up the side, and tendered the ferryman six coppers as he parsed t’ae portmeantea a aboard. “Good-tye, and go and sign the pledge.’’ she remarked vindictively. “Good-bye, and go and sign your marriage certificate! 1 ’ bawled the boatman in a strangely prophetic tone, as he swiftly rowed away. “Well, mum, what can I do for you?’’ >a:d a voice at Mrs. Page’s elbow. •’Lor*.' What a fright I got! I suppose you’re one of the men?’’ “I’m mate of this scow, ma’am. What is it you’re wanting?*’ “I’m the Capting’s wife, and I’m going with him. Where is he?*’ “They—they—they are all ashore, mum?” gasped the astounded seaman. “I’m the only one aboard!” “When are yon going to start?’’ “Soon as the skipper and crew comes aboard, mum!” “Well, don’t stand there staring at me! Take my luggage downstairs!” The mate shouldered the portmanteau, and sulkily led the way ait. ‘“There you are, misste: that's the skipper’s cabin below there!” And he lowered the bag on the bight of a rope. “To think'” he soliloquised, going for’ard and sitting on the winch. “To think that Jim Clancy should take on this here religion as he does, and pre-

tend he’s >o fond of the other wife, that poor little Mrs. Claiu-y up at Pongaroo! Just let him preach to me again, the hipper. rit! ’’ But soon the sound of voices ;tpproaching the scow aroused the mate, from his ethical musings, and he hastened to greet the skipper. “Good evening. Cap'n Clancy!” he solemnly began. “Hullo. Andy! AH clear, eh?” an I the skipper climbed aboard. “Cp dinghy!” he ordered. “Stand by the hoists when we make the channel? I say, Andy,” and he turned to the mate, “you’re looking awfully glum. What’s up?” “Oh—er—nothing!” But the calculated sigh and the dolorous tone prompted further questioning. “What’s the matter with you?’’ demanded his superior. “Well, to tell you the truth, I didn’t think it of you. Cap’n!’’ “Think what? What the deuce do you mean?” But at that intrant Tarry, the deckhand, appeared from the cabin, where the engine was stowed. “Beg panion, Cap’n!” he said, excitedly. “There’s a lady in your cabin! I seen her in the bunk! 1 think she’s asleep, sir!” Clancy hastily turned to his male for an explanation. “Larry’s right. Cap’n. A lady did come aboard—said she was your wife!*' And Andy waited for the' explosion. But the skipper became most aggressively happy. “My wife!” he said, cheerily. “Well, now. that's just like the little woman! She’s often sail she’d give me a pleasant surprise some day!” “But I thought Mrs. Clancy was at

Pongaroo!’’ ventured the be Ide re J mate. “So did I!” was the brek reply* “It’s real pluvky ui her to come all that way utone, and 1 sent her a wire to meet us at the Pongaroo boom* in the morning, too! Go below, Kirry t ami shut my door. Dinghy aboard, there!” “Aye, aye, sir; an’ all clear for’ard.’’ “Eight away!” responded the skipper. •'Get the hea Is’ls ready, Andy. Don’t stand there, mar? Heave on the stayhoist! Lively now!” and he took the wheel as the vi*--e| slowly gatherer B it a strange voice hailed from out the darkness, and a boat pulled quick* )y alongside. “S’ow ahoy, there!” “Stop her, Larry! Ahoy there! What do you want?” “Ain’t you got a passenger for the shore?” “What the deuce do you mean?” “Wot 1 sez! Ain’t this the Firefly?*’ “Yes. What about it?” Beer quickens ideas, ami boatman Barton pondered a moment. “Is that Cap’n Clancy?” he persisted, beginning to see how things stood. “I’m Clancy. What’s your business?’ 1 “Ain’t there no one for the shore’” “No, 1 tell you!” A brief pause, and the neeessary lift prompted itself to the plotting waterman. “Pollard Brothers told me this afternoon to pull out and tell you they wants to see you to morrer mornin’ about their big scow, wot they’ve just built, an’ Mr. White, the mate, has got to take the Eirefiy this trip to Ponga“W hv didn’t you tell me all this be- “’( <>s I took bad, and had to take a little brandy. Jest in time, ain’t I?” The skipper Mapped his thigh. “You understand. Andy?” he •ailed to his gloomy mate. “1 have to see the firm in the morning. That means I’ll get the Petrel. You’ll reach Pangaroo about ten in the morning. Don’t disturb Mrs. Clancy. It's too late to take her ashore now. See her safe home for me, and explain, you know !” and before his mate had time to reply Clancy had tumbled over the side and aboard the ferry. “Well, I’m bio wed!” muttered Andy, as lie gazed through the darkness at the receding skill’. “He's el eared out and left her! No more of them Limited Methodists for me! Poor Mrs. Clancy, what ain’t Mrs. Clancy!” But a passing steamer, outwards coastwise, demanded careful steering, and attracted attention from problems conjugal. “Is the lady all light. Cap’n Clancy?” asked the wily boatman, as soon as the scow was well out of sight. “Oh. it’s you. Barton, is it? 1 hope your wife appreciates the information I gave her, and acted upon I wonder that my owners would trust you with that message. But what do you know about the lady?” “Well, considerin' as *<w I pulled her out to the scow, and Mie vailed me names and said ” ‘‘That’ll do! No- a word about my wifi!” The oirs n< ul\ fr’l f> mm Barton’s Lands, and the fii.l . taf! Mi<n«k with his mirth, lie -kipper, greath annoy«d and perplexed. but too dignified tn .i-k queMions. hastily stepped a Micro and made off to his It.doings. “(.‘nod-night. Cap’n ’ lan.-v!” bawled ♦L- Loati.ian. and wild laughter e. hoed among the «rrtomn w«- piles nf the wharf. “Is that the Firefly coming round the Point, Mr. Harvey?” asked Airs. ( Jancy. a dainty little woman of pleasant demeanour. “Aye. my lass, that’s tie Firefly,” responded the genial manager of the Pongaroo Timber Company. “I can’t make it out, Mr. Harvey; this telegram cairn* from dim yesterday. It -a vs, ‘Meet Firclh at main booms about ten tomorrow.' and now here’s another jii-t «oine: ‘Forgive my forsaking you. Andy will explain. Other mm h prefeirtl le.’ What does he mean, Mr. Harvey?” “He’s evidently stayed in Amklanl for some reason.” replied the manager. “However, you'll soon know, Atrs. < ‘an. y. But ex. use my running off. Mi '. Harvey wants t«> photograph that sp< - men mottled kauri Udore Skipper Page goes to *ea with the Pearl. See you later.’' But Mr. Harvey had his miz-givinga when the Ke\. Mr. Spooner met him, and in ominous MUm <• handed Mm ai

anonymous telegram, addressed to ‘‘The Methodic Pardon, Pongaroo,” and which ivud* ‘‘Tell Clancy to mrel llw Firefly and the captain’s latest fumy.” Meaawiule the waiting wife, incomplete ignorant* of the ferryman and his diplojuatiu telegram, impatiently watched the approaching vessel. “Everything seems to be silly this morning,'’ she mused. ‘‘But here comes the Firefly. Who’s that —what's that ? Why, there’s a great gaunt looking woman -aboard. Aly!” And ail manner of feminine sentiments eante into play. ‘There’s White, the mate, anyhow. Who can that woman be? What a fright of a hat! I wonder if she's married! Bail! Good Seavens! Oh, he can't mean 1 Oh! ‘The other preferable.’ Heavens! I shall faint! Air. White! Mr. White!” hn,l she hailed her husband's eraft, now .Warping alongside. i “Right, Mrs Caney. I'm coming •shore right away!” ‘"And so am 1!” cried ‘the g-iunt-looking woman,’ gathering up her skirts. The Firefly was no sooner moored than Jhe mate, closely followed by Mrs. Page, brassed the boom planks and gained the ‘‘Where's Jim. Mr. White*” demanded the expectant wife. “This woman, Mr«. Clancy. is the ■Oap-’n's choice!” said White, dramatically pointing to his recent passenger ‘This •tort of thing.” he explained, with misterful' smbigtt tv. "is what comes of being a Tamited Method;--.!” “What's all this row about'” de--he astonished Mrs. Page -iff feotHse I'-r the Capping’s wife, and t' v lell me the ras al slipped a •ay in a feoat last nigld because he was t h> « ire I io face the n ■' Wh > is t! is person, Mr Mate'” “This lady, ma’am, is another wit.-!” Mrs. Clancy had by this time turn-I ashy pale. On hearing White’s final pronouncement she bit her lips and clenched her fi-ts. and without uttering a word turned and walked steadily to her home. “Mrs. Alamy, indeed!” cried Mrs. Pige, real - i'g the turn of events. “That minx taking tip with my Jerry Page! Only wait till I get at him! 1 say”; she bawled, rapidly pulling herseit together and getting a firmer grip ot her umbrella. “I say, you mate there! Whi of t■ m boats ; S going ba.-k to Auckland first?” But Airly gazed out to sea, and softly whistled to himself. “Can’t you answer a civil question? V" . - ' - I, Jerry p,-._. - " “I can't be seen speaking to you, ma'am!” said Andy, now completely pj. --tri. ken at her relationship to yet another skipper. “Jerry's on that scow at t ie mill whirr!” ’ -i!-’ Larry desperately. Mrs. Page instantly clapped on al! •ail. a: 1 !«>re ' n on the doomed Wessel. ■. ven. si -'- g me"' sighed Andy. “Poor Mrs C lancy, and now t - “after 1 - - " &lia seems to kno-r ’em all. If that woman, comes ba'/ y-xill have to take the Firefly down - Auckland yourself, Larry." Meanwhile, mar. »ger Harvey’s wife was busy focussing her camera upon a gracef div marked -jar ..iii.li lay on the deck of tr>e Pearl. “Whit a beauty »l-e is. Captain Page!” presently remark-1 t' e lady from under the biack cloth. “She is a beaut -. mnm: but I've had ’ .- . ... There’s r I had with i b-fter shaped body. I used to try ‘ ■ put my arms around her waist to show * “Oh. you l‘-i. lid yon' Then t ake that —and that—and that!” Ifcr/n came Mrs. Pages umbrella oa the irrnoeent •ktpner’s head. “Yon won't jut your arms r mi her waist again, my man. Take at " and the MBbrel'a swung •gain. Tie uniuekr mariner, with a terrin-4 gtan<» at Lis ferocious wife. pr» -.1-.- . •' 1 below, bewildered 3B d h.Uf-t meet "DtY •' * ♦Trip!” a. rearned the inf’iriaterf W-- Pag*, and the manager's wife b—t no line n ol.e.ing, Bung! came t!>s umbrella vgarn, ami orerturri went the .-aurera. "IL-re m —. *r* you one o’ the “I are. replied Tommy the mate getting behind the brnaaHe. '.t . . Mr. Page, amt ttlM !‘-re Ksafs the I> ar! It'» wrote on the hack end th-re” “Who «ai.f ft wasn't'* j.m tal» Hke that, my maa?" •mi Tommy di wired, an the umbrella

quivered threateningly. “What's the name of that boat- over there?” ■‘That ? That’s the Firetly.” The dilemma was too much to bear. A flood of tears was the only resort, ,;nd Mrs. Page drv v forth a red-spotted handkerchief ci large area, dabbed it over her hot face, and sobbed hysterically. ■'■Oh, I say,” said the soft-hearted Tomniv. "Don't take on like that! You'd bt ter ” Bat sympathy breeds emotion, and. to the huge delight of the crew, the lady suddenly flung her arms round Tommy’s neck. “Oh. how I'm treated!” she liegan, but Tomn-y rudely sprang from t ie un- eleonie grasp and hastily requested one of the* shore loungers to “Cast off them springs.” “Oh, how I'm bamlwozled by the lot o’ you!” continued the distracted lady, making for the companion-way. “It was his scow as was to leave Auckland last night, and now—and here—and now —oh! my port man! er! Where's my portmanfer?” "We ain't going to wait for nothink or nobody."' exclaimed the wrathful Tommy. “Lord!” he eddeil. in security, as Mrs. Page disappeared below. “Won't the skipper 'are a 'oneymoon!” The Pearl was warped out under Tommy's temporary captaincy, for Page did not appear. The whole population of Pongoroa turned out to see the vessel leave her moorings, for news travels fast.

“To think!” said Mrs. Harvey, “to taink that such a woman should be the real wife of Captain Clancy! And now she rec' gnises another. Shocking!” ‘•Shocking!" diplomatically echoed the workmen’s wives. Meanwhile, Captain Clancy, standing with rage on the Auckland wharf, opened an urgent telegram from Manager Harvey, and gisped as he read, “One of your wives selling off. and returning to 1 er mother. The other has sailed with ' "aptain Page. Better resign.” And Ferryman Barton, full of Joy and beer, hastily secured a fireman's berth on a Sydney hirer, outward bound.