[Illustration:  “Tapping the steward on the chest with a confidential finger, he backed him into a corner.”]

“I thought you’d be alone,” he said, looking round, “but p’r’aps it’s just as well as it is.  They’ve got to know, so they may as well know now as later on.”

“Know what?” inquired Jack Nugent, abruptly.  “What are you making that face for, Sam?”

Mr. Wilks mumbled something about a decayed tooth, and to give colour to the statement continued a series of contortions which made his face ache.

“You should take something for that tooth,” said the boarding-master, with great solicitude.  “Wot do you say to a glass o’ whisky?”

He motioned to the fatal bottle, which still stood on the table; the steward caught his breath, and then, rising to the occasion, said that he had already had a couple of glasses, and they had done no good.

“What’s your message?” inquired Jack Nugent, impatiently.

“I’m just going to tell you,” said Mr. Smith.  “I was out early this morning, strolling down by the harbour to get a little appetite for breakfast, when who should I see coming along, looking as though ’e ’ad just come from a funeral, but Cap’n Nugent!  I was going to pass ’im, but he stopped me and asked me to take a message from ’im to ’is old and faithful steward, Mr. Wilks.”

“Why, has he gone away?” exclaimed Mrs. Kingdom.

“His old and faithful steward,” repeated Mr. Smith, motioning her to silence. “’Tell ‘im,’ he says, ’that I am heartily ashamed of myself for wot took place last night—­and him, too.  Tell ’im that, after my father’s ’art proved too much for me, I walked the streets all night, and now I can’t face may injured son and family yet awhile, and I’m off to London till it has blown over.’”

“But what’s it all about?” demanded Nugent.  Why don’t you get to the point?”

“So far as I could make out,” replied Mr. Smith, with the studious care of one who desires to give exact information, “Cap’n Nugent and Mr. Wilks ’ad a little plan for giving you a sea blow.”

“Me?” interrupted the unfortunate steward.  “Now, look ’ere, Nathan Smith——­”

“Them was the cap’n’s words,” said the boarding-master, giving him a glance of great significance; “are you going to take away or add to wot the cap’n says?”

Mr. Wilks collapsed, and avoiding the indignant eyes of the Nugent family tried to think out his position.

“It seems from wot the cap’n told me,” continued Mr. Smith, “that there was some objection to your marrying old—­Mr. Kybird’s gal, so ’e and Mr. Wilks, after putting their ’eads together, decided to get you ’ere and after giving you a little whisky that Mr. Wilks knows the trick of—­”

“Me?” interrupted the unfortunate steward, again.

“Them was the cap’n’s words,” said Mr. Smith, coldly.  “After you’d ’ad it they was going to stow you away in the Seabird, which sailed this morning.  However, when the cap’n see you overcome, his ’art melted, and instead o’ putting you aboard the whaler he took your feet and Mr. Wilks your ‘ead, and after a great deal o’ trouble got you upstairs and put you to bed.”