“Ill?” inquired the captain.

“Ill-tempered,” said Pepper.  “In fact, cap’n, I don’t mind telling you, she’s killing me—­slowly killing me!”

“Pooh!” said Crippen.  “Nonsense!  You don’t know how to manage her!”

“I thought perhaps you could advise me,” said the artful Pepper.  “I said to myself yesterday, ’Pepper, go and see Cap’n Crippen.  What he don’t know about wimmen and their management ain’t worth knowing!  If there’s anybody can get you out of a hole, it’s him.  He’s got the power, and, what’s more, he’s got the will!’”

“What causes the temper?” inquired the captain, with his most judicial air, as he took the liquor from his messenger and carefully filled a couple of glasses.

“It’s natural!” said his friend ruefully.  “She calls it having a high spirit herself.  And she’s so generous.  She’s got a married niece living in the place, and when that gal comes round and admires the things—­my things—­she gives ’em to her!  She gave her a sofa the other day, and, what’s more, she made me help the gal to carry it home!”

“Have you tried being sarcastic?” inquired the captain thoughtfully.

“I have,” said Pepper, with a shiver.  “The other day I said, very nasty, ‘Is there anything else you’d like, my dear?’ but she didn’t understand it.”

“No?” said the captain.

“No,” said Pepper.  “She said I was very kind, and she’d like the clock; and, what’s more, she had it too!  Red-’aired hussy!”

The captain poured out some gin and drank it slowly.  It was evident he was thinking deeply, and that he was much affected by his friend’s troubles.

“There is only one way for me to get clear,” said Pepper, as he finished a thrilling recital of his wrongs, “and that is, to find Cap’n Budd, her first.”

“Why, he’s dead!” said Crippen, staring hard.  “Don’t you waste your time looking for him!”

“I’m not going to,” said Pepper; “but here’s his portrait.  He was a big man like you; he had blue eyes and a straight handsome nose, like you.  If he’d lived to now he’d be almost your age, and very likely more like you than ever.  He was a sailor; you’ve been a sailor.”

The captain stared at him in bewilderment.

“He had a wonderful way with wimmen,” pursued Jackson hastily; “you’ve got a wonderful way with wimmen.  More than that, you’ve got the most wonderful gift for acting I’ve ever seen.  Ever since the time when you acted in that barn at Bristol I’ve never seen any actor I can honestly say I’ve liked—­never!  Look how you can imitate cats—­better than Henry Irving himself!”

“I never had much chance, being at sea all my life,” said Crippen modestly.

“You’ve got the gift,” said Pepper impressively.  “It was born in you, and you’ll never leave off acting till the day of your death.  You couldn’t if you tried—­you know you couldn’t!”

The captain smiled deprecatingly.