"Is this Mrs. Jones"s?" she inquired.
"Next door but one," was the curt answer.
And even this extra minute was a reprieve.
Mrs. Jones was busy washing, and would have spoken angrily to the person who knocked so gently at the door, if anger had been in her nature; but she was a soft, helpless kind of woman, and only sighed over the many interruptions she had had to her business that unlucky Monday morning.
But the feeling which would have been anger in a more impatient temper, took the form of prejudice against the disturber, whoever he or she might be.
Mary"s fluttered and excited appearance strengthened this prejudice in Mrs. Jones"s mind, as she stood, stripping the soap-suds off her arms, while she eyed her visitor, and waited to be told what her business was.
But no words would come. Mary"s voice seemed choked up in her throat.
"Pray what do you want, young woman?" coldly asked Mrs. Jones at last.
"I want--oh! is Will Wilson here?"
"No, he is not," replied Mrs. Jones, inclining to shut the door in her face.
"Is he not come back from the Isle of Man?" asked Mary, sickening.
"He never went; he stayed in Manchester too long; as perhaps you know, already."
And again the door seemed closing.
But Mary bent forwards with suppliant action (as some young tree bends, when blown by the rough, autumnal wind), and gasped out--
"Tell me--tell--me--where is he?"
Mrs. Jones suspected some love affair, and, perhaps, one of not the most creditable kind; but the distress of the pale young creature before her was so obvious and so pitiable, that were she ever so sinful, Mrs. Jones could no longer uphold her short, reserved manner.
"He"s gone this very morning, my poor girl. Step in, and I"ll tell you about it."
"Gone!" cried "Mary. "How gone? I must see him,--it"s a matter of life and death: he can save the innocent from being hanged,--he cannot be gone,--how gone?"
"Sailed, my dear! sailed in the John Cropper this very blessed morning."
"Sailed!"
XXVII. IN THE LIVERPOOL DOCKS.
"Yon is our quay!
Hark to the clamour in that miry road, Bounded and narrowed by yon vessel"s load; The lumbering wealth she empties round the place, Package and parcel, hogshead, chest, and case; While the loud seaman and the angry hind, Mingling in business, bellow to the wind."
--CRABBE.
Mary staggered into the house. Mrs. Jones placed her tenderly in a chair, and there stood bewildered by her side.
"O father! father!" muttered she, "what have you done!--What must I do? must the innocent die?--or he--whom I fear--I fear--oh! what am I saying?" said she, looking round affrighted, and, seemingly rea.s.sured by Mrs. Jones"s countenance, "I am so helpless, so weak-- but a poor girl, after all. How can I tell what is right? Father!
you have always been so kind to me,--and you to be--never mind-- never mind, all will come right in the grave."
"Save us, and bless us!" exclaimed Mrs. Jones, "if I don"t think she"s gone out of her wits!"
"No, I am not," said Mary, catching at the words, and with a strong effort controlling the mind she felt to be wandering, while the red blood flushed to scarlet the heretofore white cheek,--"I"m not out of my senses; there is so much to be done--so much--and no one but me to do it, you know--though I can"t rightly tell what it is,"
looking up with bewilderment into Mrs. Jones"s face. "I must not go mad whatever comes--at least not yet. No!" (bracing herself up) "something may yet be done, and I must do it. Sailed! did you say?
The John Cropper? Sailed?"
"Ay! she went out of dock last night, to be ready for the morning"s tide."
"I thought she was not to sail till to-morrow," murmured Mary.
"So did Will (he"s lodged here long, so we all call him "Will"),"
replied Mrs. Jones. "The mate had told him so, I believe, and he never knew different till he got to Liverpool on Friday morning; but as soon as he heard, he gave up going to the Isle o" Man, and just ran over to Rhyl with the mate, one John Harris, as has friends a bit beyond Abergele; you may have heard him speak on him; for they are great chums, though I"ve my own opinion of Harris."
"And he"s sailed?" repeated Mary, trying by repet.i.tion to realise the fact to herself.
"Ay, he went on board last night to be ready for the morning"s tide, as I said afore, and my boy went to see the ship go down the river, and came back all agog with the sight. Here, Charley, Charley!"
She called out loudly for her son; but Charley was one of those boys who are never "far to seek," as the Lancashire people say, when anything is going on; a mysterious conversation, an unusual event, a fire, or a riot, anything in short; such boys are the little omnipresent people of this world.
Charley had, in fact, been spectator and auditor all this time; though for a little while he had been engaged in "dollying" and a few other mischievous feats in the washing line, which had prevented his attention from being fully given to his mother"s conversation with the strange girl who had entered.
"O Charley! there you are! Did you not see the John Cropper sail down the river this morning? Tell the young woman about it, for I think she hardly credits me."
"I saw her tugged down the river by a steamboat, which comes to the same thing," replied he.
"Oh! if I had but come last night!" moaned Mary. "But I never thought of it. I never thought but what he knew right when he said he would be back from the Isle of Man on Monday morning, and not afore--and now some one must die for my negligence!"
"Die!" exclaimed the lad. "How?"
"Oh! Will would have proved an alibi,--but he"s gone,--and what am I to do?"
"Don"t give it up yet," cried the energetic boy, interested at once in the case; "let"s have a try for him. We are but where we were, if we fail."
Mary roused herself. The sympathetic "we" gave her heart and hope.
"But what can be done? You say he"s sailed; what can be done?" But she spoke louder, and in a more life-like tone.
"No! I did not say he"d sailed; mother said that, and women know nought about such matters. You see" (proud of his office of instructor, and insensibly influenced, as all about her were, by Mary"s sweet, earnest, lovely countenance), "there"s sandbanks at the mouth of the river, and ships can"t get over them but at high-water; especially ships of heavy burden, like the John Cropper.
Now she was tugged down the river at low water, or pretty near, and will have to lie some time before the water will be high enough to float her over the banks. So hold up your head,--you"ve a chance yet, though, maybe, but a poor one."
"But what must I do?" asked Mary, to whom all this explanation had been a vague mystery.
"Do!" said the boy impatiently, "why, have not I told you? Only women (begging your pardon) are so stupid at understanding about anything belonging to the sea;--you must get a boat, and make all haste, and sail after him,--after the John Cropper. You may overtake her, or you may not. It"s just a chance; but she"s heavy laden, and that"s in your favour. She"ll draw many feet of water."
Mary had humbly and eagerly (oh, how eagerly!) listened to this young Sir Oracle"s speech; but try as she would, she could only understand that she must make haste, and sail--somewhere.
"I beg your pardon," (and her little acknowledgment of inferiority in this speech pleased the lad, and made him her still more zealous friend). "I beg your pardon," said she, "but I don"t know where to get a boat. Are there boat-stands?"