None of the boat’s crew moved, but all at once the elderly cook broke forth in a voice of grievous exasperation:
“Godalmighty, Cap’n, whatever made ye put on your best duds? Why the hell didn’t ye get into some old slops?—an’ then I could ha’ passed for ye easy!”
The glimmer of a smile appeared in the skipper’s eyes, and his mouth quivered pathetically just for an instant. Then he said briefly:
“Maybe they would take me instead,” said David, but again his uncle seemed not to have heard.
Whinn did not speak again until he was standing on the submarine’s deck. Then steadily he addressed his nephew:
“Kind love to your mother, David; best respects to your young lady.”
To the crew: “So long, lads,” he said, and gave a little wave of the hand.
Then he was hurried below, and almost before the Hesperus’ boat was clear, the great engine of destruction began to submerge.
David sat with his face bowed in his hands, and now and then a shudder went through him.
Two nights later he was back in his mother’s house, seated with Esther at the parlor fire, which burned as grandly as on that night a month ago. Mrs. Cathles had gone to the kitchen to make the supper.
There had been a long silence. Suddenly David’s clasp of the girl’s hand tightened almost painfully.
“Esther, I don’t know what to do. . . . Ye see, when I was telling you an’ mother about Uncle Whinn, I kept back something—a lot. I couldn’t think how to tell the whole tale—to mother, anyway.”
“Ay, dreadful—in a way. Well, I’ll try and tell yourself now, an’ then, perhaps— ’Sh! I bear her comin’! ’Twill have to wait.”
Mrs. Cathles came in, but without the expected laden tray. She crossed to her accustomed place and seated herself. Presently she looked over at her son.
“David, I was thinkin’ just now, and it came on me that ye hadn’t told me everything about your uncle, my own brother, Alick. Now, dearie, ye must not keep aught back. ’Tis my right to know, and I can bear a lot nowadays.” She wetted her lips. “David, tell me true, what happened to my brother when they got him on board the U-boat. Did they—shoot him?”
“No, Mother”—David cleared his throat—“‘’twas far finer’n that! . . . Ah, well, now I’ll tell everything. ’Twas this way. You—we’ll never see Uncle Whinn again, Mother, but he was a great man. He stepped on board that U-boat as brave as a lion, and when the ’Un commander spoke to him, polite enough, too—he looked at him as if he was dirt. And then he give me the messages I ha’ told ye. And then they took him below. And then the U-boat started for to dive— Now don’t ye be too upset, Mother.”