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“Why, he ain’t got none,” whispered Bill, staring.

“Don’t be a fool, Bill,” said the cook, “he means the cap’n’s. Don’t you see he’s the cap’n now.”

It was as clear as noonday, and the agitation of the skipper–a perfect Othello in his way–was awful. He paced the deck incessantly, casting fretful glances ashore, and, as the schooner touched the side of the quay, sprang on to the bulwarks and jumped ashore. The mate watched him with an ill-concealed grin, and then, having made the vessel snug, went below to strengthen himself with a drop of the skipper’s whisky for the crowning scene of his play. He came on deck again, and, taking no heed of the whispers of the crew, went ashore.

Meantime, Captain Bradd had reached his house, and was discussing the situation with his astonished spouse. She pooh-poohed the idea of the police and the medical faculty as being likely to cause complications with the owners, and, despite the remonstrances of her husband, insisted upon facing the mate alone.

“Now you go in the kitchen,” she said, looking from the window. “Here he comes. You see how I’ll settle him.”

The skipper looked out of the window and saw the unhappy victim of Captain Zingall slowly approaching. His wife drew him away, and, despite his remonstrances, pushed him into the next room and closed the door.

She sat on the sofa calmly sewing, as the mate, whose hardihood was rapidly failing him, entered Her manner gave him no assistance whatever, and coming sheepishly in he took a chair.

“I’ve come home,” he said at last

“So I see, Ben,” said Mrs. Bradd, calmly.

“He’s told her,” said the mate to himself.

“Children all right?” he inquired, after another pause.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Bradd, simply. “Little Joe’s boots are almost off his feet, though.”

“Ah,” said the mate, blankly.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come, Ben,” said Mrs. Bradd after a pause. “I want you to change a five-pound note Uncle Dick gave me.”

“Can’t do it,” said the mate, briefly. The absence of Captain Bradd was disquieting to a bashful man in such a position, and he had looked forward to a stormy scene which was to bring him to his senses again.

“Show me what you’ve got,” said Mrs. Bradd, leaning forward.

The mate pulled out an old leather purse and counted the contents, two pounds and a little silver.

“There isn’t five pounds there,” said Mrs. Bradd, “but I may as well take last week’s housekeeping while you’ve got it out.”

Before the mate could prevent her she had taken the two pounds and put it in her pocket. He looked at her placid face in amazement, but she met his gaze calmly and drummed on the table with her thimble.

“No, no, I want the money myself,” said the mate at last. He put his hands to his head and began to prepare for the grand transformation scene. “My head’s gone,” he said, in a gurgling voice. “What am I doing here? Where am I?”

“Good gracious, what’s the matter with the man?” said Mrs. Bradd, with a scream. She snatched up a bowl of flowers and flung the contents in his face as her husband burst into the room. The mate sprang to his feet, spluttering.

“What am I doing here, Cap’n Bradd?” he said in his usual voice.

“He’s come round!” said Bradd, ecstatically. “He’s come round. Oh, George, you have been playing the fool. Don’t you know what you’ve been doing?”

The mate shook his head, and stared round the room. “I thought we were in London,” he said, putting his hand to his head. “You said Cap’n Zingall was coming aboard. How did we get here? Where am I?”

In a hurried, breathless fashion the skipper told him, the mate regarding him the while with a stare of fixed incredulity.

“I can’t understand it,” he said at length. “My mind’s a perfect blank.”

“A perfect blank,” said Mrs. Bradd, cheerfully. It might have been accident, but she tapped her pocket as she spoke, and the outwitted mate bit his lip as he realised his blunder, and turned to the door. The couple watched him as he slowly passed up the street.

“It’s most extraordinary,” said the skipper; “the most extraordinary case I ever heard of.”

“So it is,” said his wife, “and what’s more extraordinary still for you, Ben, you’re going to church on Sunday, and what’s more extraordinary even than that, you are going to put two golden sovereigns in the plate.”