everything on his return. Her relief was only partial; she was already
experienced enough in his vocation to know that the excuse was a feeble
one. He could easily have "fetched" the bluff in tacking out of the Gate
and have signaled to her to board him in her own boat. The next day she
locked up her house, rowed round the Point to the Embarcadero, where
the Bay steamboats occasionally touched and took up passengers to San
Francisco. Captain Simmons had not seen her husband this last trip;
indeed, did not know that he had gone out of the Bay. Mrs. Bunker was
seized with a desperate idea. She called upon the Secretary of the
Fishing Trust. That gentle man was business-like, but neither expansive
nor communicative. Her husband had NOT been ordered out to sea by them;
she ought to know that Captain Bunker was now his own master, choosing
his own fishing grounds, and his own times and seasons. He was not
aware of any secret service for the Company in which Captain Bunker was
engaged. He hoped Mrs. Bunker would distinctly remember that the little
matter of the duel to which she referred was an old bygone affair,
and never anything but a personal matter, in which the Fishery had no
concern whatever, and in which HE certainly should not again engage. He
would advise Mrs. Bunker, if she valued her own good, and especially her
husband's, to speedily forget all about it. These were ugly times, as
it was. If Mrs. Bunker's services had not been properly rewarded or
considered it was certainly a great shame, but really HE could not be
expected to make it good. Certain parties had cost him trouble enough
already. Besides, really, she must see that his position between her
husband, whom he respected, and a certain other party was a delicate
one. But Mrs. Bunker heard no more. She turned and ran down the
staircase, carrying with her a burning cheek and blazing eye that
somewhat startled the complacent official.

She did not remember how she got home again. She had a vague