"Because, you see, I shall be down at Blackwall, looking after the
repairs, for it will be sharp work to get finished against you want to
sail for Rio. So, you see, I shall be out of the way. And if you did go
back to that house alone, Lord knows what they might try on."

"Don't you be afraid, Joyce. In the first place I shan't go back there
till twelve o'clock on the fifth. I'll come up from Plymouth by the
night coach, and put up at the 'Golden Cross' like a gentleman. And, in
the second place, I flatter myself I'm a match for any set of
land-sharks in creation."

"No, you're not, captain. No honest man is ever a match for a
scoundrel."

Jernam and his companion carried the captain's portmanteau between
them. They hailed a hackney-coach presently, and drove to the "Golden
Cross," through the chill, gray streets, where the closed shutters had
a funereal aspect.

At the coach-office they parted, with many friendly words on both
sides; but to the last, Joyce Harker was grave and anxious.

The last he saw of his friend and employer was the captain's dark face
looking out of the coach-window; the captain's hand waved in cordial
farewell.

"What a good fellow he is!--what a noble fellow!" thought the wizen
little clerk, as he trudged back towards the City. "But was there ever
a baby so helpless on shore?--was there ever an innocent infant that