ment enchanted, doomed to pump for ever. I still remember it as pure
relief when at last Pollack came to me pipe in mouth.

"The captain says the damned thing's going down right now;" he remarked,
chewing his mouthpiece. "Eh?"

"Good idea!" I said. "One can't go on pumping for ever."

And without hurry or alacrity, sullenly and wearily we got into the
boats and pulled away from the Maud Mary until we were clear of her,
and then we stayed resting on our oars, motionless upon a glassy sea,
waiting for her to sink. We were all silent, even the captain was silent
until she went down. And then he spoke quite mildly in an undertone.

"Dat is the first ship I haf ever lost.... And it was not a fair game!
It wass not a cargo any man should take. No!"

I stared at the slow eddies that circled above the departed Maud Mary,
and the last chance of Business Organisations. I felt weary beyond
emotion. I thought of my heroics to Beatrice and my uncle, of my prompt
"I'LL go," and of all the ineffectual months I had spent after this
headlong decision. I was moved to laughter at myself and fate.

But the captain and the men did not laugh. The men scowled at me and
rubbed their sore and blistered hands, and set themselves to row....

As all the world knows we were picked up by the Union Castle liner,
Portland Castle.

The hairdresser aboard was a wonderful man, and he even improvised me a
dress suit, and produced a clean shirt and warm underclothing. I had a
hot bath, and dressed and dined and drank a bottle of Burgundy.

"Now," I said, "are there any newspapers? I want to know what's been
happening in the world."

My steward gave me what he had, but I landed at Plymouth still largely
ignorant of the course of events. I shook off Pollack, and left the
captain and mate in an hotel, and the men in a Sailor's Home until I
could send to pay them off, and I made my way to the station.

The newspapers I bought, the placards I saw, all England indeed
resounded to my uncle's bankruptcy.

BOOK THE FOURTH

THE AFTERMATH OF TONO-BUNGAY

CHAPTER THE FIRST

THE STICK OF THE ROCKET

I

That evening I talked with my uncle in the Hardingham for the last time.
The atmosphere of the place had altered quite shockingly. Instead of the
crowd of importunate courtiers there were just half a dozen uninviting
men, journalists waiting for an interview. Ropper the big commissionaire
was still there, but now indeed he was defending m