The pink in Rose's pretty face turned as white as the flour she had been
kneading. "Have they found him guilty, father?"

"Not exactly that, my gal, but it looks black for the lad, as black as
the pit."

"But he's _not_ guilty!" cried the girl. "Nothing will persuade me to
believe that."

"We must bail him out," said her father. "Bring me my deed-box."

Rose rustled from the room, and presently returned with a square,
japanned, tin box, which bore her father's initials upon its lid.

The Pilot took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and quickly unlocked the
box.

Upon the bare, polished table he placed a number of Bank deposit
receipts.

"I can't do it," he said; "no more can Sartoris. But _you_ can, my gal.
Just add up these amounts, Cap'n, while I explain." He handed the
receipts to Sartoris.

"It isn't often I've mentioned your uncle to you, Rosebud. But he's a
rich man, more than ordinary rich, my dear. Ever since you were a little
dot, so high, he's sent me money as reg'lar as the clock. I've never
asked 'im for it, mind ye; and, what's more, I've never spent a penny of
it. I wouldn't touch it, because I don't bear him any love whatever.
Before you was born, my gal, he did me a most unforgivable wrong, an'
he thinks money will wipe it out. But it won't: no, no, it won't.
Howsomever, I banked all that money in your name, as it kept coming in;
and there it's been piling up, till I don't really know how much there
mayn't be. What's the total, Sartoris? Give us the total, man."

But the Captain had forgotten his calculation, in open-mouthed
astonishment.

"'Arf-a-minute, 'arf-a-minute," he said, quickly giving his attention to
the papers which lay before him. "Fifteen hundred and two thousand is
three thousand, five hundred; and thirteen hundred is four thousand,
eight hundred; and seven hundred and seventy-five is---- Why, there's
more money here than ever I saw in a skipper's house before. I'll need a
pencil and a bit o' paper, Miss Rose. There's a mint o' money--as much
as would bail out a duke."

Supplied with stationery, he slowly made his calculation; the Pilot
watching him unconcernedly, and Rose checking the amounts one by one.

At last he found his total, and drew a line under it.

"Well, what is it?" asked the Pilot.

"I make it ten thousand, seven hundred and seventy-five pound," he said.
"Goodness, girl, here's all this money!--and you baking and scrubbing as
if you was a servant. Summerh