The Project Gutenberg EBook of At Sunwich Port, Part 3., by W.W. Jacobs

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: At Sunwich Port, Part 3.
Contents: Chapters 11-15

Author: W.W. Jacobs

Release Date: January 30, 2004 [EBook #10873]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT SUNWICH PORT, PART 3. ***

Produced by David Widger

AT SUNWICH PORT

BY

W. W. JACOBS

Part 3.

ILLUSTRATIONS

From Drawings by Will Owen

CHAPTER XI

Jack Nugent's first idea on seeing a letter from his father asking him to
meet him at Samson Wilks's was to send as impolite a refusal as a strong
sense of undutifulness and a not inapt pen could arrange, but the united
remonstrances of the Kybird family made him waver.

"You go," said Mr. Kybird, solemnly; "take the advice of a man wot's seen
life, and go. Who knows but wot he's a thinking of doing something for
you?"

"Startin' of you in business or somethin'," said Mrs. Kybird. "But if 'e
tries to break it off between you and 'Melia I hope you know what to
say."

"He won't do that," said her husband.

"If he wants to see me," said Mr. Nugent, "let him come here."

"I wouldn't 'ave 'im in my house," retorted Mr. Kybird, quickly. "An
Englishman's 'ouse is his castle, and I won't 'ave him in mine."

"Why not, Dan'l," asked his wife, "if the two families is to be
connected?"

Mr. Kybird shook his head, and, catching her eye, winked at her with much
significance.

"'Ave it your own way," said Mrs. Kybird, who was always inclined to make
concessions in minor matters. "'Ave it your own way, but don't blame me,
that's all I ask."

Urged on by his friends Mr. Nugent at last consented, and, in a reply to
his father, agreed to meet him at the house of Mr. Wilks on Thursday
evening. He was not free him-self from a slight curiosity as to the
reasons which had made the captain unbend in so unusual a fashion.

Mr. Nathan Smith put in an appearance at six o'clock on the fatal
evening. He was a short, slight man, with a clean-shaven face mapped with
tiny wrinkles, and a pair of colourless eyes the blankness of whose
expression defied research. In conversation, especially convers