Commodore Junk — page 351: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

344 COMMODORE JUNK. heard more, too, of their struggles to reach a port, and of the rescue which had been planned and successfully carried out. One evening as Humphrey Armstrong sat on deck wonder- ing to himself that he could be so changed as to look with distaste upon the western shores of England, gilded by the evening sun, he became conscious of another presence close behind, and looking sharply round it was to see the haggard, worn face of Bart as he stood there, bent and terribly changed by mental suffering, and his wounds, As he saw Humphrey Armstrong gaze wonderingly at him he raised one hand and pointed to the dimly-seen cliff-line, ruddy in the western glow. “ Home, sir,” he cried, hoarsely. “Yes, Bart, home,” said Humphrey, gloomily. ‘ What are you going to do?” “You know best, sir. Prison, or the rope?” Humphrey started sadly, and held out his hand, which the rough fellow, after a momentary hesitation, took. “ Bart, my lad,” said Humphrey, “why not take the old cottage and settle down to your former life? I should like it if you’d do this thing. Will you?” «Will I!” said the poor fellow in suffocating tones. ‘God bless you, sir! You've made me happier than I ever hoped to be again.” “Take it or buy it, Bart, as soon as you reach home. I wish it done, only it is to be kept unchanged, as we two keep her secret.” A fortnight had passed, during which period Humphrey Armstrong had kept himself quite in seclusion, when in obedience to a stern resolve he journeyed slowly up to town. CONnnicloOokkxs.c© =>