Ifirmlybelievethewatercamethroughthewood。Firstitbegantoooze，thentotrickle。Itwasliketryingtocarrymoistsugarinathinpaperbag。Soonweweretakinginwaterasthoughwehadopenedadoorinherbottom。
Onceitbegan，thethingwentaheadbeyondallfighting。Foradayorsowedidourbest，andIcanstillrememberinmylimbsandbackthepumping——thefatigueinmyarmsandthememoryofaclearlittledribbleofwaterthatjerkedasonepumped，andofknockingoffandthebeingawakenedtogoonagain，andoffatiguepilingupuponfatigue。Atlastweceasedtothinkofanythingbutpumping；onebecameathingoftormentenchanted，doomedtopumpforever。IstillrememberitaspurereliefwhenatlastPollackcametomepipeinmouth。
“Thecaptainsaysthedamnedthing’sgoingdownrightnow；’heremarked，chewinghismouthpiece。“Eh？”
“Goodidea！”Isaid。“Onecan’tgoonpumpingforever。”
Andwithouthurryoralacrity，sullenlyandwearilywegotintotheboatsandpulledawayfromtheMaudMaryuntilwewereclearofher，andthenwestayedrestingonouroars，motionlessuponaglassysea，waitingforhertosink。Wewereallsilent，eventhecaptainwassilentuntilshewentdown。Andthenhespokequitemildlyinanundertone。
“DatisthefirstshipIhafeverlost。Anditwasnotafairgame！Itwassnotacargoanymanshouldtake。No！”
IstaredatthesloweddiesthatcircledabovethedepartedMaudMary，andthelastchanceofBusinessOrganisations。I
feltwearybeyondemotion。IthoughtofmyheroicstoBeatriceandmyuncle，ofmyprompt“I’LLgo。”andofalltheineffectualmonthsIhadspentafterthisheadlongdecision。Iwasmovedtolaughteratmyselfandfate。
Butthecaptainandthemendidnotlaugh。Themenscowledatmeandrubbedtheirsoreandblisteredhands，andsetthemselvestorow。
AsalltheworldknowswewerepickedupbytheUnionCastleliner，PortlandCastle。
Thehairdresseraboardwasawonderfulman，andheevenimprovisedmeadresssuit，andproducedacleanshirtandwarmunderclothing。Ihadahotbath，anddressedanddinedanddrankabottleofBurgundy。
“Now。”Isaid，“arethereanynewspapers？Iwanttoknowwhat’sbeenhappeningintheworld。”
Mystewardgavemewhathehad，butIlandedatPlymouthstilllargelyignorantofthecourseofevents。IshookoffPollack，andleftthecaptainandmateinanhotel，andthemeninaSailor’sHomeuntilIcouldsendtopaythemoff，andImademywaytothestation。
ThenewspapersIbought，theplacardsIsaw，allEnglandindeedresoundedtomyuncle’sbankruptcy。
ThateveningItalkedwithmyuncleintheHardinghamforthelasttime。Theatmosphereoftheplacehadalteredquiteshockingly。Insteadofthecrowdofimportunatecourtierstherewerejusthalfadozenuninvitingmen，journalistswaitingforaninterview。Ropperthebigcommissionairewasstillthere，butnowindeedhewasdefendingmyunclefromsomethingmorethantime-wastingintrusions。Ifoundthelittlemanaloneintheinnerofficepretendingtowork，butreallybrooding。Hewaslookingyellowanddeflated。
“Lord！”hesaidatthesightofme。“You’relean，George。Itmakesthatscarofyoursshowup。”
Weregardedeachothergravelyforatime。
“Quap。”Isaid，“isatthebottomoftheAtlantic。There’ssomebills——We’vegottopaythemen。”
“Seenthepapers？”
“Read’emallinthetrain。”
“Atbay。”hesaid。“Ibeenatbayforaweek。Yelpingroundme。Andmefacingthemusic。I’mfeelin’abittired。”
Heblewandwipedhisglasses。
“Mystomackisn’twhatitwas。”heexplained。“Onefindsit——thesetimes。Howdiditallhappen，George？YourMarconigram——ittookmeinthewindabit。”
Itoldhimconcisely。Henoddedtotheparagraphsofmynarrativeandattheendhepouredsomethingfromamedicinebottleintoastickylittlewineglassanddrankit。Ibecameawareofthepresenceofdrugs，ofthreeorfoursmallbottlesbeforehimamonghisdisorderofpapers，ofafaintelusivelyfamiliarodourintheroom。
“Yes。”hesaid，wipinghislipsandrecorkingthebottle。
“You’vedoneyourbest，George。Theluck’sbeenagainstus。”
Hereflected，bottleinhand。“Sometimestheluckgoeswithyouandsometimesitdoesn’t。Sometimesitdoesn’t。Andthenwhereareyou？Grassintheoven！Fightornofight。”
Heaskedafewquestionsandthenhisthoughtscamebacktohisownurgentaffairs。Itriedtogetsomecomprehensiveaccountofthesituationfromhim，buthewouldnotgiveit。
“Oh，IwishI’dhadyou。IwishI’dhadyou，George。I’vehadalotonmyhands。You’reclearheadedattimes。”
“Whathashappened？”
“Oh！Boom！——infernalthings。”
“Yes，but——how？I’mjustoffthesea，remember。”
“It’dworrymetoomuchtotellyounow。It’stiedupinaskein。”
Hemutteredsomethingtohimselfandmuseddarkly，androusedhimselftosay——
“Besides——you’dbetterkeepoutofit。It’sgettingtight。Get’emtalking。GodowntoCrestHillandfly。That’sYOUR
affair。”
Foratimehismannersetfreequeeranxietiesinmybrainagain。
IwillconfessthatthatMordetIslandnightmareofminereturned，andasIlookedathimhishandwentoutforthedrugagain。“Stomach，George。”hesaid。
“Ibeenfightin’onthat。Everymanfightsonsomething——giveswaysomewheres——head，heart，liver——something。Zzzz。Giveswaysomewhere。Napoleondidatlast。AllthroughtheWaterloocampaign，hisstomach——itwasn’tastomach！Worsethanmine，noend。”
Themoodofdepressionpassedasthedrugworkedwithinhim。Hiseyesbrightened。Hebegantotalkbig。Hebegantodressupthesituationformyeyes，torecoverwhathehadadmittedtome。
HeputitasaretreatfromRussia。TherewerestillthechancesofLeipzig。
“It’sabattle，George——abigfight。We’refightingformillions。I’vestillchances。There’sstillacardorso。I
can’ttellallmyplans——likespeakingonthestroke。”
“Youmight。”Ibegan。
“Ican’t，George。It’slikeaskingtolookatsomeembryo。Yougottowait。Iknow。Inasortofway，Iknow。Buttotellit——No！Youbeenawaysolong。Andeverything’sgotcomplicated。”
Myperceptionofdisastrousentanglementsdeepenedwiththeriseofhisspirits。ItwasevidentthatIcouldonlyhelptotiehimupinwhatevernetwasweavingroundhismindbyforcingquestionsandexplanationsuponhim。Mythoughtsflewoffatanotherangle。“How’sAuntSusan？”saidI。
Ihadtorepeatthequestion。Hisbusywhisperinglipsstoppedforamoment，andheansweredinthenoteofonewhorepeatsaformula。
“She’dliketobeinthebattlewithme。She’dliketobehereinLondon。Butthere’scornersIgottoturnalone。”Hiseyerestedforamomentonthelittlebottlebesidehim。“Andthingshavehappened。
“Youmightgodownnowandtalktoher。”hesaid，inadirectervoice。“Ishallbedownto-morrownight，Ithink。”
Helookedupasthoughhehopedthatwouldendourtalk。
“Fortheweek-end？”Iasked。
“Fortheweek-end。ThankGodforweek-ends，George！”
MyreturnhometoLadyGrovewasaverydifferentthingfromwhatIhadanticipatedwhenIhadgotouttoseawithmyloadofquapandfanciedthePerfect-Filamentwassafewithinmygrasp。AsI
walkedthroughtheeveninglightalongthedowns，thesummerstillnessseemedlikethestillnessofsomethingnewlydead。
Therewerenolurkingworkmenanymore，nocyclistsonthehighroad。
Cessationwasmanifesteverywhere。Therehadbeen，Ilearntfrommyaunt，atouchingandquitevoluntarydemonstrationwhentheCrestHillworkhadcometoanendandthemenhaddrawntheirlastpay；theyhadcheeredmyuncleandhootedthecontractorsandLordBoom。
IcannotnowrecallthemannerinwhichmyauntandIgreetedoneanother。Imusthavebeenverytiredthere，butwhateverimpressionwasmadehasgoneoutofmymemory。ButIrecallveryclearlyhowwesatatthelittleroundtablenearthebigwindowthatgaveontheterrace，anddinedandtalked。Irememberhertalkingofmyuncle。
Sheaskedafterhim，andwhetherheseemedwell。“IwishIcouldhelp。”shesaid。“ButI’veneverhelpedhimmuch，never。Hiswayofdoingthingswasnevermine。Andsince——since。Sincehebegantogetsorich，he’skeptthingsfromme。Intheolddays——itwasdifferent。
“Thereheis——Idon’tknowwhathe’sdoing。Hewon’thavemenearhim。
“More’skeptfrommethananyone。Theveryservantswon’tletmeknow。Theytryandstoptheworstofthepapers——Boom’sthings——fromcomingupstairs。Isupposethey’vegothiminacorner，George。PooroldTeddy！PooroldAdamandEveweare！