The mate obeyed in silence; and for the remainder of the day the two men relieved each other at the bedside of the sailor. Towards evening, as they were entering the river which runs up to Littleport, he made decided progress under the skipper’s ministrations; and the latter thrust his huge head up the hatchway and grinned in excusable triumph at the mate as he imparted the news. Then he suddenly remembered himself, and the smile faded. The light, too, faded from the mate’s face. “’Bout that mutiny and attempted murder,” said the skipper, and paused as though waiting for the mate to contradict or qualify the terms; but he made no reply. “I give you in charge as soon as we get to port,” continued the other. “Soon as the ship’s berthed, you go below.” “Ay, ay,” said the mate, but without looking at him. “Nice thing it’ll be for your wife,” said the skipper sternly. “You’ll get no mercy from me.” “I don’t expect none,” said the mate huskily, “What I’ve done I’ll stand to.” The reply on the skipper’s lips merged into a grunt, and he went below. The sailor was asleep, and breathing gently and regularly; and after regarding him for some time the watcher returned to the deck and busied himself with certain small duties preparatory to landing. Slowly the light faded out of the sky, and the banks of the river grew indistinct; and one by one the lights of Littleport came into view as they rounded the last bend of the river, and saw the little town lying behind its veil of masts and rigging. The skipper came aft and took the helm from the mate, and looked at him out of the corner of his eye, as he stood silently waiting with his hands by his side. “Take in sail,” said the skipper shortly; and leaving the helm a bit, ran to assist him. Five minutes later the _Swallow_ was alongside of the wharf, and then, everything made fast and snug, the two men turned and faced each other. “Go below,” said the skipper sternly. The mate walked off. “And take care of that chap. I’m going ashore. If anybody asks you about these scratches, I got ’em in a row down Wapping—D’ye hear?” The mate heard, but there was a thickness in his throat which prevented him from replying promptly. By the time he had recovered his voice the other had disappeared over the edge of the wharf, and the sound of his retreating footsteps rang over the cobblestone quay. The mate in a bewildered fashion stood for a short time motionless; then he turned, and drawing a deep breath, went below. THE GREY PARROT