And with that there comes a voice crying pillaloo in the passage
outside; and, without so much as a knock, a woman runs in with a face
like a sheet--Sam Hockaday's wife, from the "Sailor's Return."
"Oh, Mr. Oke--Mr. Oke, whatever is to be done! The press has
collared Sally Hancock and all her gang! Some they've kilt, and
wounded others, and all they've a-bound and carried off and shipped
at the Quay-door. Oh, Mr. Oke, our house is ruined for ever!"
The men gazed at her with their mouths open. Hancock found his legs
somehow; but they shook under him, and all of a sudden he felt
himself turning white and sick.
"You don't mean to tell me--" he began.
But Pengelly rounded on him and took him by the ear so that he
squeaked. "Where's my wife, you miserable joker, you?" demanded
Pengelly.
"They c-can't be in earnest!"
"You'll find that I am," said Pengelly, feeling in his
breeches-pocket, and drawing out a clasp-knife almost a foot long.
"What's the name of the ship?"
"I--I don't know! I never inquired! Oh, please let me go, Mr.
Pengelly! Han't I got my feelings, same as yourself?"
"There's a score of vessels atween this and Cawsand," put in
Treleaven, catching his breath like a man hit in the wind, "and half
a dozen of 'em ready to weigh anchor any moment.
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