"None o' ye got anything to say? Well, then, I'll tell you what I'm
ready to do and let you go. One of you shall marry me! I don't care two
straws which of you it is. But if you three're to get aboard your ship
afore she sails, one of you's got to come with me to the parson this
night an' be spliced. Take it or leave it; them's my terms. For the good
o' my business I must 'ave a 'usband, now my old dad's gone aloft.
Whether he's on the spot or not I don't care not the value of a reefer's
button, so long as I can show my 'lines.' I'll give you 'alf an hour to
make up your minds an' settle atween you who's goin' to be the lucky
one."
And with that she left the room, again carefully locking the door and
taking away the key.
Truly were they now between the devil and the deep sea. And no amount of
discussion improved the prospect.
"We _can't_ do it, you know," piteously cried one. "I'll see her shot
first."
"Blest if I see any other way out of it," said another.
"And she's pretty old. She _might_ perhaps die before we came back,
mightn't she?" hopefully ventured the third.
"Oh, stow that! She's not more than forty, and she's likely to live as
long as any of us."
"Well, if you won't allow that _she's_ likely to oblige us by leaving
this world, at anyrate you'll admit that there's always a goodish chance
that the husband-elect may run up against a French cannonball and get
out of the scrape _that_ way.
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