occurred to the Captain. Suppose he made a call on Mr. Carker, and tried to find out from him how the land really lay!
Captain Cuttle liked this idea very much. It came upon him in a moment of inspiration, as he was smoking an early pipe in Brig Place after breakfast; and it was worthy of the tobacco. It would quiet his conscience, which was an honest one, and was made a little uneasy by what Walter had confided to him, and what Sol Gills had said; and it would be a deep, shrewd act of friendship. He would sound Mr. Carker carefully, and say much or little, just as he read that gentleman’s character, and discovered that they got on well together or the reverse.
Accordingly, without the fear of Walter before his eyes (who he knew was at home packing), Captain Cuttle again assumed his ankle-jacks and mourning brooch, and issued forth on this second expedition. He purchased no propitiatory nosegay on the present occasion, as he was going to a place of business; but he put a small sunflower in his button-hole to give himself an agreeable relish of the country; and with this, and the knobby stick, and the glazed hat, bore down upon the offices of Dombey and Son.
After taking a glass of warm rum-and-water at a tavern close by, to collect his thoughts, the Captain made a rush down the court, lest its good effects should evaporate, and appeared suddenly to Mr. Perch.
"Matey," said the Captain, in persuasive accents. "One of your Governors is named Carker."
Mr. Perch admitted it; but gave him to understand, as in official duty bound, that all his Governors were engaged, and never expected to be disengaged any more.
"Look ’ee here, mate," said the Captain in his ear; "my name’s Cap’en Cuttle."
The Captain would have hooked Perch gently to him, but Mr. Perch eluded the attempt; not so much in design, as in starting at the sudden thought that such a weapon unexpectedly exhibited to Mrs. Perch might, in her then condition, be destructive to that lady’s hopes.
"If you ’ll be so good as just report Cap’en Cuttle here, when you get a chance,’ said the Captain, "I ’ll wait."
Saying which, the Captain took his seat on Mr. Perch’s bracket, and drawing out his handkerchief from the crown of the glazed hat which he jammed between his knees (without injury to its shape, for nothing human could bend it), rubbed his head well all over, and appeared refreshed. He subsequently arranged his hair with his hook, and sat looking round the office, contemplating the clerks with a serene respect.
The Captain’s equanimity was so impenetrable, and he was altogether so mysterious a being, that Perch the messenger was daunted.
"What name was it you said?" asked Mr. Perch, bending down over him as he sat on the bracket.
"Cap’en," in a deep hoarse whisper.
"Yes," said Mr. Perch, keeping time with his head.
"Cuttle."
"Oh!" said Mr. Perch, in the same tone, for he caught it, and couldn’t help it; the Captain, in his diplomacy, was so impressive. "I ’ll see if he’s disengaged now. I don’t know. Perhaps he may be for a minute."
