A Middy of the King: A Romance of the Old British NavyCollingwood, Harry
General
A Middy of the King: A Romance of the Old British Navy
Collingwood, Harry
Great Britain -- Fiction; Pirates -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
But it was imperative that I should visit the felucca, by hook or by
crook; and since I had already discovered that it could not be managed
during the day, there was nothing for it but to make the attempt at
night. Now, I was in Pacheco's charge, he was responsible for me, and
although I was nominally free to come and go as I would, it was not long
before I discovered that it was practically impossible for me to get out
of his sight for more than five or ten minutes at a time, except at
night time, when I was granted the privilege of a small room to myself
in his house. Even then, for the first week of my sojourn, I could
scarcely stir in my bed but at the creaking of it he would be at my
door, inquiring why I was moving, and whether I required anything, the
questioning being, I fancied, simply for the purpose of assuring himself
that I was still in the room. But as the days--or rather the nights--
went on his vigilance gradually relaxed, for I so shaped my speech as to
convey the impression that, at least in my own mind, I had practically
decided to join the band. It was this, perhaps, that so far threw him
off his guard as to betray him, on a certain night, into the indulgence
of his favourite vice, which was a too-marked devotion to the rum
bottle. For several nights in succession--ever since I had been placed
in his charge, in fact--he had been perforce compelled to remain
perfectly sober in order that he might keep a strict watch upon me, but
at length when, while we were sitting at table together, taking supper,
I allowed him to believe that I had finally decided to go to Fernandez
the next morning and take the oath, he ventured to celebrate my
conversion by drinking my health in a stiff nor'wester of rum and
water--rather more rum than water. That act of weakness was his
undoing, for at the first taste of the spirit after his forced
abstention he completely lost all control of himself, and could no more
refrain from taking a second tumbler than he could have flown. The
second naturally led to a third, and the third to a fourth; whereupon,
recognising that my chance was at hand, I yawned twice or thrice most
portentously, complained of fatigue, and retired to my room, he
following as far as the door and locking me in, as was his custom before
going to his own room. But that troubled me not a whit, for the house
was of one story only, and to slip out of it by way of the open window
was almost as easy as walking out through the door, once my gaoler
became so deeply wrapped in sleep that my stealthy movements would not
awake him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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