At Sunwich Port [complete]Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
General
At Sunwich Port [complete]
Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
Betrothal -- Fiction; Family -- England -- Fiction; Fathers and sons -- Fiction; Ship captains -- Fiction
Hardy thanked him, and, following him in, took a chair behind the
door, and with an air of youthful deference bent his ear to catch
the pearls which fell from the lips of his host. Since he was a babe
on his mother’s knee sixty years before Mr. Wilks had never had such
an attentive and admiring listener. Hardy sat as though glued to his
chair, one eye on Mr. Wilks and the other on the clock, and it was
not until that ancient timepiece struck the hour that the ex-steward
suddenly realized the awkward state of affairs.
“Any more ’elp I can give you I shall always be pleased to,” he said,
looking at the clock.
Hardy thanked him at great length, wondering, as he spoke, whether Miss
Nugent was of punctual habits. He leaned back in his chair and, folding
his arms, gazed thoughtfully at the perturbed Mr. Wilks.
“You must come round and smoke a pipe with me sometimes,” he said,
casually.
Mr. Wilks flushed with gratified pride. He had a vision of himself
walking up to the front door of the Hardys, smoking a pipe in a
well-appointed room, and telling an incredulous and envious Fullalove
Alley about it afterwards.
“I shall be very pleased, sir,” he said, impressively.
“Come round on Tuesday,” said his visitor. “I shall be at home then.”
Mr. Wilks thanked him and, spurred on to hospitality, murmured
something about a glass of ale, and retired to the back to draw it. He
came back with a jug and a couple of glasses, and draining his own at
a draught, hoped that the example would not be lost upon his visitor.
That astute person, however, after a modest draught, sat still,
anchored to the half-empty glass.
“I’m expecting somebody tonight,” said the ex-steward, at last.
“No doubt you have a lot of visitors,” said the other, admiringly.
Mr. Wilks did not deny it. He eyed his guest’s glass and fidgeted.
“Miss Nugent is coming,” he said.
Instead of any signs of disorder and preparations for rapid flight, Mr.
Wilks saw that the other was quite composed. He began to entertain a
poor idea of Mr. Hardy’s memory.
“She generally comes for a little quiet chat,” he said.
“Indeed!”
“Just between the two of us,” said the other.
His visitor said “Indeed,” and, as though some chord of memory had been
touched, sat gazing dreamily at Mr. Wilks’s horticultural collection in
the window. Then he changed colour a little as a smart hat and a pretty
face crossed the tiny panes. Mr. Wilks changed colour too, and in an
awkward fashion rose to receive Miss Nugent.
“Late as usual, Sam,” said the girl, sinking into a chair. Then she
caught sight of Hardy, who was standing by the door.
[Illustration: “She caught sight of Hardy.”]
“It’s a long time since you and I met, Miss Nugent,” he said, bowing.
“Mr. Hardy?” said the girl, doubtfully.
“Yes, miss,” interposed Mr. Wilks, anxious to explain his position. “He
called in to see me; quite a surprise to me it was. I ’ardly knowed
him.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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