Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 66, No. 410, December 1849Various
History
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 66, No. 410, December 1849
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
What was done, though, required to be done quickly, and I looked
about for Tom Westwood, till I saw him on the poop amongst the rest,
talking again to Miss Hyde, as they all crowded towards the lee-quarter
to watch the land-haze seemingly dropping stern. My heart swelled
as it were into my throat, however, at such an appearance of good
understanding betwixt the two,--whereas there was _she_, an hour ago
that very morning, would scarce favour me with a look or a word!--and,
for the life of me, I couldn't have spoken to Westwood at the time,
much less gone hand in hand; for that matter, he didn't seem to be
suspecting aught wrong to trouble himself about. What to say or do,
either, I couldn't think; since the more he cut me out, and the less
friendly I felt to him, the less could I risk the chance of showing
us both up for what we _were_,--which, of course, would bring him in
for the worst of it; as if _I_, by Jove, were, going to serve him
some low trick for the sake of shoving _him_ out with the young lady.
Meantime I kept fidgeting about, as if the deck were too hot for me,
snatching a glance now and then, in spite of myself, at Violet Hyde's
fairy-like figure; so different from the rest of them, as she stretched
eagerly from below the awning over the ship's quarter-gallery, trying
to make out where the land lay,--now putting her little hand over her
eyes to see better, then covering them altogether from the dazzle,
as she drew in her head again and shook her bright brown hair in the
shadow, answering Westwood--confound him! The Indian servant each time
carefully poking out the red and yellow punkah-fringe for a cover over
her, while the passengers were one and all ready to cry at not seeing
the land, and leaving it behind. The Judge himself was the only man
that seemed to have a dim notion of something queer in the whole case;
for every few minutes he walked quietly to the break of the poop, where
I noticed him cast a doubtful look down upon the "chief officer;" and
when the surgeon came up, he asked anxiously how Captain Williamson
was, and if he couldn't be seen below. However, the surgeon told him
the captain had just fallen for the first time into a good sleep, and
there was no admittance, but he was likely to be much better soon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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