Devereux — Volume 01Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
History
Devereux — Volume 01
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Great Britain -- History -- Anne, 1702-1714 -- Fiction
Full of this idea, I drew my cloak round me, and repaired on foot to the
neighbourhood of the Spaniard's cottage. There was no place near it
very commodious for accommodation both of vigil and concealment.
However, I made a little hill, in a field opposite the house, my
warder's station, and, lying at full length on the ground, wrapt in my
cloak, I trusted to escape notice. The day passed: no visitor appeared.
The next morning I went from my own rooms, through the subterranean
passage into the castle cave, as the excavation I have before described
was generally termed. On the shore I saw Gerald by one of the small
fishing-boats usually kept there. I passed him with a sneer at his
amusements, which were always those of conflicts against fish or fowl.
He answered me in the same strain, as he threw his nets into the boat,
and pushed out to sea. "How is it that you go alone?" said I; "is there
so much glory in the capture of mackerel and dogfish that you will allow
no one to share it?"
"There are other sports besides those for men," answered Gerald,
colouring indignantly: "my taste is confined to amusements in which he
is but a fool who seeks companionship; and if you could read character
better, my wise brother, you would know that the bold rover is ever less
idle and more fortunate than the speculative dreamer."
As Gerald said this, which he did with a significant emphasis, he rowed
vigorously across the water, and the little boat was soon half way to
the opposite islet. My eyes followed it musingly as it glided over the
waves, and my thoughts painfully revolved the words which Gerald had
uttered. "What can he mean?" said I, half aloud; "yet what matters it?
Perhaps some low amour, some village conquest, inspires him with that
becoming fulness of pride and vain-glory; joy be with so bold a rover!"
and I strode away along the beach towards my place of watch; once only I
turned to look at Gerald; he had then just touched the islet, which was
celebrated as much for the fishing it afforded as the smuggling it
protected.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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