Fortune's My Foe: A RomanceBloundelle-Burton, John
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Fortune's My Foe: A Romance
Bloundelle-Burton, John
English fiction -- 19th century
Meanwhile, what was passing below in the captain's cabin--which had
been set aside for his wife ever since her hour drew nigh; he sleeping
in a spare one close by? Independently of it being now a chamber in
which a young and beautiful wife had just become a mother, as well as
a room in great disorder, there were other things which, in any
circumstances, must have caused it to present an appearance of extreme
confusion. Naturally, all the pictures had been unshipped, since the
concussion of the guns would otherwise have brought them from the
bulkheads to the floor, or deck, to say nothing of shivering any glass
they might possess. And also all china and glass in the cabin, and the
pretty knick-knacks which Thorne had bestowed about it, were removed
from their usual positions. Whereby the apartment in the _Ariadne_, in
which Mrs. Thorne had but recently presented a child to her husband,
was even more disarranged than it would ordinarily have been,
Likewise, every port and scuttle was opened, so that thus some of the
concussion should be avoided, and the cabin was thereby made less hot
and stuffy than such a place would otherwise have been in this
climate. Yet it was but a poor place in which to bring a fresh body
and soul, into a troublous world--a poor place in which a child should
first open its eyes upon the light.
"Dear, dear!" said Mrs. Tickle, the wife of the master-at-arms, she
thinking thus, as she wiped the perspiration from Mrs. Thorne's face.
"Dear, dear! What a place for the sweet young thing to give birth to a
babe in. Yet," and, as she spoke, she took a sip of rumbullion from a
cannikin close to her hand, and then passed it over to Mrs. Pottle,
the wife of the ship's corporal, "it might have been wuss. My first
was born in Havant Work'us', Tickle being away with Captain Clipperton
at the time."
"Ha!" said Mrs. Pottle, as she in her turn took a sip of the toothsome
liquor. "Indeed, and it might have been wuss. Even now it may be so.
What if one of them forts should plump a round shot into us below the
water-line? Then there won't soon be no Captain Thorne, nor Mistress
Thorne, nor baby either."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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