Fortune's My Foe: A RomanceBloundelle-Burton, John
General
Fortune's My Foe: A Romance
Bloundelle-Burton, John
English fiction -- 19th century
"He can get these," Geoffrey replied, with a laugh, "if I take
them. I, or any other of his officers. Because, you see, these are
hocus-pocussed men; fellows who have been made, or found, drunk by the
crimps, and sold on board to the master. He has paid for them, and
'tis illegal. Wherefore the King--represented in my person--will set
'em free to serve him. God bless him! His service is better than that
in the plantations."
"Is it honest to do this, Geoff?" Ariadne asked, a look of doubt on
her young face.
"Honest, my dear! Why, child, there is no spot of honesty in't at all.
Honest, i'faith! Is it honest to buy men's bodies as one buys dogs and
cattle? honest to drench and drug men with gin, and then fling them
aboard as one would fling a side of beef aboard? Nay, 'tis honest to
rescue such, to give them a chance of serving King and country; to
have a mort of food and rum into them two and three times a day, as
much 'baccy as they can smoke, and many a guinea to spend on Sal and
Sukie when they get ashore. _That's_ honest, my dear, and what the
sky-pilots call 'Christian.'"
"If they ever do get ashore to see Sal and Sukie; if the French do not
kill them," said Ariadne.
"Well! come what may, _I_ must get ashore," said Geoffrey, as now he
saw his gig tossing on the turbulent waves of the windswept river;
"so fare ye well, sweetheart, until to-night. You have that
new-fangled novel thing to read, and Anne and her mother are with you,
wherefore you will not be dull till bedtime."
Then, changing his blustering, good-natured tone for one more serious
as he stooped and kissed her; while noticing again, as he held her in
his arms, as he had often noticed before, how slight and delicate a
thing his child-wife was, he whispered:
"Oh! my love, my love, how I do worship thee. Sweetheart, will the
hours be long till I come back?"
"As ever and always they are," she whispered too, her arms around his
neck and her cheek against his. "As ever and always they are."
"You do not regard me as only a rude, rough sailor," he asked now;
"one ruthless in his duty? Nor cruel?"
"Nay, nay, never; but as the man of my heart--my only love, my
husband."
"So! that is well. Again, farewell till to-night. Farewell, dear one,"
and, reaching the deck, he grasped the manropes when, entering his
gig, he was rowed ashore.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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