Frank Mildmay; Or, The Naval OfficerMarryat, Frederick
History
Frank Mildmay; Or, The Naval Officer
Marryat, Frederick
Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 19th century -- Fiction; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Officers -- Fiction; Sea stories
The fellow looked at me, and then at the supposed corpses, which
he must have thought I had murdered; and, either thunderstruck, or
doubting whether he had any right to obey me, kept his head inside the
door and his body outside, as if he had been in the pillory. I saw
that he required some explanation, and cried out, "I am Mr Frank; will
you obey me, or shall I throw this jar at your head?" brandishing one
of the china vases.
Had I been inclined to have thrown it, I should have missed him, for
the fellow was off like a wounded porpoise. Down he ran to my father
in the library; "Oh, Sir--good news--bad news--good news--"
"What news, fool?" said my father, rising hastily from his chair.
"Oh, Sir, I don't know, Sir; but I believe, Sir, Mr Frank is alive
again, and both the ladies _is_ dead."
My poor father, whose health and constitution had not recovered the
shock of my supposed death, tremblingly leaned over his table, on
which he rested his two hands, and desired the man to repeat what he
had said. This the fellow did, half crying, and my father, easily
comprehending the state of things, came upstairs. I would have flown
into his arms, but mine were occupied in supporting my sweet Emily,
while my poor sister lay senseless on the other side of me; for
Clara's lover was not at hand, and she still lay in abeyance.
By this time "the hands were turned up," every body was on the alert,
and every living creature in the house, not excepting the dog, had
assembled in the drawing-room. The maids that had known me cried
and sobbed most piteously, and the new comer kept them company from
sympathy. The coachman, and footman, and groom, all blubbered and
stared; and one brought water, and one a basin, and the looby of a
footman something else, which I must not name; but in his hurry he
had snatched up the first utensil that he thought might be of use; I
approved of his zeal, but nodded to him to retire. Unluckily for him,
the housemaid perceived the mistake which his absence of thought had
led him into; and, snatching the mysterious vessel with her left hand,
she hid it under her apron, while with her right she gave the poor
fellow such a slap on the cheek, as to bring to my mind the tail of
the whale descending on the boat at Bermuda. "You great fool," said
she, "nobody wants that."
"There is matrimony in that slap," said I; and the event proved I was
right--they were _asked_ in church the Sunday following.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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