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 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," everybody 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 newcomer 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 booby 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 hand, 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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