Greensea Island: A Mystery of the Essex CoastBridges, Victor
General
Greensea Island: A Mystery of the Essex Coast
Bridges, Victor
Adventure stories; Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
Personally, I had made no effort to follow in their steps. I will
confess straight away that this was not due to any indifference on my
part, for she occupied my thoughts in a curiously persistent and
disturbing fashion. My duties, however, left me little time for
talking to the passengers, and, apart from that, I had no wish to try
and force my acquaintance upon a girl who so obviously desired to be
left alone. At times I could not help wondering whether her attitude
in the matter was not dictated rather by loyalty to her uncle's
wishes than by any natural inclination for solitude; but still, that
made no difference to the facts of the case, which were sufficiently
obvious for any but the most thick-skinned individual.
So far as I was concerned, this slight touch of mystery only added to
her attractiveness. In spite of our never having spoken to each
other, I found that with each day of the voyage my interest in her
increased rather than lessened, a circumstance which I had been at
some particular pains to keep entirely to myself. As a rule I have
not the least objection to being chaffed, but for once in a way I
rather shrank from the raillery which Ross would certainly have
indulged in if he had had the remotest inkling of my real feelings.
In the middle of these meditations of mine we came alongside the
jetty, from which two or three nondescript longshoremen had been
eyeing our arrival with apathetic interest. For its size, Leixoes
seems to contain a remarkable number of leisured citizens, whose only
source of income appears to be the scanty earnings of their
hard-working wives.
My two companions were anxious to have a look round the village
before proceeding farther, so, leaving them to their own devices, I
walked up the beach and boarded an electric tram which was just about
to start for Oporto. Half an hour's run along the sandy road brought
me to that straggling city, which, with its mediæval charm and
shoddy, unfinished modern "improvements," gives one an illuminating
picture of Portuguese history.
I descended in the old quarter on the quay, where the tall,
tumble-down houses, with their quaint open fronts, still stare out
picturesquely over the broad waters of the Douro. A glass of
excellent iced beer in a neighbouring café washed away most of the
dust which had collected in my throat, and then, feeling remarkably
at peace with the world, I strolled off up the hill in the blazing
glare of an almost tropical sunshine.
For perhaps an hour I wandered leisurely about the town, buying one
or two things which I wanted--including Ross's pipe--and thoroughly
enjoying the sensation of being once more on solid ground. Then,
having nothing better to do, I turned my steps to the English Club,
where, through the kindness of the members--a very genial and
hospitable crowd--any officer of the Planet Line was always a welcome
guest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account