Greensea Island: A Mystery of the Essex CoastBridges, Victor
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Greensea Island: A Mystery of the Essex Coast
Bridges, Victor
Adventure stories; Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
"Two pound," he repeated, "or we take you over there and leave you."
He waved his hand in the direction of the desolate sandbanks which
stretched along the farther side of Leixoes harbour. "You not get
boat then," he added, grinning maliciously; "you stop there and lose
sheep."
It has always been an axiom of mine that when you have got to have a
row the quicker and more vigorously you start work the better. The
man's face was only a few feet away from me, and, without a second's
hesitation, I made a swift lunge forward, and struck out with all the
force that I was capable of. He saw what was coming and grabbed for
his weapon, but just as he drew it from its sheath the blow crashed
home on the point of his chin, and sent him reeling over backwards
into the arms of his companion. Slipping from his hand, the knife
tinkled down on to the floorboard of the boat, and the next instant I
had snatched it up and was standing over the confused heap of arms
and legs which represented the vanquished enemy.
"Now," I said, "are you going on, or am I going to chuck you both
into the harbour?"
For a moment there was no answer; then, with an effort, the gentleman
in the bow slithered out from under his companion and sat up,
blinking and gasping. He was evidently a poor-spirited ruffian
compared with the other, for his face had gone the colour of putty,
and he eyed me with absolute terror.
"You had better make up your mind quickly," I added.
He nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, yes," he exclaimed; "we take
you to sheep"; and, without waiting for any further developments, he
seized hold of his discarded oar and plunged it furiously into the
water.
"Well, you won't do it by rowing round in a circle," I observed. "We
must try what first aid for the injured will do."
I picked up a rusty tin from under one of the seats, and, filling it
with water, poured the contents over the head of the sleeping beauty,
who still lay in a huddled mass between the two seats. For such a
simple remedy it worked with surprising efficiency. There was a
grunt, followed by a convulsive start, and then, shaking himself like
a drenched Newfoundland dog, the patient slowly arose from his
recumbent attitude.
I scowled at him ferociously. "Oh, you've waked up, have you?" I
said. "Catch hold of your oar, and don't let me hear another word
from you before we reach the ship."
If looks could kill I should have dropped dead in the boat, but,
nature having fortunately arranged otherwise, no such unpleasant
tragedy occurred. Without a word he proceeded to carry out my
instructions, and the next moment we were moving on towards the
_Neptune_ at a considerably brisker pace than we had hitherto
achieved.
Going back to my place in the stern, I reseated myself beside Miss de
Roda.
"You have made me change my opinion," she said, in a delightfully
tranquil voice. "In future I shall attach more importance to first
impressions."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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