Heart of Oak: A Three-Stranded Yarn, vol. 3Russell, William Clark
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Heart of Oak: A Three-Stranded Yarn, vol. 3
Russell, William Clark
English fiction -- 19th century; Sea stories
He began to stutter, and was full of concern, seeing me suddenly lean
against the rail, breathing hard with oppression with a face which I
might guess by my emotions alarmed him. But guessing that my agitation
would speedily take the eye of the many who were walking or sitting
about the deck, I asked, after pausing a minute to recover myself,
if I could be alone with him for a little while, on which he at once
conducted me to the chart room or some sort of interior dedicated to
him as commander, but not a bedroom, furnished with a horsehair couch,
a clock, and the several instruments and conveniences for navigating a
vessel.
He hooked the door, leaving it a little way open. Without preface I
told him that Miss Marie Otway, only daughter of Sir Mortimer Otway,
was my sweetheart; she had gone a voyage for her health in the 'Lady
Emma'; soon after the news of that ship having been dismasted reached
home, there arrived the extraordinary tale of the body of a woman
having been picked up in the latitude and longitude the hull was in
when abandoned by the crew; the description of the body, I told him,
was that of Miss Otway, and my only motive in making the voyage to the
Cape was to examine the remains, if the exhumation would be permitted.
He listened with deep interest and a countenance of cordial sympathy.
'Now, sir,' said he, 'I can understand your motive in questioning old
Captain Robson.'
'If the body be not Miss Otway I shall want to know what chance she's
had aboard that hull. Robson's an old sailor, and I've drawn a little
hope out of his talk, providing----'
'Well,' said he, gathering my meaning even from my pause, 'I should
say, sir, that a man would know his own child. Old Mr. Hoskins assured
me, whilst telling his story, with the tears standing in his eyes, that
the portrait sent him was the likeness of Mrs. Ollier, his daughter.
That being so, it's reasonable you should ask questions about the
wreck.'
'Would Mr. Hoskins show me those portraits, do you think?'
'Show them? Why, yes, sir. When he hears the story, he'll be glad to be
of use. If you'll stop here, I'll go and manage the matter out of hand
for you.'
I thanked him and he departed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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