Heart of Oak: A Three-Stranded Yarn, vol. 3Russell, William Clark
General
Heart of Oak: A Three-Stranded Yarn, vol. 3
Russell, William Clark
English fiction -- 19th century; Sea stories
We had both of us a thousand things to ask and answer, and often we'd
break off to gaze at each other, scarce realising even yet that we
were together, and that the end of my heaven-directed quest was come.
By the time we had settled down into sober talk, sitting hand in hand
in front of the glowing brass stove, whilst the boy in obedience to my
orders was preparing the table for dinner, it was about five o'clock;
they had got way upon the brig; she was heeling over, and I guessed
that Cliffe was pressing her, getting every inch of northing that was
to be clawed out of the bow surge whilst it was daylight. The afternoon
was glowing with more than tropic splendour; indeed, never had I
observed such mellow richness of glory under the line, or north or
south of 23° as I had noticed in this Antarctic sunshine whilst in the
bay. But however delivered--whispered at times--sometimes interrupted
by tears, by sudden impassioned embraces, as though nothing even now
could be true but the presence and reality of the long months of her
imprisonment; but however brokenly uttered, I say her story was known,
and her relation persuaded me that in the person of Mr. Selby lived
one of the finest characters that ever graced the manliest of all the
callings. My love, my joy--though my spirits seemed to know no other
passions whilst I held her and looked at her--did not extinguish in me
for long whilst we conversed the cold dark dread that lurked in the
thought of her having been locked up with Selby for months. But whilst
I listened the jealous fear, the gloomy dislike for the extraordinary
association vanished. My heart grew hot with admiration and gratitude.
She told me of her joy at the sight of him, when, after being alone
for a week in the dismasted hull of the 'Lady Emma' with no other
companion on board than the dead body of Mrs. Burke, she groped her way
from her berth to the cabin and found him lying asleep on a locker. She
told me how he had comforted her and raised her spirits by every hope
that a sailor could invent. She instanced many fine subtle, delicate
traits of conduct; I was impressed by the refinement and native
exquisite breeding of the man whilst I listened to her. I witnessed
the gentleman, the nobleman of nature's own handiwork, in all she told
me of him. Without his inspiring companionship her spirits would have
sunk, her heart must have broken. He fetched and carried, cooked, and
toiled for her comfort; he devised a dozen schemes to divert her. Every
day he promised that a ship would come to take them off. He never lost
heart. Often he would sing with a sailor's notion of brightening her
melancholy.
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.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account