James Braithwaite, the Supercargo: The Story of his Adventures Ashore and AfloatKingston, William Henry Giles
History
James Braithwaite, the Supercargo: The Story of his Adventures Ashore and Afloat
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 19th century -- Fiction
My host, in spite of his annoyance, did not forget the duties of
hospitality, and warmly pressed our unwelcome visitor to take some
refreshment. The young officer, however, declined, on the plea that the
day was already far spent, and that he had no time to spare. On going
round to the front of the house, I found two led horses under the charge
of a soldier. They were absurdly small for cavalry, and would have been
quickly ridden over by any one of our heavy regiments.
I was about to bid Mynheer Van Deck farewell.
"No, not yet, my friend," he answered. "I purpose accompanying you to
Cheribon, that I may render you any service in my power. I have a
horse, and will follow immediately."
The officer made a sign of impatience, so I mounted one of the steeds,
and Jack sprang on the back of the other, where he sat very much as a
big monkey would have done, fully resolved, it seemed, to enjoy any fun
which might be forthcoming. As the French soldiers treated him kindly,
and spoke in a good-natured tone to him, though he could not understand
what they said, his fears quickly vanished, and he was speedily "hail
fellow well met" with them all.
The officer I found a very gentlemanly young man. He rode up alongside
me after we had proceeded a little way, and seemed eager enough to talk
about La Belle France and Paris; but when I endeavoured to draw any
information from him respecting the proceedings at the west end of the
island, he closed his mouth, or gave only vague answers. From this I
argued that affairs had not gone with the French in quite as
satisfactory a manner as they wished. I asked him at last whether he
thought that I should be detained or be otherwise inconvenienced by the
commandant at Cheribon.
"We shoot spies," he answered laconically, at the same time shrugging
his shoulders as a Frenchman only can do. "C'est la fortune de la
guerre."
"But, my dear sir, I am no spy," I answered. "The governor, or native
chief, purposed to seize my vessel, and I was left on shore while she
made her escape. I am but a supercargo anxious to sell the goods
entrusted to me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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