Life's Little Ironies: A set of tales with some colloquial sketches entitled A Few Crusted CharactersHardy, Thomas
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Life's Little Ironies: A set of tales with some colloquial sketches entitled A Few Crusted Characters
Hardy, Thomas
Short stories, English; Wessex (England) -- Fiction
She looked again at the great house through the screen of bottled
pickles.
‘Rub on—yes,’ she said bitterly. ‘But see how well off Emmy Lester is,
who used to be so poor! Her boys will go to College, no doubt; and
think of yours—obliged to go to the Parish School!’
Shadrach’s thoughts had flown to Emily.
‘Nobody,’ he said good-humouredly, ‘ever did Emily a better turn than
you did, Joanna, when you warned her off me and put an end to that
little simpering nonsense between us, so as to leave it in her power to
say “Aye” to Lester when he came along.’ This almost maddened her.
‘Don’t speak of bygones!’ she implored, in stern sadness. ‘But think,
for the boys’ and my sake, if not for your own, what are we to do to
get richer?’
‘Well,’ he said, becoming serious, ‘to tell the truth, I have always
felt myself unfit for this business, though I’ve never liked to say so.
I seem to want more room for sprawling; a more open space to strike out
in than here among friends and neighbours. I could get rich as well as
any man, if I tried my own way.’
‘I wish you would! What is your way?’
‘To go to sea again.’
She had been the very one to keep him at home, hating the semi-widowed
existence of sailors’ wives. But her ambition checked her instincts
now, and she said: ‘Do you think success really lies that way?’
‘I am sure it lies in no other.’
‘Do you want to go, Shadrach?’
‘Not for the pleasure of it, I can tell ’ee. There’s no such pleasure
at sea, Joanna, as I can find in my back parlour here. To speak honest,
I have no love for the brine. I never had much. But if it comes to a
question of a fortune for you and the lads, it is another thing. That’s
the only way to it for one born and bred a seafarer as I.’
‘Would it take long to earn?’
‘Well, that depends; perhaps not.’
The next morning Shadrach pulled from a chest of drawers the nautical
jacket he had worn during the first months of his return, brushed out
the moths, donned it, and walked down to the quay. The port still did a
fair business in the Newfoundland trade, though not so much as
formerly.
It was not long after this that he invested all he possessed in
purchasing a part-ownership in a brig, of which he was appointed
captain. A few months were passed in coast-trading, during which
interval Shadrach wore off the land-rust that had accumulated upon him
in his grocery phase; and in the spring the brig sailed for
Newfoundland.
Joanna lived on at home with her sons, who were now growing up into
strong lads, and occupying themselves in various ways about the harbour
and quay.
‘Never mind, let them work a little,’ their fond mother said to
herself. ‘Our necessities compel it now, but when Shadrach comes home
they will be only seventeen and eighteen, and they shall be removed
from the port, and their education thoroughly taken in hand by a tutor;
and with the money they’ll have they will perhaps be as near to
gentlemen as Emmy Lester’s precious two, with their algebra and their
Latin!’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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