Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 12, No. 33, December, 1873Various
Science
Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 12, No. 33, December, 1873
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- Periodicals
When he had quite gone, Lavender, who had scarcely raised his eyes
from his work, suddenly put down his palette and brushes--he almost
dropped them, indeed--and quickly put up both his hands to his head,
pressing them on the side of his temples. The old fisherman in the
boat beyond noticed this strange movement, and forthwith caught
a rope, hauled the boat across a stretch of water, and then came
scrambling over bowsprit, lowered sails and nets to where Lavender had
just sat down.
"Wass there anything the matter, sir?" he said with much evidence of
concern.
"My head is a little bad, Donald," Lavender said, still pressing his
hands on his temples, as if to get rid of some strange feeling. "I
wish you would pull in to the shore and get me some whisky."
"Oh ay," said the old man, hastily scrambling into the little black
boat lying beside the smack; "and it is no wonder to me this will come
to you, sir, for I hef never seen any of the gentlemen so long at the
pentin as you--from the morning till the night; and it is no wonder
to me this will come to you. But I will get you the whushky: it is a
grand thing, the whushky."
The old fisherman was not long in getting ashore and running up to the
cottage in which Lavender lived, and getting a bottle of whisky and a
glass. Then he got down to the boat again, and was surprised that he
could nowhere see Mr. Lavender on board the smack. Perhaps he had lain
down on the nets in the bottom of the boat.
When Donald got out to the smack he found the young man lying
insensible, his face white and his teeth clenched. With something of a
cry the old fisherman jumped into the boat, knelt down, and proceeded
in a rough and ready fashion to force some whisky into Lavender's
mouth. "Oh ay, oh yes, it is a grand thing, the whushky," he muttered
to himself. "Oh yes, sir, you must hef some more: it is no matter
if you will choke. It is ferry good whushky, and will do you no harm
whatever; and oh yes, sir, that is ferry well, and you are all right
again, and you will sit quite quiet now, and you will hef a little
more whushky."
The young man looked round him: "Have you been ashore, Donald? Oh
yes--I suppose so. Did I tumble? Well, I am all right now: it was
the glare of the sea that made me giddy. Take a dram for yourself,
Donald."
"There is but the one glass, sir," said Donald, who had picked up
something of the notions of gentlefolks, "but I will just tek the
bottle;" and so, to avoid drinking out of the same glass (which was
rather a small one), he was good enough to take a pull, and a strong
pull, at the black bottle. Then he heaved a sigh, and wiped the top of
the bottle with his sleeve. "Yes, as I was saying, sir, there was none
of the gentlemen I hef effer seen in Tarbert will keep at the pentin
so long ass you; and many of them will be stronger ass you, and will
be more accustomed to it whatever. But when a man iss making money--"
and Donald shook his head: he knew it was useless to argue.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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