England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English; River life -- Fiction; Sea stories, English
For the next three days the captain kept his daughter under
observation, and never allowed her to stir abroad except in his
company. The evening of the third day, to his own great surprise, he
spent at a Dorcas. The company was not congenial, several of the ladies
putting their work away, and glaring frigidly at the intruder; and
though they could see clearly that he was suffering greatly, made no
attempt to put him at his ease. He was very thoughtful all the way
home, and the next day took a partner into the concern, in the shape of
his boatswain.
“You understand, Tucker,” he concluded, as the hapless seaman stood in
a cringing attitude before Chrissie, “that you never let my daughter
out of your sight. When she goes out you go with her.”
“Yessir,” said Tucker; “and suppose she tells me to go home, what am I
to do then?”
“You’re a fool,” said the captain sharply. “It doesn’t matter what she
says or does; unless you are in the same room, you are never to be more
than three yards from her.”
“Make it four, cap’n,” said the boatswain, in a broken voice.
“Three,” said the captain; “and mind, she’s artful. All girls are, and
she’ll try and give you the slip. I’ve had information given me as to
what’s going on. Whatever happens, you are not to leave her.”
“I wish you’d get somebody else, sir,” said Tucker, very respectfully.
“There’s a lot of chaps aboard that’d like the job.”
“You’re the only man I can trust,” said the captain shortly. “When I
give you orders I know they’ll be obeyed; it’s your watch now.”
He went out humming. Chrissie took up a book and sat down, utterly
ignoring the woebegone figure which stood the regulation three yards
from her, twisting its cap in its hands.
“I hope, miss,” said the boatswain, after standing patiently for
three-quarters of an hour, “as ’ow you won’t think I sought arter this
’ere little job.”
“No,” said Chrissie, without looking up.
“I’m just obeying orders,” continued the boatswain. “I always git let
in for these ’ere little jobs, somehow. The monkeys I’ve had to look
arter aboard ship would frighten you. There never was a monkey on the
_Monarch_ but what I was in charge of. That’s what a man gets through
being trustworthy.”
“Just so,” said Chrissie, putting down her book. “Well, I’m going into
the kitchen now; come along, nursie.”
“’Ere, I say, miss!” remonstrated Tucker, flushing.
“I don’t know how Susan will like you going in her kitchen,” said
Chrissie thoughtfully; “however, that’s your business.”
The unfortunate seaman followed his fair charge into the kitchen, and,
leaning against the door-post, doubled up like a limp rag before the
terrible glance of its mistress.
“Ho!” said Susan, who took the state of affairs as an insult to the sex
in general; “and what might you be wanting?”
“Cap’n’s orders,” murmured Tucker feebly.
“I’m captain here,” said Susan, confronting him with her bare arms
akimbo.
“And credit it does you,” said the boatswain, looking round admiringly.
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