Margaret Tudor: A Romance of Old St. Augustine — John Shaqi
Margaret Tudor: A Romance of Old St. AugustineColcock, Annie T. (Annie Toomer)
General
Margaret Tudor: A Romance of Old St. Augustine
Colcock, Annie T. (Annie Toomer)
Historical fiction; Saint Augustine (Fla.) -- Fiction
Much trading was done aboard the sloop, and the barbarians appeared
strangely content with strings of paltry beads and the cast-off garments
of the crew, giving in their stead good provender, and skins of the wild
deer dressed soft and fine.
The second day of our stay, Mr. Rivers, with the ship's master and three
seamen, went ashore with such stuff as the Indians desire, to trade for
pork and other provisions; and it being a Monday morn, Dame Barbara did
crave leave to take her washing and go with them, in the hope of finding
a softer water to cleanse the linen.
It was early morning; the breeze from the land blew sweet and fragrant,
and the woods beyond the sandy beach bourgeoned in new leafage, green
and tender. I longed for the scent of the warm earth, and the tuneful
courting of bird-lovers in the thicket; so I prayed my uncle to let me
go ashore with the dame. He acceded willingly enough; but Mr. Rivers,
who is always over-anxious where my safety is concerned, counselled me
earnestly not to leave the ship.
I was ever a headstrong maid, and the sunshine and the scent of far-off
flowers had set me nearly wild with longing; so I chid him roundly for
his caution and merrily warned him to beware how he sought to clip the
wings of a free bird. Go I did, therefore, though he smiled and shook
his head at me; and when we all parted company at the watering-place he
seemed uneasy still, and, looking backward over his shoulder as I waved
farewell, entreated me to wander no farther from the shore.
The little spring where they had left us welled up, cold and clear, at
the foot of a tall cypress-tree, and trickled thence in a tiny stream, a
mere thread of crystal, that tangled itself in the low bush and wound
its way helplessly through the level wooded country, as though seeking
for some gentle slope that would lead it to the sea.
The dame rinsed her linen till it fairly shone, and spread it out to dry
in a sunny nook; while I lay prone on the warm earth and stirred up the
damp brown leaves that had drifted into a tiny hollow, and found beneath
them a wee green vine with little white star-flowers that blinked up at
the sun and me. And I dreamed of the new home we would make for
ourselves in this far country, and of the very good and docile wife I
would be to my dear love. Then at last,--because I grew aweary at the
prospect of my very great obedience in the future, and because, too, I
thought it was high time my gallant gentleman came back to ask me how I
did,--up from the ground I started, rousing the dame from a sweet nap.
"Look, Barbara! the linen is dry; the sun is on its westering way, and
the shadows grow longer and longer.--'Tis very strange that Mr. Rivers
and the master have not returned!"
"Mayhap they have clean forgot us and gone back to the ship alone,"
moaned the old woman, rubbing her sleepy eyes and beginning at once to
croak misfortune, after the manner of her class.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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