Monmouth, James Scott, Duke of, 1649-1685 -- Fiction
back at it all long after, I think that the hardest thing to bear was
Aurelia's share in the work. I had not thought that Aurelia would join
in tricking me in that way. But while I thought bitterly of her deceit,
I thought of her tears on the balcony in the Dutch city. After all, she
had been driven into it by that big bully of a man. I forgave her when I
thought of him; he was the cause of it all. A brute he must have been to
force her into such an action. Presently the mate came down with orders
to me to leave the ship at once. I asked him for my own clothes; but he
told me sharply to be thankful for what I had, since I'd done no work
to earn them; by work he meant the brainless manual work done by people
like himself. So going on deck I called a boatman, who for twopence put
me ashore on the Kingswear side of the river. He gave me full directions
for finding Mr. Blick's house, telling me that in another five minutes I
should come to it, if I followed my nose. As I started from the
landing place I looked back at the barquentine, where I had had so
many adventures. She was lying at anchor at a little distance from the
Dartmouth landing place, making a fair show, under her flag, in spite of
her jury foretopmast. As I looked, the boatman jogged my elbow, pointing
across the river to the strip of road which edges the stream. “A young
lady waving to you,” he said. Sure enough a lady was waving to me. I
supposed that it was Aurelia, asking pardon, trying to show me that we
parted friends. I would not wave at first; I was surly; but after
about a minute I waved my hat to her. Then I set off up the road to Mr.
Blick's. Ten minutes later, I was in Mr. Blick's house, telling him all
that I have now told you.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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