Miss Fairfax of Virginia: A Romance of Love and Adventure Under the PalmettosRathborne, St. George
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Miss Fairfax of Virginia: A Romance of Love and Adventure Under the Palmettos
Rathborne, St. George
Love stories; Virginia -- Fiction
The little De Brabant had ceased uttering confused prayers to the
Virgin for her lover's safety, since he had thus speedily reduced the
blustering hero to a state of "innocuous desuetude"--she was now more
deeply concerned in the manner whereby the said Senor Roderic was to
free himself from the incubus that held on with such a tenacious grip.
"Drop him over the rail, _amigo_--a bath, give the handsome Adonis
a bath--it will surely be good for his complexion. The rail Senor
Roderic--it is close at your hand and _so_ convenient. Besides, better
such a soft fall than broken bones on the lower deck!"
Thus she cried in her excitement, modulating her voice until it was
hardly more than a tense whisper.
And Owen knew it was not so much resentment against Jerome for his
persistent attentions as the eager desire to serve the man she adored,
that actuated her course.
The voices of the gentlemen could be plainly heard as they emerged from
the chart room and sauntered toward the side of the steamer where Beven
had left his yawl--no doubt the visitor was still cracking some of
his old chestnut jokes, for the laughter of Don Porfidio bubbled over
almost continually--besides; that champagne had been very extra dry.
At any rate the suggestion advanced by Georgia coincided with Roderic's
own views on the subject.
Perhaps Jerome, had he been given a voice in the matter, as the party
most interested, might have strenuously objected--baths he liked,
indeed, was very partial to, in their proper season, but to be thus
unceremoniously tumbled from the deck of a steamer into the briny deep,
with his most elaborate evening garments on his person was really too
much of a good thing, and he must have protested earnestly could he but
have found wind with which to clothe his argument.
That luxury was in a great measure denied him, and the best he could do
was to make a feeble kick against the decision of the fair court being
carried into execution.
It counted for nought.
The American having started could hardly be restrained--once the match
is applied to a train of powder it is difficult to prevent the fire
from running its entire length.
So Jerome was dragged ignobly over the deck to the rail, past the
beauty who had ordered his ducking--he endeavored to so wind himself
about the affections and also the limbs of his intended executioner
that the latter would have to change his desperate plans or else take
the plunge in his delectable company; but Roderic knew a trick or two
that might be used with profit under such conditions, and he readily
broke the hold of the desperate and vanquished beau.
Then came the finish.
Wellington took a tumble.
He exhausted what breath he chanced to have in his lungs with one awful
whoop as he went plunging down, arms and legs outspread after the
manner of a gigantic frog.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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