My Danish Sweetheart: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3Russell, William Clark
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My Danish Sweetheart: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3
Russell, William Clark
Adventure stories; Fiction; Love stories; Sea stories
'Pray let me follow you!' said I. She shook her head. 'Yes!' I cried;
'God knows you should need some such tonic more than I!'
I induced her to drink, and then took the glass and emptied it. A second
dram warmed and heartened me. I was without appetite, but was willing to
eat for the sake of such strength as might come from a meal. The girl
made herself a sandwich of biscuit and meat, and we fell to. And so we
sat facing each other, eating, staring at each other; the pair of us all
the while hearkening with all our ears to the roaring noises outside, to
the straining sounds within the ship, and feeling--I speak of
myself--with every nerve tense as a fiddlestring, the desperate slants
and falls and uprisals of the deck or platform upon which our feet
rested.
CHAPTER V.
DAWN.
There was refreshment, however, to every sense, beyond language to
express, in the shelter which this deck-house provided after our long
term of exposure to the pouring of the raging gale, into which was put
the further weight of volumes of spray, that swept to the face like
leaden hail, and carried the shriek of the shot of musketry as it slung
past the ear. It was calm in this deck-house; the deafening sounds
without came somewhat muffled here; but the furious motion of the vessel
was startlingly illustrated by the play of the hanging lantern, and the
swing of the illuminated globe was made the wilder and more wonderful by
the calm of the atmosphere in which it oscillated.
'I do not think the sea is breaking over the ship,' said the girl,
gazing at me in a posture of listening. 'It is hard to tell. I feel no
tremble as of the falls of water on the deck.'
'She is battling bravely,' said I; 'but what now would I give for even a
couple of those men of yours who jumped into the lifeboat! It is our
being so few--two of us only, and you a woman--that makes our situation
so hard.'
'I have not the strength of a man,' said she with a smile, and fastening
her soft eyes on my face; 'but you will find I have the heart of one.
Will you come now and see my father?'
I at once rose and followed her. She knocked upon a little door where
the bulkhead partitioned off the inner cabin, and then entered, bidding
me follow her.
A cot swung from the upper deck, and in it sat a man almost upright, his
back supported by bolsters and pillows; a bracket lamp burnt steadily
over a table, upon which lay a book or two, a chart, a few nautical
instruments, and the like. There was no convenience for dressing, and I
guessed that this had been a sort of chart-room which the captain had
chosen to occupy that he might be easily and without delay within hail
or reach of the deck.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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