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
He was a striking-looking man, with coal-black hair, parted on one side,
lying very flat upon his head, and curling down upon his back. He wore a
long goat beard and moustaches, and was somewhat grim with several days'
growth of whisker upon his cheeks; his brows were thickly thatched, his
forehead low, his eyes very dark, small, and penetrating. He was of a
deathlike whiteness, and showed, to my fancy, as a man whose days were
numbered. That his disease was something more than rheumatism there was
no need to look at him twice to make sure of. His daughter addressed him
in the Danish tongue, then, recollecting herself, with a half-glance at
me of apology, she exclaimed:
'Father, this is Mr. Hugh Tregarthen, the noble gentleman who commanded
the lifeboat, who risked his life to save ours, and I pray that God of
His love for brave spirits may restore him in safety to those who are
dear to him.'
Captain Nielsen, with a face contracted into a look of pain by emotion,
extended his hand in silence over the edge of his cot. I grasped it in
silence too. It was ice cold. He gazed for awhile, without speech, into
my eyes, and I thought to see him shed tears; then, putting his hand
upon mine in a caressing gesture, and letting it go--for the swing of
the cot would not permit him to retain that posture of holding my hand
for above a moment or two, he exclaimed in a low but quite audible
voice: 'I ask the good and gracious Lord of heaven and earth to bless
you, for _her_ sake--for my Helga's sake--and in the name of those who
have perished, but whom you would have saved!'
'Captain Nielsen,' said I, greatly moved by his manner and looks, 'would
it had pleased Heaven that I should have been of solid use to you and
your men! I grieve to find you in this helpless state. I hope you do not
suffer?'
'While I rest I am without pain,' he answered, and I now observed that
though his accent had a distinctly Scandinavian harshness, such as was
softened in his daughter's speech by the clearness--I may say, by the
melody--of her tones, his English was as purely pronounced as hers. 'But
if I move,' he continued, 'I am in agony. I cannot stand; my legs are
as idle and as helpless as though paralyzed. But now tell me of the
_Anine_, Helga,' he cried, with a look of pathetic eager yearning
entering his face as he addressed her. 'Have you sounded the well?'
'Yes, father.'
'What water, my child?' She told him. 'Ha!' he exclaimed, with a sudden
fretfulness; 'the pump should be manned without delay; but who is there
to work it?'
'We two will, very shortly,' she exclaimed, turning to me: 'we require a
little breathing time. Mr. Tregarthen and I,' said she, still talking
with her soft appealing eyes upon me, 'have strength, or, at all events,
courage enough to give us strength; and he will help me in whatever we
may think needful to save the _Anine_ and our lives.'
'Indeed, yes!' said I.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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