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 sit, both of you,' cried Captain Nielsen; 'pray rest. Helga, have
you seen to the gentleman's comfort? Has he had any refreshment?'
She answered him, and seated herself upon a little locker, inviting me
with a look to sit beside her, for there was no other accommodation in
that cabin than the locker.
'I wish I could persuade your daughter to take some rest,' said I. 'Her
clothes, too, are soaked through!'
'It is salt water,' said Captain Nielsen; 'it will not harm her. She is
very used to salt water, sir;' and then he addressed his daughter in
Danish. The resemblance of some words he used to our English made me
suppose he spoke about her resting.
'The pumps must be worked,' said she, looking at me; 'we must keep the
barque afloat first of all, Mr. Tregarthen. How trifling is want of
sleep, how insignificant the discomfort of damp clothes, at such a time
as this!'
She opened her jacket and drew a silver watch from her pocket, and then
took a bottle of medicine and a wineglass from a small circular tray
swinging by thin chains near the cot, and gave her father a dose. He
began now to question us, occasionally in his hurry and eagerness
speaking in the Danish language. He asked about the masts--if they were
sound, if any sails had been split, if the _Anine_ had met with any
injury apart from the loss of her two boats, of which he had evidently
been informed by his daughter. A flush of temper came into his white
cheeks when he talked of his men. He called the carpenter Damm a
villain, said that had he had his way the barque never would have
brought up in that bay, that Damm had carried her there, as he now
believed, as much out of spite as out of recklessness, hoping no doubt
that the _Anine_ would go ashore, but of course taking it for granted
that the crew would be rescued. He shook his fist as he pronounced the
carpenter's name, and then groaned aloud with anguish to some movement
of his limbs brought about by his agitation. He lay quiet a little and
grew calm, and talked, with his thin fingers on his breast. He informed
me that the _Anine_ was his ship, that he had spent some hundreds of
pounds in equipping her for this voyage, that he had some risk in the
cargo, and that, in a word, all that he was worth in the wide world was
in this fabric, now heavily and often madly labouring, unwatched, amid
the blackness of the night of hurricane.
'Your daughter and I must endeavour to preserve her for you,' said I.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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