My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3) — John Shaqi
My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3)Russell, William Clark
General
My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3)
Russell, William Clark
Sea stories; Shipwrecks -- Fiction
‘Have you been thinking over the tarms of that letter we were talking
about?’ said he.
‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘I’ll pay your cabin a visit after breakfast and
write it out.’
‘Very well, sir. That and the agreement about the division of the money
too. I shall want to shift my hellum for Rio to-morrow.’
He left us, and we descended in silence, nor did Miss Temple speak a
word to me as we made our way to our gloomy deep-sunk quarters,
excepting to wish me good-night.
I slept well, and rose next morning at seven to get a bath in the head;
for, as in the Indiaman, so in this barque, and so, indeed, in most
ships in those days, there was a little pump fixed in the bows for
washing down the decks of the fore-part of the craft. It was a very gay
brilliant morning, a fresh breeze about a point before the starboard
beam, and the _Lady Blanche_ was moving through it at a meteoric pace
with her royals and gaff topsail in, and all else save the flying jib
abroad. The water was of a rich blue, and rolled in snow; the violet
shadows of swollen steamcoloured clouds swept over the rolling lines of
the ocean, and by their alternations of the sunshine made a very prism
of the vast, throbbing disc of the deep. About two miles astern was a
large schooner, staggering along on a westerly course, so close hauled
that she seemed to look into the very eye of the wind and plunging bow
under with a constant boiling of foam all about her head. By the time I
had taken my bath she was a mere chip of white on the windy blue over
our weather quarter.
There were a few sailors cleaning up about the decks, and as I passed
them on the road to the cabin, I could not fail to observe that they
eyed me with a degree of attention I had never before noticed in them.
Their looks were full of curiosity, with something almost of impudence
in the bold stare of one or two of them. What, I reflected, can this
signify but that the fellow Wilkins overheard everything that passed
between the captain and me, and has carried the news into the
forecastle? So much the better, I thought; for should the captain come
to guess that the men had his secret, the suspicion must harden him in
his insane resolve to carry the barque forthwith to Rio to get rid of
his crew.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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