My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3)Russell, William Clark
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My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3)
Russell, William Clark
Sea stories; Shipwrecks -- Fiction
The ugly significance he imparted to these words by the look that
accompanied them, I could not hope to express. Miss Temple, whose hand
was on my arm, shrank at my side. It pleased me that she should have
witnessed that look and heard the words, for they would go further to
persuade her that the only road to choose in this matter was the one I
had taken, than any amount of reasoning on my part.
‘Your threats are perfectly indifferent to me,’ I exclaimed, eyeing him
coolly and fixedly. ‘I believe I know your character, and don’t question
your capacity to act up again to the part your captain told me you had
already played.’
‘What was that?’ he growled, but with no other change of face than such
as temper might produce. I seemed to find even in this little thing that
the captain had told me a lie when he charged the fellow with murder,
and my mind felt easier on a sudden as to a conviction of the truth of a
matter less dark than I had dared believe.
‘That is my business,’ I responded, preserving my cool almost
contemptuous manner. ‘You need be at no pains to threaten me. You’ll
achieve nothing by your forecastle menaces. I have been a sailor in my
time and quite know what you and such as you are. If you or any of your
mates disappoint me in a single particular of the understanding between
us, I will throw this sextant,’ said I, flourishing it under his nose,
‘overboard, and you may grope your way round the Horn as best you can.
That agreement is this:’ I elevated my forefinger. ‘First we are to have
the exclusive use of this end of the ship; you alone coming aft to stand
your watch.’ He nodded. I erected another finger. ‘Next: the captain’s
cabin and the one adjoining are to be occupied by this lady and myself.’
He nodded again. I raised a third finger, thrusting it close to his
face. ‘Next: Wilkins continues to wait upon us as heretofore; we are to
be fed with care and punctuality; it is distinctly to be understood—and
this _you_ will see to—that no liquor aboard is broached outside a tot
or two per man per day; for,’ said I, speaking with the most emphatic
deliberateness I could contrive, ‘if there should be a single exhibition
of drunkenness amongst the crew, I shall pitch this sextant overboard.’
‘I’ve got nothen to say agin that,’ he exclaimed, speaking with
something of sullen respect, as though impressed by my energy and
language.
‘Next,’ I proceeded, ‘I am to be captain, and what I say must be law,
and what I do must be done.’
‘Saving this,’ said he, elevating two square fingers in imitation of my
gesture: ‘Fust, you ain’t going to order us to speak a ship, and next
you ain’t going to get us to obey ye if you should take it into your
head to steer for a port.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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