Rob of the Bowl: A Legend of St. Inigoe's. Vol. 1 (of 2)Kennedy, John Pendleton
History
Rob of the Bowl: A Legend of St. Inigoe's. Vol. 1 (of 2)
Kennedy, John Pendleton
Maryland -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
"Or the good red gold, or the good red gold, old jade!" interrupted the
Cripple. "The skipper doth not shrink in the girdle from the disease of
a lean purse, and is therefore worthy of our worshipful entertainment.
So goes the world, and we will be in the fashion! Though the world's
malisons drive him hither as before a tempest, yet, comes he rich in
its gear; he shall have princely reception. I am king of this castle,
and ordain it. Is he taking in sail?--is he seeking an anchorage? Ha,
he understands his craft, and will be with us anon," he continued, as
he marked the movements of the approaching vessel.
There might be dimly seen, nearly abreast of St. Jerome's, a
close-reefed brig, holding her course before a fair wind directly
across the bay towards the hut of the Cripple. She was, at intervals,
lost to view behind the thickening haze, and as often re-appeared as
she bent under the fresh north-east breeze and bounded rapidly with the
waves towards the lee shore. It was after the hour of sunset when the
tenants of the hut were just able to discern, in the murky gloom of the
near nightfall, that she had lowered sail and swung round with her head
seaward, at an anchorage some two miles out in the bay.
"Quick, Mistress Kate, and kindle some brush-wood on the shore," said
the master of the hut. "It grows suddenly dark, and the boat's crew
will need a signal to steer by."
The woman gathered a handful of fagots, and, kindling them into a
blaze, transferred them to the beach in front of the hut, where,
notwithstanding the rain, they burned with a steady light. This
illumination had not subsided before the stroke of oars rose above the
din of the waves; and the boat with her crew, sheeted with the broad
glare of the signal-fire, suddenly appeared mounted on the surf,
surrounded with foam and spray, and in the same instant was heard
grating on the gravel of the beach.
Cocklescraft, with two seamen, entered the hut. The skipper was now in
the prime of youthful manhood; tall, active and strong, with the free
step and erect bearing that no less denoted the fearlessness of his
nature than pride in the consciousness of such a quality. His face,
tinged with a deep brown hue, was not unhandsome, although an
expression of sensuality, to some extent, deprived it of its claim to
be admired. A brilliant eye suffered the same disparagement by its
over-ready defiance, which told of a temper obtrusively prone to
quarrel. The whole physiognomy wanted gentleness, although a fine set
of teeth, a regular profile, and a complexion which, with proper
allowance for exposure to the weather, was uncommonly good, would
unquestionably have won from the majority of observers the repute of a
high degree of masculine beauty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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