The discarded daughter; or, The children of the isleSouthworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
General
The discarded daughter; or, The children of the isle
Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
Chesapeake Bay Region (Md. and Va.) -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Maryland -- Fiction
In the meantime Garnet had reached the shore at which the Mount Calm
fleet of boats were chained—boats of all sizes, from the long skiff to
the twelve-oared canoe and the sail-boat. She entered the smallest of
the skiffs, followed by Pompey, who immediately unlocked the chain, took
the single oar, and pushed off from the sandy beach. The bay was
perfectly smooth, and reflected the dark, resplendent sky, with its
myriads beyond myriads of shining lights so distinctly that the little
skiff seemed to glide among the stars as it sped over the waters. Soon
before then lay Hutton’s Island, like a darker line upon the sea. And
there, like a single star, shone the solitary light! Yet so much deeper
was Garnet’s love of nature than of adventure, that she delivered
herself up to intense enjoyment of the starlight night on the waters,
forgetful of her errand, until the slight shock of the skiff, touching
upon the strand of the island, aroused her from her trance. Then, when
she looked up, the light on the isle was gone.
“That is very provoking! Now who would have thought that darkly and
silently as we came we should have been perceived? However, light your
pine knot, Pompey, and come along.”
Pompey had been selected as her attendant in this expedition by Miss
Seabright, as being the least superstitious and cowardly of all her men,
yet now the namesake of “The Invincible” shrank back in dread,
muttering:
“Indeed, indeed, miss, you’d better not!”
“Pompey! whoever the dweller on this isle is, it is some poor wretch,
more worthy of our pity than of our fear; weak and timid, since it
watches and hides from even such harmless visitors as we. Come along!”
“’Deed—’deed, miss, that aint good reasonin’! ’Deed, ’fore my Heavenly
Marster, aint, miss. ’Deed—’deed—’deed—’deed——” muttered Pompey, his
teeth chattering, until he lost his voice.
“Give me the torch then, Pompey; I will go before. You may follow me as
distantly as you please, and run at the first alarm!”
“I think that would be the mos’ safes’, miss; caze dey wouldn’t be so
apt to shoot a young lady, miss, as they would to shoot a colored gemman
ob my siteration in deciety.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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