Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 18th century -- Fiction; Nore Mutiny, 1797 -- Fiction
The order was obeyed as an order generally is by men working for their
escape from what they most dreaded, poverty and imprisonment; and,
before the frigate could reduce her sails, which were more than she
could carry on a wind, the lugger had shot away on her weather quarter,
and was a quarter of a mile in advance. The frigate tacked after her,
firing gun after gun, but without success. Fortune favoured McElvina;
and the shades of night soon hid the lugger from the sight of her
irritated and disappointed pursuers. A long career was before _La Belle
Susanne_: she was not to be taken that time.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
A fisherman he had been in his youth;
But other speculations were, in sooth,
Added to his connection with the sea,
Perhaps not so respectable, in truth,
...
He had an only daughter.
DON JUAN.
Not possessing a prompter's whistle, we must use, as a substitute, the
boatswain's call, and, at his shrill pipe, we change the scene to a back
parlour in one of the most confined streets at the east end of England's
proud and wealthy metropolis. The _dramatis personae_ are an elderly
and corpulent personage, with as little of fashion in his appearance as
in his residence; and a young female of about twenty years of age, with
expressive and beautiful features, but wanting "the damask on the
cheek," the true value of which the fair sex so well appreciate, that,
if not indebted for it to nature, they are too apt to resort to art for
an unworthy imitation.
The first-mentioned of these two personages was busy examining, through
his spectacles, some papers which lay on the table before him--
occasionally diverted from his task by the pertinacity of some flies,
which seemed to have taken a particular fancy to his bald forehead and
scalp, which, in spite of his constant brushing off, they thought proper
to consider as a pleasant and smooth sort of coursing-plain, placed
there (probably in their ideas) solely for their amusement. Part of a
decanter of wine, and the remains of a dessert, crowded the small table
at which he sat, and added to the general air of confinement which
pervaded the whole.
"It's very hot, my dear. Open the window, and let us have a little
air."
"Oh, father," replied the young woman, who rose to throw up the sash,
"you don't know how I pine for fresh air. How long do you intend to
continue this life of constant toil and privation?"
"How long, my dear? Why, I presume you do not wish to starve--you would
not be very well pleased if, when you applied for money, as you do,
every week _at least_, I were to tell you that the bag was empty."
"Oh, nonsense--I know better, father; don't think so poorly of me as to
attempt to deceive me in that way."
"And pray, Miss Susan, what do you know?" said the old gentleman,
looking up at her through his spectacles, as she stood by the side of
his chair.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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