The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
My feelings were so moved by this, as I became quite sure at last that
here was a little mortal, that the tears came to mine own eyes too, she
looked so purely pitiful. "The Lord in heaven have mercy on the little
dear!" I cried, without another thought about it; and then I went and
sat close by, so that she lay between my feet.
However, she would not awake, in spite of my whistling gradually, and
singing a little song to her, and playing with her curls of hair;
therefore, as nothing can last for ever, and the tide was rising fast, I
was forced to give the little lady, not what you would call a kick so
much as a very gentle movement of the muscles of the foot.
She opened her eyes at this, and yawned, but was much inclined to shut
them again; till I (having to get home that night) could make no further
allowance for her, as having no home to go to; and upon this I got over
all misgivings about the dirtiness of my jacket, and did what I had
feared to do, by reason of great respect for her; that is to say, I put
both hands very carefully under her, and lifted her like a delicate
fish, and set her crosswise on my lap, and felt as if I understood her;
and she could not have weighed more than twenty pounds, according to my
heft of fish.
Having been touched with trouble lately, I was drawn out of all
experience now (for my nature is not over-soft) towards this little
thing, so cast, in a dream almost, upon me. I thought of her mother,
well drowned, no doubt, and the father who must have petted her, and of
the many times to come when none would care to comfort her. And though a
child is but a child, somehow I took to that child. Therefore I became
most anxious as to her state of body, and handled her little mites of
feet, and her fingers, and all her outworks; because I was not sure at
all that the manner of her yawning might be nothing more or less than a
going out of this world almost. For think, if you can see it so, how
everything was against her. To be adrift without any food, or any one to
tend her, many hours, or days perhaps, with a red-hot sun or cold stars
overhead, and the greedy sea beneath her!
However, there she was alive, and warm, and limp, to the best of my
judgment, sad though I was to confess to myself that I knew more of bass
than of babies. For it had always so pleased God that I happened to be
away at sea when He thought fit to send them; therefore my legs went
abroad with fear of dandling this one, that now was come, in a way to
disgrace a seaman; for if she should happen to get into irons, I never
could get her out again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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