The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
However, they managed it at last; and growing so cold in my shoulders
now, as well as my knees uncomfortable, right glad was I to hear what
the maiden listened to with intense despair; that is to say, the
captain's footfall, a yard further off every time of the sound. Ho went
along the Braunton road, to find his boat where the river bends. And
much as I longed to know him better, and understand why he did such
things, and what he meant by hankering so after this young lady, outside
his own father's house, and refusing to go inside when invited, and
speaking of his own bad luck so much, and having a chest put away from
the moonlight, likewise his men in the distance so far, and compelled to
keep round the corner, not to mention his manner of walking, and
swinging his shoulders, almost as if the world was nothing to him;
although I had never been perhaps so thoroughly pushed with desire of
knowledge, and all my best feelings uppermost, there was nothing for me
left except to ponder, and to chow my quid, rowing softly through the
lanes and lines of misty moonlight, to my little cuddy-home across the
tidal river.
CHAPTER XXXII.
AMONG THE SAVAGES.
At this moment it became a very nice point to perceive what was really
honest and right, and then to carry it out with all that fearless
alacrity, which in such cases I find to be, as it were, constitutional
to me. My high sense of honour would fain persuade me to keep in
strictest secrecy that which (so far as I could judge) was not, or might
not have been, intended for my eyes, or ears, or tongue. On the other
hand, my still higher sense of duty to my employer (which is a most
needful and practical feeling), and that power of loyalty which descends
to me, and perhaps will die with me, as well as a strong, and no less
ancestral, eagerness to be up to the tricks of all mysterious beings--I
do not exaggerate when I say that the cut-water of my poor mind knew not
which of these two hands pulled the stronger oar.
In short, being tired, and sleepy, and weary, and worn out with want of
perceiving my way, although I smoked three pipes all alone (not from the
smallest desire for them, but because I have routed the devil thus many
and many a night I know--as the priests do with their incense; the
reason of which I take to be, that having so much smoke at home, he
shuns it when coming for change of air--growing dreamy thus), I said,
with nobody to answer me, "I will tumble into my berth, as this dirty
craft has no room for hammocks; and, between Parson and Captain, I will
leave my dreams to guide me."
I played with myself, in saying this. No man ever should play with
himself. It shows that he thinks too troublesomely; and soon may come,
if he carries it on, almost to forget that other people are nothing,
while himself is everything. And if any man comes to that state of mind,
there is nothing more to hope of him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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