The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
But when I came to hear his case, and he for a moment would not admit
that it was worse than usual, or that he wanted pity more than any other
men do, and scarcely knew how far he ought, or dared even, to accept it;
and then at the gurgling of his pipe, fancied that he heard somebody;
Jerry and I squeezed hands for a moment, and were very careful not to
tantalise this poor man, with our strong-set resolution. "Give a wide
berth to all womankind," was what we would have said, if we could when
now it was too late for him; "failing that, stand off and on, and let
the inhabitants come down, and push off their boats, and victual you."
Poor Heaviside fetched a sigh enough to upset all arrangements; for
Jerry and I (good widowers both) were not likely to be damped, at the
proper time for jollifying, by the troubles of a man who was meant to
afford us rather a subject for rejoicing. Therefore we roused him up,
and said, or at least conveyed to him, that he must not be so sadly down
upon his luck like this. And hearing that he had six children now, and
was in fear of a seventh one, I was enabled to recollect more than
twenty instances of excellent women who had managed six, and gone off at
the seventh visitation.
This good news put such sudden spirit into my old shipmate, that he
ceased for a long time to be afeared of all that his wife could do to
him. He never said a word to show what his mind suggested to him,
whether good or evil. Only he made me tell those cases of unmerited
mercy (as he put it) such a number of times that I saw what comfort he
was deriving. And then we challenged him to tell us what was going on
with him.
He seemed rather shy of discussing himself, but said that he was in Sir
Philip's service, as boatman, long-shoreman, and river-bailiff, also
pork-salter (as a son of the brine), and watercress-picker to the
family. In a word, he had no work whatever to do; as you may pretty
safely conclude, when a man is compelled to go into a catalogue of his
activities. This sense of ease overweighed him no doubt, and made the
time hang heavily, after so much active service, so that Naval
Instructor Heaviside moved about, and began to gossip, and having no
business of his own, spent his mind upon other folks'. Now, as we began
to see through him, and the monotony of a fellow who is under his wife's
thumb (without the frankness to acknowledge, and enlist our sympathies
for this universal burden), both Jerry and I desired to hear something a
little more new than this. All things are good in their way, and devised
by a finely careful Providence; so that no man, whose wife is a plague
to him, can fail of one blessed reflection--to wit, that things are
ordered so for the benefit of his fellow-creatures.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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