The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
In the grey of the morning, I was up, ere the waning moon was done with,
and found the very thing to suit me going on delightfully. The heavy dew
of autumn, rising from the land by perspiration, spread a cloud along
the shore. A little mist was also crawling on the water here and there;
and having slept with a watch-coat and tarpaulin over me, I shook myself
up, without an ache, and like a good bee at the gate of the hive, was
brisk for making honey.
Hence I pulled away from land, with the heavy boat towing the light one,
and even Sandy Macraw unable to lay his gimlet eye on me. And thus I
rowed, until quite certain of being over three miles from land. Then
with the broad sun rising nobly, and for a moment bowing, till the white
fog opened avenues, I spread upon my pole a shirt which mother Jones had
washed for me. It was the time when Sandy Macraw was bound to be up to
his business; and I had always made a point of seeing that he did it. To
have a low fellow of itchy character, and no royal breed about him,
thrust by a feeble and reckless government into the berth that by nature
was mine, and to find him not content with this, but even in his hours
of duty poaching, both day and night, after my fish; and when I desired
to argue with him, holding his tongue to irritate me,--satisfaction
there could be none for it; the only alleviation left me was to rout up
this man right early, and allow him no chance of napping.
Therefore, I challenged him with my shirt, thus early in the morning,
because he was bound to be watching the world, if he acted up to his
nasty business, such as no seaman would deign to; and after a quarter of
an hour perhaps, very likely it was his wife that answered. At any rate
there was a signal up, and through my spy-glass I saw that people wanted
to launch a boat, but failed. Therefore I made a great waving of shirt,
as much as to say, "extreme emergency; have the courage to try again."
Expecting something good from this, they laid their shoulders, and
worked their legs, and presently the boat was bowing on the
gently-fluted sea.
Now it was not that I wanted help, for I could have managed it all well
enough; but I wanted witnesses. For never can I bear to seem to set at
nought legality. And these men were sure, upon half-a-crown, to place
the facts before the public in an honest manner. So I let them row away
for the very lives of them, as if the salvage of the nation hung upon
their thumbs and elbows; only I dowsed my shirt as soon as I found them
getting eager. And I thought that they might as well hail me first, and
slope off disappointment.
"Hoy there! Boat ahoy! What, old Davy Llewellyn!"
What man had a right to call me "old"? There I was as fresh as ever. And
I felt it the more that the man who did it was grey on the cheeks with a
very large family, and himself that vile old Sandy! Nevertheless I
preserved good manners.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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