Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
Darkeih, laden with cushions, appeared at the edge of the wharf.
Landless, standing in the bow below her, relieved her of her burdens,
and taking her by the hands, swung her down into the boat. She thanked
him with a smile that showed every tooth in her comely brown
countenance, and tripped aft, where, with the assistance of Regulus, she
proceeded to arrange a cushioned seat for her mistress.
Landless waited for the lady of the manor to come forward. In the act
of extending her hands to the boatman, she glanced at him, crimsoned,
and drew back. Landless, interpreting color and action aright, buckled
his armor of studied quiet more closely over a hurt and angry heart.
"I was ordered to attend you, madam," he said proudly. "But if you so
desire, I will find the overseer and tell him that you wish for some one
else in my place."
"There is not time," was the cold reply. "And as well you as any other.
Let us be going."
Landless held out his arms again. She measured with her eyes the
distance between her and the boat. "I do not need any help," she said.
"If you will stand aside, I can spring from here to the prow.
"And strike the water instead, madam," said Landless, grimly, "when I
would have to touch more than your hand in order to pull you out."
She colored angrily, but held out her hands. Landless lifted her down
and steadied her to her seat in the stern. She thanked him coldly, and
began at once to talk to Regulus with the playful familiarity of a
child. Regulus grinned delight; he had been "’lil Missy’s" slave from
her childhood. Landless untied the boat from the piles and pushed her
off; Regulus, who was to steer, pulled the tiller towards him, and the
little Bluebird glided from the wharf, made a wide and graceful sweep,
and proceeded leisurely down the inlet towards the waters of the great
bay.
Landless seated himself in the bow, and turned his face away from the
group in the stern. Patricia leaned back amidst her cushions, and
opened a book; Darkeih, upon the other side of the rudder, held a
whispered flirtation with Regulus, squatting at her feet, the tiller in
his hand. There was but little wind, but what there was came from the
land, and the Bluebird moved steadily though listlessly down the inlet,
between the velvet marshes. The water broke against the sides of the
boat with a languid murmur. It was very hot, and the sky above was of a
steely, unclouded blue that hurt the eyes. Only in the southwest the
line of cloud hills was erecting itself into an Alpine range. The glare
of the sun upon the white pages of her book dazzled Patricia’s eyes; the
heat and the lazy swaying motion made her drowsy; With a sigh of
oppression she closed her book, and taking her fan from Darkeih, laid it
across her face, and curled herself among her cushions.
"I will sleep awhile," she said to her hand-maiden, and serenely glided
into slumberland.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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