The Yarn of Old Harbour TownRussell, William Clark
General
The Yarn of Old Harbour Town
Russell, William Clark
English fiction -- 20th century; Historical fiction; Sea stories
After a few minutes he came out. He approached the cabin table and
stood close. His face wore a mingled look of astonishment and fear, and
he was very pale. He was as grotesque as something fanciful in a fairy
story, with his red hair, hump, long arms, rounded legs, and whilst he
stood he scratched himself as a monkey does. His chin was enormous, and
out of all proportion to his face.
"Is Miss Acton eating her dinner?"
"No, sir."
"What did she say to you?"
"Why, your honour, when I went in she looked at me and burst into a
laugh that turned my blood cold."
"She didn't know you to be the man that gave her the letter that
brought her here?"
"She didn't look as if she remembered me, your honour, and she said
nothing about it."
"What did she say?"
"Why, your honour, she says whilst I hold the tray, 'What are you?'
'I'm the ship's steward, your ledyship,' says I. 'Ay, but what else?'
says she. 'What forest was you caught in?' I didn't understand her,
sir, and didn't answer. 'Do you come from Africa?' says she, 'or have
you broke loose from a travelling wild beast show?'"
Mr Lawrence arched his eyebrows. Certainly he did not recognise the
sweet and sympathetic Lucy Acton in these questions.
"And then she says, frowning as though she'd up with a knife off the
tray and run it into me, 'What have you got there?' 'Your dinner, your
ledyship,' says I. 'Put it down upon the floor!' says she in a sort of
shriek, as if she was trying to sing. 'Don't you see I'm in tatters?
They've got me here who am a princess at home, and these are my rags
and all I've got,' says she, spreading her dress with her hands as
though she was goin' to skip. 'Beggars in rags feed on the floor:
they feed so. Anywhere's good enough for them. I've seen 'em sitting
on the edge of ditches eating. Put the food on the floor! That's how
princesses in tatters dine.' I did as I was ordered, your honour, and
came away."
"Go in presently and see if she's done, and ask if she'll have some
fruit pie or cake, and report if the tray is still on the deck."
"Yes, sir," answered Paul, who was not sailor enough to say, "Ay, ay,
sir," which should have been his speech.
Mr Lawrence was exceedingly thoughtful. What opinion he was arriving
at, whether he was beginning to think that the girl was really mad or
that she was merely acting with extravagant absurdity in the hope of
disgusting him, you could not have told by looking at his face.
In about ten minutes after Paul had made his report, Mr Lawrence told
him to knock on Miss Acton's cabin door and enter. This time the door
swung to and fro, and Mr Lawrence, who had turned in his seat to follow
the steward's movements, saw Miss Acton upon all fours upon the deck
with her face close to the tray, as though she was taking up the food
with her mouth. A swing of the vessel hove the door to its latch, and
hid the extraordinary picture.
A minute or two later Paul came out, shutting the door after him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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