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
In the second dog-watch the crew were mustered aft and divided into
watches. It was tolerably certain that down to this moment no hint had
found its way amongst them that their course would presently be for any
other port in the world than Kingston.
Mr Lawrence supped alone as he had dined alone, and, as he intended,
to breakfast alone. At sea the last meal which in the old forecastle
days consisted of black tea and ship's biscuit was invariably called
supper. At six o'clock Mr Lawrence sat down to the last meal of the
day. A tray for the inmate of the Captain's cabin was prepared. It was
furnished with tea and milk (for the ship was but one day out, and
though she wanted a cow she could not need at least a day's supply of
milk), bread and butter, slices of ham and biscuits. When the steward
came from the cabin Mr Lawrence said: "Did the young lady speak?"
"No, sir."
"What is she doing?"
"She is pulling feathers and other stuff out of her bed which she has
drawed from its place on to the deck, and she is sitting alongside of
it a-fluffing of the feathers over the cabin floor."
"Did she look at you when you entered?"
"She didn't seem as if she even saw me, your honour."
"Has she eaten anything, can you tell me?"
"When I fetched her tray last time, sir, I noticed that some sandwiches
and tongue was gone, and there was a little red wine in the bottom of
the tumbler, as though she had drunk some and left a drop."
"She has ripped up her mattress and is throwing the inside of it round
about her!" Mr Lawrence frowned, pursed his lip, and stared upon the
deck with a strange admixture of gloom and anger.
In truth there had come into his mind the remembrance of a person who
had fallen mad, and amongst the earliest indications of his insanity
was his tendency to tear up everything that would yield to the power of
his fingers, including his clothes.
"By-and-by," said he, "go in and clear the mess up. Take no notice of
her, nor heed her if she speaks. Then fetch the mattress from the upper
bunk in my cabin and place it on her bedstead."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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