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
"What would they have to say about me?" he exclaimed, with a rather
unmeaning smile. "I can believe that Sir William grows weary of my
presence, and that he sometimes wishes me at the bottom of the sea.
'Tis a pity that he did so ill in prize money. He was born to no
fortune, and married a moneyless lady, and here is my father, an
Admiral in the British Navy, obliged to dwell in a cottage fit only
to make a dwelling-house for a poet, whose calling is, I believe,
the poorest paid of any. I am much troubled," he continued in a
maudlin way, "to think that I should continue to be a burthen upon
the old gentleman. But I assure you on my honour, madam, if I am not
independent of him this moment 'tis not because I have not been as
diligent as Old Nick himself in looking about me. But go where I will
and ask where I will, the door is shut, the place is full, the answer
is nay. What a sweet little dog is that! How happy to be for ever
frisking about you and often lifted and caressed!"
Here he sighed so loudly that she could not fail to hear him, and
looked at her a little while with a somewhat tipsy steadfastness.
"There should be plenty to be done," said she. "There is the Army."
"The Army!" he cried. "Could you put a greater indignity upon a sailor
than to compel him to shoulder a handspike and march up and down as
though he were a soldier?"
She fell a-laughing at his sottish indignation, but quickly recollected
herself. He burst into a loud guffaw when he saw that he had amused
her, and said: "I was just now with Tupman. I wish I had his berth."
Here he looked behind him to see if the lieutenant was following, but
as a matter of fact Tupman had re-entered "The Swan." "He is stationed
here to guard us against being invaded by the French, which he provides
for so carefully by lying a-bed until ten in the morning, then sulking
over his breakfast of ale, new bread, and tobacco, then doing some
work in his bit of garden--he is a great lover of vegetables--then
lurching up to Old Harbour Town, where of an afternoon he may commonly
be found sitting over a pot reading the newspaper and yarning with
any man that will take a chair over against him, that I protest when
I met him at 'The Swan' not an hour gone by he had not heard that a
French privateersman had been chased ashore by one of our frigates last
evening, and burnt after ten thousand pounds had been taken out of her."
"I think if the French intend to invade us, they will not be stopped by
Mr Tupman and his brig."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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