The Yarn of Old Harbour TownRussell, William Clark
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The Yarn of Old Harbour Town
Russell, William Clark
English fiction -- 20th century; Historical fiction; Sea stories
"The _Aurora_!" cried Captain Acton. "How nobly she sits! How her sharp
bows eat into it! Does not she come along handsomely? What a slaver she
would make! Nothing flying the British flag could catch her. I did not
conceive her due before next Wednesday. She has not been nabbed this
voyage, at all events."
"She floats in like a swan," said Miss Acton.
"A most unfortunate image, sister," rejoined the Captain, laughing;
"for a swan's white bulk sits low upon the water, whilst yonder beauty
is all airy, cloudlike height."
The breakfast bell at this moment summoned them from the lawn. At table
Captain Acton said that he had asked Mr Lawrence to meet him at his
office down on the quay at half-past ten. This office was in a little
house a few minutes' walk from the warehouses. Captain Acton employed
a person who looked after his affairs, who, with the assistance of
a couple of clerks, saw to the delivery and loading of cargoes, to
the needs of the ships in respect of gear, canvas, carpenters' and
boatswains' stores, and so forth. But not the less did the gallant
Captain take an interest in his own business. He was laudably anxious
to promote the prosperity of Old Harbour and Old Harbour Town, but
though he was a rich man--a very rich man indeed in those days, having
come into a fortune of eighty thousand pounds, together with the finely
wooded and beautiful freehold estate known as Old Harbour House--he
was by no means disposed to lose money in marine speculation; so he
kept a keen eye upon the books, examined narrowly all the demands which
were made for the ship's furniture, closely watched the markets in
rum, sugar, and coffee, and having a clear perception of the risks of
war, justly appraised the value of his tonnage to those who desired
consignments through his bottoms.
Shortly after breakfast he left the house and walked by way of the lane
to the Harbour.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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