He am awful bad."
Captain Bones gave utterance to a burst of profanity and seriously hoped
the wounded sailor would either get well or die, and be very quick about
it. Fernando heard him as he lay in the barn loft and could not refrain
from chuckling.
"We've got to move soon," growled the captain. "No ship will ever put
into this port for us. We must march to Halifax."
"Golly! guess dis chile see himself marchin' ter Halifax," the negro
murmured, when the captain had left the barn.
Captain Bones was quartered at the best fisherman's cabin in the
neighborhood. It was not much of a shelter, but it was the best he could
find. Captain Bones was provoked at the delay in Fernando's recovery. He
knew he was an impressed American, and if he left him, he would be lost
to the service, and yet he dared not much longer delay going to Halifax.
He was bargaining with a coasting schooner to take himself and crew to
Halifax, when one evening Terrence came to him with a very serious face,
as if the fortunes of Great Britain were in peril.
"Captain, it's bad news I have for ye," said Terrence. "The brandy is
all gone, and divil a bit o' whiskey can be had for love or money." This
was alarming to Captain Bones; but Terrence suggested that three miles
away lived a farmer Condit, whose cellar abounded with kegs of apple
jack and cider. Condit was a rabid republican and would not give a
Briton a drop if he were dying for it; but, if the captain would be
taken into his confidence, he had a little scheme to propose which had a
trifle of risk in it, just enough to give spice to it.
Pages:
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216