“The girl never screamed or even spoke, and, amid all the hubbub of a drunken skipper and a disorderly crew, she remained quiet and unmoved. To assure the people, I told them that I would stay by the ship and do what I could for them. At this the old lady clasped me around the neck, and kissed me, and blubbered over me more than ever she did, I imagined, to the old Spanish judge, her husband––imploring me too, by all the saints she could think of, to 91 take herself and daughter out of the sinking vessel at once. You may believe that I would much rather have been treated in that way by the lovely girl with the wonderful eyes instead of the fat, rancid old woman beside her; but there was no help for it just then, and so I consented, with all the professions of sympathy I could make, to do as she desired.”
Here the captain lit a pure Havana, and, after a few puffs and a sip of Port, continued:
CHAPTER XV.
DROWNING A MOTHER TO MURDER A DAUGHTER.
|
“At last she startled up, And gazed on the vacant air With a look of awe, as if she saw Some dreadful phantom there.” |
“No sooner had I assured the old lady that I would transfer them to my vessel than her daughter made a step forward, and, letting her shawl fall upon the deck, she seized my hand with both of hers, and said, in a low contralto voice,
“‘Heaven bless you, señor!’
“By the cestus of Venus, caballeros, the pressure of that girl’s hand, and the deep, speaking look of gratitude she gave me out of her liquid eyes, quite did my business!”
“And the señorita’s too, I think,” chimed in the one-eyed commander, as he wagged his uneasy head at the narrator.