Fast as the Wind: A Novel. Gould Nat

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      "Thanks, old friend, thanks a thousand times. With your help there is no telling what may be accomplished. There must be some way out of it; such a terrible injustice cannot be allowed to go on for ever," said Picton.

      And so Captain Ben, as he was called, became the constant friend and companion of Picton Woodridge. When the Sea-mew was purchased it was Captain Ben who clinched the deal, and was appointed "skipper."

      "So I'm your stud manager and captain of your yacht, that's a queer combination," said Ben.

      "And you're as good in one capacity as the other," said Picton.

      "I think I'm safer on deck than on a horse," said Ben.

      It was Captain Ben Bruce who came quietly along the deck of the Sea-mew and looked at Picton Woodridge as he gazed over Torquay bay. A kindly look was in his eyes, which were always bright and merry, for he was a cheerful man, not given to look on the dark side of things. His affection for Picton was that of a father for a son, in addition to being a companion and a friend. He noticed the sad far-away look on Picton's face, and wondered what it was that caused the shadow on this beautiful April morning.

      "I'll leave him to his meditations," he thought; "he'll be down for breakfast, and I'll ask him then."

      He was about to turn away when Picton looked round and said with a smile: "Something told me you were there."

      "Telepathy," said Ben.

      "Sympathy," said Picton. "Do you know what I was thinking about?"

      "No; I saw you were pensive. I'd have asked you at breakfast, you looked so serious."

      "I was serious."

      "What caused the passing cloud on such a glorious morning?" asked Ben.

      Picton took him by the arm, his grip tightened; with the other hand he pointed to the battleship.

      "The boom of a gun," he said; and Ben Bruce understood.

      CHAPTER II

      STORY OF AN ESCAPE

      ROW me to the Sea-mew," said Dick Langford, and old Brackish touched his cap and replied, "Yes, sir; she's a beauty, she is. Hear the news, sir?"

      "No; anything startling?"

      "Nothin' out o' the common, at least not in these parts, but it's summat different to most."

      "You're always long-winded, Brackish – Yorkshireman, I suppose," said Dick impatiently.

      Brackish was a Yorkshire boatman, hailing from Scarborough; he came to Torquay because his mother, nearly ninety, could not stand the cold blasts of the North East coast, and the old salt had a heart. "Brack" had a rough red face, eyebrows lapped over a pair of blue eyes; his throat and chest were always bared, tanned the color of leather; black hair covered his chest; his hands were hard, a deeper brown than his chest, the hands of a son of toil, and a boatman. Brack had been popular at Scarborough; he was well known in Torbay as a brave hardy seaman, whom no weather daunted. At first he had joined the Brixham fishing fleet, but soon tired of it, and when he saved enough money he bought a couple of boats, and made a decent living in Torquay harbor.

      Brack was fond of gossip, and on this particular morning he was eager for a talk; it was his intention to have it out with Dick before he put foot in the boat, so he stood looking at the young man, barring his entrance to the craft he was eager to put his foot in. The old boatman was a sturdy figure in his rough seaman's clothes as he eyed Dick Langford, and, although impatient, Dick could not help smiling at him. He liked Brack, and the sailor returned the feeling.

      "Let me get in and you can tell me about the news as we row to the yacht," said Dick.

      "All right, sir; no hurry, you're here early. It's Mr. Woodridge's yacht, ain't it?"

      "Of course it is; you know the Sea-mew as well as I do."

      "Nice gentleman, Mr. Woodridge," said Brack.

      "If you don't let me get into the boat I'll take another," said Dick.

      Brack grinned.

      "You'll not be doin' that, I'm thinking, after all I've done for yer."

      "What have you done?" asked Dick surprised.

      Brack looked indignant.

      "Yer don't recollect? Well I'm blessed! Fancy forgettin' things like that!"

      "Out with it," said Dick.

      "I give yer the winner of the Leger three year runnin', and it's forgotten. Lor' bless us, what memories young gents has!" growled Brack.

      Dick laughed heartily as he said: "So you did, old man. You're a real good tipster for the Yorkshire race."

      "So I ought'er be. Don't I hail from there? I can always scent a Leger winner, smell 'em like I can the salt from the sea, comes natural somehow," said Brack, as he moved away and allowed Dick to step in. He pulled with long steady strokes and was soon out of the inner harbor, making for the yacht.

      "By jove, this is a lovely morning!" said Dick, looking at the glorious hills he knew so well.

      "Nowt like Yorkshire," growled Brack.

      Dick laughed as he said: "You're a lucky man to be at Torquay, all the same; much warmer, fine climate."

      "Hot as – ," said Brack with a grunt.

      "You haven't told me your news," said Dick.

      "It'll keep," said Brack.

      "Bet you a shilling you let it out before you reach the Sea-mew," said Dick.

      "I don't bet," said Brack.

      "You mean you dare not in this case, or you would lose."

      "Very like I should, because I see yer burstin' to hear it, and I wouldn't like to disappoint yer," said Brack, as he ceased rowing and leaned on his oars.

      "Tired?" said Dick.

      "With that bit of a pull," said Brack, disgusted; "I should think not!"

      "Then what are you resting for?"

      "I baint restin', I'm easin' my oars."

      "Oh, that's it: the oars are tired," said Dick.

      "No more tired than I am, but when I gives 'em a spell for a few minutes they seems to work better," said Brack. "What's more, I talks better when I leans on 'em, sort o' gives me composure, and time to think; I'm a beggar to think."

      Dick was amused; he wanted to reach the Sea-mew, but on this sunny morning it was good to sit in the boat on the blue smooth water and listen to old Brack for a few minutes.

      "You must have done a lot of thinking in your time," said Dick, falling into his humor.

      "I'm thinking now," said Brack.

      "What about?"

      "That poor devil who escaped from Dartmoor five days ago."

      Dick СКАЧАТЬ