A Drake by George! - The Original Classic Edition. Trevena John

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СКАЧАТЬ the Captain, who was a soft-hearted old simpleton where his family was concerned, would take George by the shoulders, press him into a chair, give him money to buy tobacco which might ease his nerves, beg for his forgiveness, and behave like a beneficent Providence until wind and weather were favourable for the next thunderstorm.

       As a matter of fact, the Captain loved his nephew, who supported his opinions and flattered him continually. Besides, George was fond of cats, and respected the monkeys, and would frequently take the tortoise for a stroll. Mrs. Drake, on the other hand, made no secret of her contempt for an able-bodied man who seemed to regard Windward House as an hotel where he could receive board and lodging without payment. She reminded George constantly she had no money to leave, and when she was gone he would find himself dependent upon charity; but George would beg her not to worry, as he had no intention of outliving anyone who was so

       good to him. Mrs. Drake then stated that, in her opinion, he would in a future state of existence be separated from his uncle and herself, and for that alone he ought to feel ashamed. And George admitted he was ashamed, but even an ever present sense of shame was better, he thought, than a separation from his uncle and aunt in this life.

       Mrs. Drake had a good reason for not insisting upon George's departure. Doctors had warned her that the Captain's immense size was not a healthy symptom: upon his last voyage he had been discovered unconscious in his cabin; and although he declared subsequently this was nothing more than a fit of exhaustion easily to be explained by his first mate's habit of answering back, it was nevertheless accepted as a danger signal which made retirement necessary. Even the unprofitable George might be of service should a similar fit of exhaustion seize upon the Captain in his house.

       CHAPTER II

       EXHIBITION DAY AT WINDWARD HOUSE

       "Mansion and grounds will be thrown open to the public on Sunday afternoon, between the hours of three and five, for the inspec-tion of the rare and costly antiquities collected during his numerous voyages by Captain Francis Drake, who will personally conduct parties. As the hall carpet is of inestimable value, having formerly covered a floor in the Yildiz Palace, visitors are earnestly requested to wipe their boots."

       "I think you have forgotten, William," said Mrs. Drake, when her husband had posted this notice, "how you bought that strip of carpet at an auction sale for eighteen pence. The piece you bought from Turkey is in Bessie's bedroom."

       "Ah, yes, my dear, but it might just as well be in the hall, and for the purpose of exhibition we can quite easily imagine it is there,"

       replied the most capable showman.

       By twenty minutes past three, which was punctual for Highfield, a respectable number of villagers had gathered beside the noticeboard as though awaiting an excursion train: old men and young, women and children, stood huddled together like so many prisoners

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       of war, all very solemn and anxious. One little boy was sobbing bitterly because a report had reached him concerning another little boy who had been invited beyond that gate and introduced to the giant tortoise, which had displayed since then a singularly well-nourished appearance. Therefore he was vastly relieved when the Captain announced that, owing to the size of the crowd, which was adopting a closer formation every moment, children would not be admitted that afternoon, but a separate day would be arranged

       for the little ones, when they could play in the garden and feed the animals; an ominous invitation which made the little boy cry yet

       louder.

       The Yellow Leaf, who wore a coat not much younger than himself, as the father of the people, and related to everybody within a

       ten mile radius, stepped first into the house. He was, however, better dressed than the Wallower in Wealth, who was believed to own a mattress so well stuffed with gold and silver pieces that it could not be turned without the aid of crowbars. The Gentle Shepherd paused on the threshold to scrape the soles of his boots with a knife. The Dumpy Philosopher nervously unfastened a collar which was borrowed. The ladies wore all the finery they possessed.

       "You are now, ladies and gentlemen, standing in the hall of Windward House, upon the priceless carpet used by a former Sultan of

       Turkey as a praying mat," began the Captain.

       "Must ha' been a religious gentleman," said the Yellow Leaf approvingly, as he tapped his stick upon the threadbare patches. "And fond of a quiet smoke," added Squinting Jack, pointing to some holes obviously caused by cigar ends.

       "What size of a place would this Yildiz Parish be?" inquired the Gentle Shepherd.

       "Palace, my dear old fellow. It's the Windsor Castle of Turkey, where the Sultan prays and smokes, and signs death sentences of his

       Christian subjects."

       "Amazing small rooms," remarked the Dumpy Philosopher curtly.

       "The Turks don't cover the whole of their floors like we do," explained the Captain. "When the Sultan wants to pray, they spread a mat like this before the throne, and he comes down on it. When he's done praying, they roll up the mat and chuck it out of the window, for the Sultan never uses the same bit of carpet twice. I happened to be passing underneath his window when this particular mat was thrown out, so I picked it up and nipped off with it, though Christians are forbidden by the law of Turkey to touch anything the Sultan has even looked at."

       "Didn't 'em try to stop ye?" asked a lady.

       "They did," said the Captain grimly. "Though boasting isn't much in my line, they did try to stop me--officers of the army, ministers of state, officials of the court, men in the street--but Turks have enormous noses, while I own an uncommon big fist; and when

       one big thing, my dear, aims at another big thing, they are bound to meet. You can see the bloodstains on the carpet yet," declared the Captain, indicating a corner where Bessie had upset the furniture polish.

       "I do wish poor dear William wouldn't read so many newspapers," sighed Mrs. Drake in the background.

       "Now, my dear friends and neighbours," continued the showman, warming to his work, "although fully conscious of my own un-worthiness, I beg to draw your attention to this pedigree of my family, framed in English oak, and most beautifully decorated in the national colours by one of our leading artists. It commences, you see, with the name of my illustrious ancestor, Sir Francis Drake, the mighty admiral who, almost unaided, sent the Spanish Armada to the bottom of the Irish Sea. The head of the family has been honoured with the name of Francis ever since: the same name, ladies and gentlemen, and the same undaunted spirit. Boasting is painful to any member of the Drake family, yet I would say--give me the Irish Sea and some English ships; give me a hostile Navy, such as was faced by my immortal propogand ... my imperishable protogent ... my eternal prognosticator--that's the word, dear people--and if you think I'm boasting, I am very sorry for your opinion of Devonshire manliness and courage."

       "You ha' forgot to mention what you might do to the hostile Navy," reminded Squinting Jack. "Send it to the bottom," roared the Captain.

       "I can't bear to listen when he gets near the pedigree," murmured Mrs. Drake. "He will not remember he made it all up. And he has made me promise to put Francis on the gravestone."

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       "Wur Queen Elizabeth one of your descendants too?" inquired the Gentle Shepherd in great awe.

       "Not exactly: she was not, what you would describe as one of my forefathers," explained the Captain. "Her illustrious name is here inserted within brackets as an indication СКАЧАТЬ