Mehalah. Baring-Gould Sabine
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Название: Mehalah
Автор: Baring-Gould Sabine
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Документальная литература
isbn: 4064066418151
isbn:
"I have not properly thanked you, George, for your promise of help."
"Nor I, Mehalah, for the medal you have given me."
"Promise me, George, to wear it ever. It saved your life to-night."
"What! Does it save from death?"
"From sudden death," answered Mehalah. "I told you so before, in the boat."
"I forgot about it, Glory."
"The charm belonged to my mother's mother. She was a gipsy. My grandfather was a well-to-do man, owning a bit of land of his own; but he would go to law with a neighbour and lost it, and it went to the lawyer. My grandmother brought the charm with her, and it has been in the family ever since. It had been in the gipsy family of my grandmother time out of mind, and was lent about when any of the men went on dangerous missions. No one who wears it can die a sudden death from violence � that is" Mehalah qualified the assertion, "on land."
"It does not preserve you on the water then?" said George, with an incredulous laugh.
"I won't say that. It surely did so to-night. It saves from shot and stab."
"Not from drowning?"
"I think not."
"I must get a child's caul, and then I shall be immortal."
"Don't joke, George," said Mehalah gravely. "What I say is true."
"Glory!" said De Witt, "I always thought you looked like a gipsy and now from your own lips comes the confession that you are one."
"There is none of the blood in my mother," said she. "She is like an ordinary Christian. I fancy it jumps a generation."
"Well then, you dear gipsy, here is my hand. Tell my fortune."
"I cannot do that. But I have given you a gipsy charm against evil men and accidents."
"Hark!"
Out of the clear heaven was heard plaintive whistles, loud, high up inexpressibly weird and sad, "Ewe! ewe! ewe!" They burst shrilly on the ears, then became fainter, then burst forth again, then faded away. It was as though spirits were passing in the heavens wailing about a brother sprite that had flickered into nothingness.
"The curlew are in flight. What is the matter, Mehalah?"
The girl was shivering.
"Are you cold!"
"George! those are the Seven Whistlers."
"They are the long-beaked curlew going south."
"They are the Seven Whistlers, and they mean death. For God's sake, George," she threw her arms round him, "swear to me, never to lay aside the medal I have given you, but to wear it night and day."
"There! Glory, I swear it."
Chapter 4 Red Hall
There was commotion on the beach at Mersea City.
A man of war, a schooner, lay off the entrance to the Blackwater, and was signalling with bunting to the coastguard ship, permanently anchored off the island, which was replying. War had been declared with France some time, but as yet had not interfered with the smuggling trade which was carried on with the Low Countries. Cruisers in the Channel had made it precarious work along the South Coast, and this had rather stimulated the activity of contraband traffic on the East. It was therefore with no little uneasiness that a warship was observed standing off the Mersea flats. What was the purport of the correspondence carried on between the schooner and the coastguard? Such was the query put about among those gathered on the shingle.
They were not long left in doubt, for a boat manned by coastguards left the revenue vessel and ran ashore, the captain sprang out, and went up the beach to his cottage, followed by a couple of the crew. The eager islanders crowded round the remainder, and asked the news.
The captain was appointed to the command of the schooner, the Salamander, which had come from the Downs under the charge of the first lieutenant, to pick him up. The destiny of the Salamander was, of course unknown.
Captain Macpherson was a keen, canny Scot, small and dapper; as he pushed through the cluster of men in fishing jerseys and wading boots he gave them a nod and a word, "You ought to be serving your country instead of robbing her, ye loons. Why don't you volunteer like men, there's more money to be made by prizes than by running spirits."
"That won't do, captain," said Jim Morrell, an old fisherman. "We know better than that. There's the oysters."
"Oysters!" exclaimed the captain; "there'll be no time for eating oysters now, and no money to pay for them neither. Come along with me, some of you shore crabs. I promise you better sport than sneaking about t he creeks. We'll have at Johnny Crapaud with gun and cutlass."
Then he entered his cottage to say farewell to his wife.
Attention was all at once distracted by a young woman in a tall taxcart who was endeavouring to urge her horse along the road, but the animal, conscious of having an inexperienced hand on the rein, played a number of tricks, to her great dismay.
"Oh, do please some of you men lead him along. He is frightened by seeing so many of you."
"Where are you going, Phoebe?" asked old Morrell.
"I'm only going to Waldegraves," she answered. "Oh bother the creature! There he goes again!" as the horse swung round.
"De Witt!" she cried, "do hold his head."
George at once went to the rescue.
"Lead him on, De Witt, please, till we are away from the beach."
The young man good-naturedly held the bit, and the horse obeyed.
"Why, Phoebe," said De Witt, "what are you driving for? Waldegraves is not more than a mile and a half off, and you might have walked the distance well enough."
"I've sprained my ankle, and I can't walk. I must go to Waldegraves, I have a message there to my aunt, so Isaac Mead lent me the horse."
"Can't you go on now?" asked De Witt letting go the bridle. The horse began to jib and rear.
"You are lugging at his mouth fit to break his jaw, Phoebe. No wonder the beast won't go."
"Am I, George? I don't understand the horse. Oh dear! I shall never get to Waldegraves by myself."
"Don't jab his mouth in that way."
"He is turning round. He will go home again. Oh George! Save me."
"Of course he will turn if you drag at the rein."
"I don't understand СКАЧАТЬ