Blackkerchief Dick by Margery Allingham

Author:Margery Allingham
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 1974-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter XII

It was seven o’clock on the following Wednesday evening and there was an air of expectation in the Ship’s kitchen.

The Coldlight was due to sail under a new name at the late tide.

Anny was upstairs preparing herself for Dick’s coming, while in the room below the talk ran high and many conjectures as to the Captain’s intentions were put forward and withdrawn, as the company drank round the fire.

“Osh, where’s the man as can withstand a pretty lass?” said Gilbot, smiling and hiccoughing over his sack.

“Ah, maybe, maybe, but ’tis a wonderful risky thing, this changing names o’ crafts,” put in Granger, wagging his head. “I don’t hold with it myself.”

“Ah, I reckon the Captain knows what he’s about; there ain’t many like him to a mile,” remarked another man.

“You’re right there,” said old Cip de Musset, who had been sitting silently in a corner for some time. “He ain’t no crab, but I’d not let a lass o’ mine have much to do with him.”

“What do you mean?” said Hal, firing up and coming over from the doorway where he had been standing.

Old Gilbot began to laugh.

“Hark to th’ lad,” he gurgled. “One would think he loved her hisself.”

Hal turned away from the light before he spoke and no one saw the deep flush which crept up over his features even to the roots of his hair, making his scalp tingle uncomfortably.

“We look after our wenches at the Ship, Master Gilbot,” he said hastily.

Gilbot nodded happily.

“Ay,” he said, “wesh do, wesh do!” and the talk continued.

Just as the clock by the chimney-piece struck the quarter, steps were heard coming across the yard, and Blackkerchief Dick, flanked by Blueneck and Habakkuk Coot, and backed by some nine or ten hardy ruffians, marched in at the door.

In an instant the little Spaniard was the centre of an enthusiastic group, for, since his first coming to the ship, Dick had done much to make himself popular, and now his deep musical voice was raised good-naturedly above the din calling for rum all round and sack for those who wished for it.

Hal and Sue darted about in obedience to his order and soon the company stood silent, mugs in hand, waiting for the toast. At this moment the inner door opened and Anny, dressed in the purple gown that Sue had given her, stepped into the kitchen.

Dick was at her side in a moment and respectfully taking her hand led her into the centre of the room.

“Ann of the Island, her health and beauty for ever!” he shouted, his tankard high above his head. The toast was given boisterously, and Anny blushed and smiled shyly.

Old Gilbot was enjoying himself thoroughly and took advantage of a lull in the conversation to exclaim:

“Letsh have a shong!” and then without any more ado began to quaver “Pretty Poll ”at the top of his voice.

The company took up the burden and the final “Lost in the rolling sea” was bellowed till the rafters shook.

“More rum,” called

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