The Blighted Cliffs by Edwin Thomas

Author:Edwin Thomas [Thomas, Edwin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-05-28T03:13:43+00:00

11

WE ENTERED THE HARBOUR THE FOLLOWING MORNING, SUNDAY, using the boats to tow us in, for our makeshift sail had come unstuck in the night. Thankfully, that was the worst that befell us: whatever the cause of the noises and splashes I'd heard, or imagined, no-one had come into sight.

Once we were moored by the boatyards, on the seaward side of the basin, I discovered the benefit of a devout commander, for Crawley let all but the barest of skeleton crews off the boat on a day's leave to observe the Sabbath as we saw fit. It certainly made a change from the sort of zealot who remembered nothing of the Bible beyond the line about sparing the rod and spoiling the crew. But although I for once had an empty day stretching before me, the prospect of some unaccustomed leisure did not lift my spirits in the least; indeed, it weighed upon me. The dirty light of the day seemed to tarnish everything it touched, including my spirits, which were drab enough to begin with. And the ever-present rain was getting heavier.

It was the sort of day I might often have spent in a tavern, but I had no-one to drink with and I doubted many of the locals would welcome a naval officer to their table. If I went back to my room at the inn, I would likely be lunatic by nightfall. So I walked through the town, and knocked on Miss Hoare's door.

A young girl answered, a scrawny thing, with wide blue eyes and red hair tied in pig-tails. I doubted she was much younger than Isobel, but her figure was not yet womanly - or perhaps she was just underfed - and she lacked Isobel's more thoughtful demeanour.

I lifted my hat. 'Is Miss Hoare at home?' I asked stoutly. The first law of sneaking is to be as forthright as possible.

She giggled behind a cupped hand. 'No, sir,' she said, wobbling into a low curtsy. 'She ain't.'

This was excellent news. 'How about Mrs...' I searched my memory for Isobel’s married name. 'Mrs, urn, Isobel?'

The blue eyes opened wider still. 'Isobel's 'ere, yes, sir.' She bobbed again, leaning forward ever so slightly. 'Was you wantin' to see 'er? We doesn't normally take visitors. 'Specially on a Sunday.'

'Doubtless you can make an exception.' I was in no mood to be thwarted by this puck of a gatekeeper.

'Sure I can,' said the girl, winking heavily. 'For a shillin'.'

Her opportunism was astounding. 'You'll have tuppence and not a ha'penny more,' I told her, loath to set her in bad habits.

She pondered this, chewing on a braid. 'I could do it for a sixpence. An' that's only a penny for every stripe I'll get if Miss 'oare finds me out.'

I wondered where she had learned these bartering skills, and what future career they might open for her. Clearly they were squandered on washing.

'Sixpence, then.' I was reluctant to linger much longer on the doorstep.

A well-scrubbed palm shot out under my nose, and the coin vanished into her tiny fist.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.