Читать «Cup of Gold (Золотая чаша)» онлайн - страница 26

"Oh, it's a grand ship-a fine ship," cried Henry, wonder- struck.

Tim was proud. "But only come aboard of her, and see the fittings-all new. I'll be talking with the master about you."

Henry stood in the waist while the big seaman walked aft and pulled his cap before a lean skeleton of a man in a worn uniform.

"I have a boy," he said, though Henry could not hear; "a boy that's set his heart on the Indies, and I'm thinking you might be liking to take him, sir."

The hungry master scowled at him.

"Is he a strong boy who might be some good in the Islands, Bo's'n? So many of them die within the mouth, and there you have trouble the next trip."

"He is there, behind me, sir. You can see him yourself, standing there-and very well made and close knit he is too."

The hungry master appraised Henry, running his eyes from the sturdy legs to the full chest. His approval grew.

"He is a strong boy, all right; and good work for you, Tim. You shall have drink money of it and a little extra ration of rum at sea. But does he know anything about the arrangement?"

"Never a bit."

"Well, then, don't tell him. Put him to working in the galley. He'll think he's working out his passage. No use of caterwauling and disturbing the men off watch. Let him find out when he gets there." The master smiled and paced away from Tim.

"You can be going with us in the ship," the sailor cried, and Henry could not move for his pleasure.

"But," Tim continued seriously, "the four pound is not enough for passage. You'll be working a bit in the galley and we sailing."

"Anything," Henry said, "anything I'll do, so only I can go with you."

"Then let's ourselves go ashore and have a toast to a fine, free voyage; uisquebaugh for me, and that same grand wine for you."

They sat in a dusty shop whose walls were lined with bottles of all shapes and volumes, little pudgy flasks to giant demijohns. After a time they sang together, beating out the measures with their hands and smiling foolishly at each other. But at length the warm wine of Oporto filled the boy with a pleasant sadness. He felt that there were tears coming to his eyes, and he was rather glad of it. It would show Tim that he had his sorrows-that he was not just a feather-head boy with a craving to go to the Indies. He would reveal his depths.

"Do you know, Tim," he said, "there was a girl I came away from, and she was named Elizabeth. Her hair was gold-gold like the morning. And on the night before I came away, I called to her and she came to me in the dark; the dark was all about us like a tent, and cold. She cried and cried for me to stay, even when I told her of the fine things and the trinkets and the silks I would bring back to her in a little time.