ear was cocked; his cup was poised; several times he looked at his watch. "The post!" exclaimed Mrs Williams at the thundering double knock on the door, and Jack made a visible effort to sit still in his chair until the servant appeared, saying" A letter and a book, sir, if you please, and a shilling to pay."
Jack felt in his pocket, frowned, and called across the table, "Have you a shilling in change, Stephen? Here's nothing small."
Stephen too plunged his hand into his breeches and came up with a mixed bag of currency, English, French and Spanish. "The gentleman has three gold pieces," said Cecilia, "and a large quantity of silver." But Stephen was deaf: he picked out twelve pence and handed them over, saying" Never mind me, I beg."
"Well, if you will all forgive me. "said Jack, breaking the seal. Mrs Williams craned her neck to make out all she could from her indifferent point of vantage, but before she could move to a better, her curiosity was satisfied. "Oh," said Jack, throwing the letter down, "it is only that fellow Bromley. I always knew he was a rake; now I know he is a scrub into the bargain. However, here is the Naval Chronicle. That is always worth reading. My dear, Stephen's cup is empty." He turned first to the appointments and promotions. "Goate is made post at last; I am heartily glad of it." Considerations upon the merits and demerits of Captain Goate and other acquaintances, also made post. Then, after a calculating pause, Jack said, "You know, Stephen, our losses last year were not as heavy as I made out last night. Listen: Jupiter, 50, wrecked in Vigo Bay; Leda, 38, wrecked off Milford Haven; Crescent, 36, wrecked off Jutland; Flora, 32, wrecked off Holland; Meleager, 36, wrecked on Barebush Cay; Astraea, 32, wrecked off Anagado. Only five frigates, you see. And as for the post-ships, only Banterer, 22, wrecked in the St Lawrence; Laurel, 22, taken by the Cannoniere, 50--you remember the Cannoniere, Stephen? I pointed her out to you once, when we were looking into Brest. An ancient old ship, built somewhere about 1710, but an amazing fine sailer; she can still give most of our heavy frigates top gallants on a bowline. Stephen, what's amiss?"
Stephen was gazing through the acrid smoke at Cecilia, who, bored with the conversation, had opened the clock's door with her greasy hands to get at the pendulum, a heavy jar of quicksilver.
"Oh, let the poor little treasure be," said Mrs Williams, looking at her granddaughter with the fondest admiration.
"Madam," said Stephen, his heart in pain for the exquisite mechanism, "she will do herself a mischief. That quicksilver is most delicately poised; furthermore it is poison."
"Cecilia," said Jack, "cut along now. Run away and play."
Contention, tears, Mrs Williams's nimble protective tongue, and Sophie led her niece from the room. Mrs Williams was not at all pleased, but in the silence the sound of the passing-bell came clear from the church; it instantly diverted her mind, and she cried, "That must be for poor Mrs Thwaites. She was due last week, and they sent for the man-midwife last night. There, Captain Aubrey." These last words were delivered with an inimical jerk of her head, a retaliation, as it were, for his list of male wreckage and death, an assertion of women's sacrifice.
Sophie returned with the news that a horseman was approaching the cottage. "It is news of poor Mrs Thwaites, no doubt," said Mrs Williams, looking hard at Jack again. But she was mistaken. It was a boy from the Crown, with a letter for Jack: he was to wait for an answer.
" "Lady Clonfert presents her compliments to Captain and Mrs Aubrey, and would be most grateful for a passage to the Cape. She promises to take up no room and to give no trouble whatsoever; and flatters herself that Mrs Aubrey will, as a fellow-sailor's wife, understand and support this sadly informal and hurried application. She also proposes, if perfectly convenient to Mrs Aubrey, to do herself the honour of
Jack felt in his pocket, frowned, and called across the table, "Have you a shilling in change, Stephen? Here's nothing small."
Stephen too plunged his hand into his breeches and came up with a mixed bag of currency, English, French and Spanish. "The gentleman has three gold pieces," said Cecilia, "and a large quantity of silver." But Stephen was deaf: he picked out twelve pence and handed them over, saying" Never mind me, I beg."
"Well, if you will all forgive me. "said Jack, breaking the seal. Mrs Williams craned her neck to make out all she could from her indifferent point of vantage, but before she could move to a better, her curiosity was satisfied. "Oh," said Jack, throwing the letter down, "it is only that fellow Bromley. I always knew he was a rake; now I know he is a scrub into the bargain. However, here is the Naval Chronicle. That is always worth reading. My dear, Stephen's cup is empty." He turned first to the appointments and promotions. "Goate is made post at last; I am heartily glad of it." Considerations upon the merits and demerits of Captain Goate and other acquaintances, also made post. Then, after a calculating pause, Jack said, "You know, Stephen, our losses last year were not as heavy as I made out last night. Listen: Jupiter, 50, wrecked in Vigo Bay; Leda, 38, wrecked off Milford Haven; Crescent, 36, wrecked off Jutland; Flora, 32, wrecked off Holland; Meleager, 36, wrecked on Barebush Cay; Astraea, 32, wrecked off Anagado. Only five frigates, you see. And as for the post-ships, only Banterer, 22, wrecked in the St Lawrence; Laurel, 22, taken by the Cannoniere, 50--you remember the Cannoniere, Stephen? I pointed her out to you once, when we were looking into Brest. An ancient old ship, built somewhere about 1710, but an amazing fine sailer; she can still give most of our heavy frigates top gallants on a bowline. Stephen, what's amiss?"
Stephen was gazing through the acrid smoke at Cecilia, who, bored with the conversation, had opened the clock's door with her greasy hands to get at the pendulum, a heavy jar of quicksilver.
"Oh, let the poor little treasure be," said Mrs Williams, looking at her granddaughter with the fondest admiration.
"Madam," said Stephen, his heart in pain for the exquisite mechanism, "she will do herself a mischief. That quicksilver is most delicately poised; furthermore it is poison."
"Cecilia," said Jack, "cut along now. Run away and play."
Contention, tears, Mrs Williams's nimble protective tongue, and Sophie led her niece from the room. Mrs Williams was not at all pleased, but in the silence the sound of the passing-bell came clear from the church; it instantly diverted her mind, and she cried, "That must be for poor Mrs Thwaites. She was due last week, and they sent for the man-midwife last night. There, Captain Aubrey." These last words were delivered with an inimical jerk of her head, a retaliation, as it were, for his list of male wreckage and death, an assertion of women's sacrifice.
Sophie returned with the news that a horseman was approaching the cottage. "It is news of poor Mrs Thwaites, no doubt," said Mrs Williams, looking hard at Jack again. But she was mistaken. It was a boy from the Crown, with a letter for Jack: he was to wait for an answer.
" "Lady Clonfert presents her compliments to Captain and Mrs Aubrey, and would be most grateful for a passage to the Cape. She promises to take up no room and to give no trouble whatsoever; and flatters herself that Mrs Aubrey will, as a fellow-sailor's wife, understand and support this sadly informal and hurried application. She also proposes, if perfectly convenient to Mrs Aubrey, to do herself the honour of
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