Would you, deary?"
Florence, trembling with an agitation which she could not control or
understand, involuntarily followed his glance, which went behind her
into the shop where a lamp was burning. The instant that she turned her
head, the captain sprung out of his chair, and interposed his hand.
"There's nothing there, my Beauty," said the captain. "Don't look
there!"
Then he murmured something about its being dull that way, and about the
fire being cheerful. He drew the door ajar, which had been standing open
until now, and resumed his seat. Florence looked intently in his face.
"The story was about a ship, my Lady Lass," began the captain, "as
sailed out of the port of London, with a fair wind and in fair weather,
bound for--Don't be took aback my Lady Lass, she was only out'ard.
Pretty, only out'ard bound!"
The expression on Florence's face alarmed the captain, who was himself
very hot and flurried, and showed scarcely less agitation than she did.
"Shall I go on, Beauty?" said the captain.
"Yes, yes, pray!" cried Florence.
The captain made a gulp as if to get down something that was stuck in
his throat, and nervously proceeded:
"That there unfortunate ship met with such foul weather, out at sea, as
don't blow once in twenty year, my darling. There was hurricanes ashore
as tore up forests and blowed down towns, and there was gales at sea,
even in them latitudes, as not the stoutest wessel ever launched could
live in.
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