The Golden Pool : a Story of a Forgotten Mine
Copyright© 2024 by R. Austin Freeman
In Which I Bid Farewell to the Reader
The Lady Jane glided up the bay, taking in sail as she went; and as square after square of creamy white canvas was gathered up into wrinkled festoons, the men began to crowd out on to the yards, and the hoarsely-carolled strains of “Old Horse” and “Paddy Doyle” mingled with the music of running rigging. As the brig opened out the whitewashed fort from behind the trees, she slewed up into the wind; the report of the little brass gun on the poop rang out sharply, and the chain thundered out through the hawse-pipe.
No sooner was the anchor fairly down than the Captain commenced to spy inquisitively at the shore through his telescope, which he steadied against a shroud; nor were his observations long without result, for after about ten minutes’ spying he suddenly beckoned to me.
“Pereira’s boat has put off,” said he; “I know her by her white paint.”
“Is anyone coming with her?” I asked nervously.
“I can’t see yet—Yes I can, by Jove!—Yes, the old man’s on board; I can make out his black coat and topper.”
“No one else?”
“No, I can’t see anybody else. No, there’s only one chair in the boat, and the old man’s sitting in it.”
I drew a breath of relief.
I should have been sorry for my first meeting with Isabel to take place in public, for my position with regard to her was one of some delicacy and difficulty. That she loved me I had little doubt; but yet, since I had spoken no word to her, I could not take her love for granted, especially after so long an absence, and I looked to our first meeting to put an end to my suspense.
Bithery handed me the telescope, which I levelled at the approaching surf-boat. Already the quaint figure of my old friend was clearly distinguishable in his queer habiliments, and I could see him scrutinizing the brig with the aid of a binocular. As the boat came nearer, I leaped on to the rail and stood holding on by a backstay and waving my cap—or rather Jobling’s. He recognised me almost at once, for I saw him stand up and wave his hat in response, sitting down again with some suddenness as the boat gave a lurch.
As the surf-boat swept alongside he made a snatch at the ladder, and was on deck in a twinkling, fairly falling into my arms as he came over the rail.
“Now God be praised that I have been spared to see this day!” he exclaimed, in a voice that shook with agitation, “this blessed day that I had ceased to hope for.”
He stood, holding both my hands, while the tears chased one another down his sunken cheeks, though his face beamed with delight.
As for me, I was too much affected by the old man’s emotion and my own to be able to speak, until the skipper created a welcome diversion by loudly stigmatising the by-standing deck hands as “a pack of grinning apes,” and hustling them away forward.
“How is Isabel?” I asked, when I had recovered my composure a little.
“She is well, my dear boy, very well, thank God. Ah! and that reminds me; she must share our happiness at once. Captain, would you kindly fire the gun twice? It was to be the signal. We saw the brig come in all gay with flags, and I promised, if she brought good news, we would fire the gun once, and if our dear friend was on board, we would fire it twice. She is on the beach with the telescope now.”
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