Richard Carvel — Complete eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 713 pages of information about Richard Carvel — Complete.

Richard Carvel — Complete eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 713 pages of information about Richard Carvel — Complete.

Then I fell to applauding, while the captain tried on (for he was not content with holding up) another frock of white drab, which, cuffs and pockets, I’ll take my oath mounted no less than twenty-four:  another plain one of pink cut-velvet; tail-coats of silk, heavily broidered with flowers, and satin waistcoats with narrow lace.  He took an inconceivable enjoyment out of this parade, discoursing the while, like a nobleman with nothing but dress in his head, or, perhaps, like a mastercutter, about the turn of this or that lapel, the length from armpit to fold, and the number of button-holes that was proper.  And finally he exhibited with evident pride a pair of doeskins that buttoned over the calf to be worn with high shoes, which I make sure he would have tried on likewise had he been offered the slightest encouragement.  So he exploited the whole of his wardrobe, such an unlucky assortment of finery as I never wish to see again; all of which, however, became him marvellously, though I think he had looked well in anything.  I hope I may be forgiven the perjury I did that day.  I wondered greatly that such a foible should crop out in a man of otherwise sound sense and plain ability.

At length, when the last chest was shut again and locked, and I had exhausted my ingenuity at commendation, and my patience also, he turned to me as a man come out of a trance.

“Od’s fish, Mr. Carvel,” he cried, “you will be starved.  I had forgot your state.”

I owned that hunger had nigh overcome me, whereupon he became very solicitous, bade the boy bring in supper at once, and in a short time we sat down together to the best meal I had seen for a month.  It seemed like a year.  Porridge, and bacon nicely done, and duff and ale, with the sea rushing past the cabin windows as we ate, touched into colour by the setting sun.  Captain Paul did not mess with his mates, not he, and he gave me to understand that I was to share his cabin, apologizing profusely for what he was pleased to call poor fare.  He would have it that he, and not I, were receiving favour.

“My dear sir,” he said once, “you cannot know what a bit of finery is to me, who has so little chance for the wearing of it.  To discuss with a gentleman, a connoisseur (I know a bit of French, Mr. Carvel), is a pleasure I do not often come at.”

His simplicity in this touched me; it was pathetic.

“How know you I am a gentleman, Captain Paul?” I asked curiously.

“I should lack discernment, sir,” he retorted, with some heat, “if I could not see as much.  Breeding shines through sack-cloth, sir.  Besides,” he continued, in a milder tone, “the look of you is candour itself.  Though I have not greatly the advantage of you in age, I have seen many men, and I know that such a face as yours cannot lie.”

Here Mr. Lowrie, the second mate, came in with a report; and I remarked that he stood up hat in hand whilst making it, very much as if Captain Paul commanded a frigate.  The captain went to a locker and brought forth some mellow Madeira, and after the mate had taken a glass of it standing, he withdrew.  Then we lighted pipes and sat very cosey with a lanthorn swung between us, and Captain Paul expressed a wish to hear my story.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Richard Carvel — Complete from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.