Chapter 10 - Page 2

a smile on the disturbed visage of Desire,
which, by its doleful outline, appeared to have taken leave of all its
risible properties for ever.

"Not he, not he," exclaimed the disconsolate consort of the good-man; "he
has not the heart to get himself courageous, in loyal drinking, on such an
occasion as a merry-making on account of his Majesty's glory; he was a man
altogether for work; and it is chiefly for his hard labour that I have
reason to complain. After being so long used to rely on his toil, it is a
sore cross to a dependant woman to be thrown suddenly and altogether on
herself for support. But I'll be revenged on him, if there's law to be
found in Rhode Island, or in the Providence Plantations! Let him dare to
keep his pitiful image out of my sight the lawful time, and then, when he
returns, he shall find himself, as many a vagabond has been before him,
without wife, as he will be without house to lay his graceless head
in."[1] Then, catching a glimpse of the inquiring face of the old seaman,
who by this time had worked his way to her very side, she abruptly added,
"Here is a stranger in the place, and one who has lately arrived! Did you
meet a straggling runaway, friend, in your journey hither?"

[Footnote 1: It would seem, from this declaration, that certain legal
antiquarians, who have contended that the community is indebted to
Desire for the unceremonious manner of clipping the nuptial knot, which
is so well known to exist, even to this hour, in the community of which
she was a member, are entirely in the wrong. It evidently did not take
its rise in her example, since she clearly alludes to it, as a means
before resorted to by me injured innocents of her own sex.]

"I had too much trouble in navigating my old hulk on dry land, to log the
name and rate of every craft I fell in with," returned the other, with
infinite composure; "and yet, now you speak of such a thing, I do remember
to have come within hail of a poor fellow, just about the beginning of the
morning-watch somewhere hereaway, up in the bushes between this town and
the bit of a ferry that carries one on to the main."

"What sort of a man was he?" demanded five or six anxious voices, in a
breath; among which the tones of Desire, however, maintained their
supremacy rising above those of all the others, like the strains of a
first-rate artist flourishing a quaver above the more modest thrills of
the rest of the troupe.

"What sort of a man! Why a fellow with his arms rigged athwart ship, and
his legs stepped like those of all other Christians, to be sure: but, now
you speak of it, I remember that he had a bit of a sheep-shank in one of
his legs, and rolled a