"Capital!" says the captain, sitting down (the old fellow was
puffing not a little). "Capital! That was a settler, eh, my boy?
Now you can get up and talk sense."
I got up, rubbing my cheek, and grinning a rueful smile, as the
captain told me. We remained long in talk; never had my old friend
been wiser or more kindly. He listened to me with patience as I
told him--quietly, for he had fairly knocked my rage out of me--how
desperately sick I was of my occupation, and how I longed to
stretch my limbs and do something.
"I knew it, my boy," he said. "I had seen it coming. I understand
it. Haven't I been through it myself? I was bred for commerce: you
might as well have harnessed a pig. One day--I was younger than
you-I took French leave and a crown piece and trudged to London. I
enlisted in old Noll's army, shipped to Flanders and served under
Lockhart--he was a man, sir!--at the siege of Cambrai, deserted
when the campaign was at an end, and roamed over half Europe; took
service with the Emperor; fought with the Swedes against the Poles,
and the Poles against the Swedes; fell in with Patrick Gordon, and
was beguiled by him to Muscovy; and should have been with the Czar
Peter at this day if he hadn't called me a fool when he was sober;
we paid no heed to what he called us when he was drunk.
"Ah! I see your eyes glistening, you young dog. You were never born
to be tied up with red tape."
This brief account of his life, and he never told me more, had
indeed set my heart leaping.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76