The Buccaneer Farmer

The Buccaneer Farmer

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Buccaneer Farmer, by Harold Bindloss This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Buccaneer Farmer Published In England Under The Title "Askew's Victory"
Author: Harold Bindloss
Release Date: February 4, 2004 [EBook #10930]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE BUCCANEER FARMER
BY HAROLD BINDLOSS
1918
PUBLISHED IN ENGLAND UNDER THE TITLE "ASKEW'S VICTORY"

CONTENTS

PART I--AT ASHNESS

CHAPTER
I THE LEASE
II THE OTTER HOUNDS
III A COUNCIL OF DEFENSE
IV THE PEAT CUTTERS
V RAILTON'S TALLY
VI BLEATARN GHYLL
VII THE RECKONING
VIII GRACE FINDS A WAY
IX THE PLAN WORKS
X JANET MEDDLES
XI OSBORN'S PRIDE GETS HURT
XII OSBORN INTERFERES

PART II--ON THE CARIBBEAN
I THE OLD BUCCANEER
II THE PRESIDIO
III THE GOLD ONZA
IV THE PRESIDENT'S BALL
V OLSEN'S OFFER
VI THE PRESIDENT'S WATCHERS
VII ADAM RESUMES CONTROL
VIII THE MANGROVE SWAMP
IX ADAM'S LAST REQUEST
X THE ROAD TO THE MISSION
XI KIT KEEPS HIS PROMISE
XII THE LAST CARGO

PART III--KIT'S RETURN
I KIT'S WELCOME
II A DANGEROUS TALENT
III THE HORSE SHOW
IV THE FLOOD
V KIT TELLS A STORY
VI THORN MAKES A PLAN
VII GERALD'S RETURN
VIII GRACE'S CONFIDENCE
IX KIT GOES TO THE RESCUE
X GRACE'S CHOICE
XI OSBORN'S SURRENDER

PART I--AT ASHNESS

CHAPTER I
THE LEASE
The morning was bright after heavy rain, and when Osborn looked out of the library window a warm, south-west breeze shook the larches about Tarnside Hall. Now and then a shadow sped across the tarn, darkening the ripples that sparkled like silver when the cloud drove on. Osborn frowned, for he had meant to go fishing and it was a morning when the big, shy trout would rise. His game-keeper was waiting at the boathouse, but the postman had brought some letters that made him put off his sport.
This was annoying, because Osborn hated to be balked and seldom allowed anything to interfere with his amusements. One letter, from a housemaster at a famous public school, covered a number of bills, which, the writer stated somewhat curtly, ought to have been paid. Another announced that Hayes, the agent for the estate, and a tenant would wait upon Osborn, who knew what they meant to talk about. He admitted that a landlord had duties, but his generally demanded attention at an inconvenient time.
Osborn was fifty years of age. He had a ruddy skin and well-proportioned figure, and was, physically, a rather fine example of the sporting country gentleman. For all that, there were lines on his forehead and wrinkles about his eyes; his mouth was loose and sensual, and something about him hinted at indulgence. His manner, as a rule, was abrupt and often overbearing.
The library was spacious, the furniture in good taste but getting shabby. In fact, a certain look of age and shabbiness was typical of the house. Although the windows were open, the room had a damp smell, and the rows of books that Osborn never read were touched with mildew. Rain was plentiful in the north-country dale, coal was dear, and Mrs. Osborn was forced to study economy, partly because her husband would not.
By and by Osborn turned his glance from the window and fixed it on his son, who stood waiting across the big oak table. Gerald was a handsome lad, like his father, but marked by a certain refinement and a hint of delicacy. Although he felt anxious, his pose was free and graceful and his look undisturbed. Osborn threw the bills on the table.
"This kind of thing must stop," he said. "I haven't grumbled much, perhaps not as much as I ought, about your extravagance, but only a fool imagines he can spend more than he has got."
"We have had such fools in our family," the boy remarked, and stopped when he saw Osborn's color rise.
"It's a pity it's true," the latter agreed, with a patience he did not often use. "I'm paying for it now and you will pay a higher price, if you go on as you promise. You must pull up; I've done enough and am getting tired of self-denial."
Gerald's smile faded. He had inherited his extravagance from his father, but felt he must be cautious, although Osborn sometimes showed him a forbearance he used to nobody else.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "Perhaps I was extravagant, but if you don't want to be an outsider, you must do like the rest, and I understood you expected me to make friends among our own set. We can't be shabby."
He struck the right note, for Osborn was not clever and perhaps his strongest characteristic was his exaggerated family pride.
"You had enough and I paid your debts not long since," he said. "In fact, you have had more than