Washed Ashore | Page 6

tables, and in drawers. It
was a workshop, a museum, a laboratory, a model room, a library, a
dressing-room in one. Here he sat at work for a large portion of each
day, but not often alone, as his wife, or daughter, or Tom Bowlby was
constantly with him. In two or three points the captain had changed
somewhat of late years. He lived less for himself and more for others
than formerly. He took delight in going out among the fishermen and
cottagers in the neighbourhood, with his Bible in hand, or with some
book on religion, and in reading and explaining the Scriptures. He was
also engaged in making the model of a lifeboat, and inventing other
apparatus for saving life.
He had likewise been appointed a magistrate, for the especial object of
assisting the revenue officers in putting down smuggling, which it was
found difficult to do without a strong force of coastguards on shore and
numerous cutters afloat. He most unwillingly undertook the office, but
having taken it, set about doing his duty, as he was accustomed to do
everything, thoroughly. This of course made him enemies among those
he had hitherto looked upon as his friends; still, all but the worst
characters acknowledged that the captain was an upright man, and that
whatever he did, he would take no undue advantage of them.

Captain Askew sat in his room--the captain's room. It was known by no
other name. He was a strongly-built man, with a fine open countenance,
florid, or rather sunburnt, with blue eyes--Margery's were like them--
and hair sprinkled thickly with frost. The loss of his leg had prevented
him from taking much rapid exercise, and he had grown slightly stout
in consequence, but he was still hale and active. Margery stood by his
side watching his proceedings, and occasionally, when required,
helping him in his work.
They were interrupted by Becky Bott, who put her head in at the door,
saying, "Please, there's young master Stephen Ludlow a come to see
you, Miss Margery, with a book he says." Having delivered her
message, Becky popped her head out of the room.
"I don't like that Stephen Ludlow, father, and I wish that he wouldn't
come here as he does," exclaimed Margery, pouting. "He never cared
for dear Jack, and he has no right to come here, with his proud manners,
sneering at everything, and thinking himself the most important person
in all the country round."
"He is our landlord's son, little daughter, and it is our duty to treat him
with attention," answered the captain. "I have not found his manner
un-courteous, though, being an only son, he possibly is spoilt a little at
home."
"He is spoilt a great deal, I suspect," cried Margery tossing her head in
scorn.
"Well, well, ask him if he has a mind to stop to dinner, then tell him
that you are engaged with me, and come back here," said the captain;
"he will find means of amusing himself in the meantime."
Margery found Stephen in the sitting-room. He was a pale-faced boy,
with irresolution marked on every lineament of his countenance; the
curl of his lip, and a frown marked on his brow, were not pleasant traits.
"I have brought this book for you, Margery, as I thought you would like
it if you have never read it," he said, presenting a good thick volume,
with a somewhat awkward manner.

Margery took it coldly, saying, "Thank you, I'll try and read it, but I
have not much time to read by myself, as papa likes to be read to, and
so does mamma of an evening when she is at work. Oh! by the by, I am
to ask you to stop and dine, dinner will soon be ready, and you can
amuse yourself in the meantime on the beach. As I think of it, it is
really a pity that you should leave the book, I may never look into it."
"Oh! but this book is not like any other, it is full of adventure. All about
a man living on a desert island, with a black called Friday, for I don't
know how many years. If it isn't true, it ought to be, and so you'd better
read it," said the boy, pressing the book on her.
Margery had become interested with the description of the work, and
no longer refused to take it. She thanked Stephen more graciously than
before, and, taking the book with her, hurried back to her father.
Stephen was satisfied; he liked Margery and the captain, and Mrs
Askew, better than most people, next to himself, and he thought that he
could pass the hour till dinner-time to his satisfaction on the beach, in
picking up shells and other