Porto Bello gold (eBook, ePUB)
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I was in the counting-room, talking with Peter Corlaer, the chief of our fur-traders-he was that very day come down-river from the Iroquois country-when the boy, Darby, ran in from the street. "The Bristol packet is in, Master Robert," he cried. "And, oh, sir, the watermen do say there be a pirate ship off the Hook!" I remember I laughed at the combination of awe and delight in his face. He was a raw, bog-trotting bit of a gossoon we had bought at the last landing of bonded folk, and he talked with a brogue that thickened whenever he grew excited. "For the packet, I do not doubt you, Darby," I...
I was in the counting-room, talking with Peter Corlaer, the chief of our fur-traders-he was that very day come down-river from the Iroquois country-when the boy, Darby, ran in from the street. "The Bristol packet is in, Master Robert," he cried. "And, oh, sir, the watermen do say there be a pirate ship off the Hook!" I remember I laughed at the combination of awe and delight in his face. He was a raw, bog-trotting bit of a gossoon we had bought at the last landing of bonded folk, and he talked with a brogue that thickened whenever he grew excited. "For the packet, I do not doubt you, Darby," I answered. "But you must show me the pirate." Peter Corlaer chuckled in his quiet, rumbling way, his huge belly waggling before him beneath his buckskin hunting-shirt, for all the world like a monster mold of jelly. "Ja, ja, show us der pirates," he jeered. Darby flared up in a burst of Irish temper that matched his tangled red hair.
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