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Updated: June 21, 2025
You remember that. And later on, too. There was a time on board the Ferndale when the only moments of relief I knew were when I made Mr. Powell talk to me a little on the poop. You like him? Don't you?" "Excellent fellow," I said warmly. "You see him often?" "Of course. I hardly know another soul in the world. I am alone. And he has plenty of time on his hands. His aunt died a few years ago.
Others were coming down the lane between tall, blind walls, surrounding a hand-cart loaded with more bags and boxes. It was the crew of the Ferndale. They began to come on board. He scanned their faces as they passed forward filling the roomy deck with the shuffle of their footsteps and the murmur of voices, like the awakening to life of a world about to be launched into space."
"I am not supposing anything," Anthony defended himself. He just remembered hearing of the trial. He assured her that he was away from England, the second voyage of the Ferndale. He was crossing the Pacific from Australia at the time and didn't see any papers for weeks and weeks. He interrupted himself to suggest: "You had better tell him at once that you are happy."
It was gloomy weather; dead head wind, blowing quite half a gale; the Ferndale under reduced sail was stretching close-hauled across the track of the homeward bound ships, just moving through the water and no more, since there was no object in pressing her and the weather looked threatening.
Ned White thought he knew all the roads about Ferndale and the Birchlands, but on this afternoon he stumbled with his party into a perfectly strange byway. It did not seem to lead to any place in particular, but was one of those wagon roads cut through private property and public places alike, without regard to direction or terminus.
But if you will lend me eight cents, I'll pay it back as soon as I can earn it, that is, if you can wait for it. Maybe it will be quite a while before I get any more. There ain't many things a girl can do on the desert to earn money fast. In Ferndale I used to pick berries. Do you think you can wait?" "Yes, indeed, Tabitha. Climb in and we'll hurry that melon home before anyone knows it is gone."
"Mrs Anthony lighted the flare? Mrs Anthony!..." Powell explained that she was in the companion all the time. "All the time," repeated the captain. It seemed queer to Powell that instead of going himself to see the captain should ask him: "Is she there now?" Powell said, that she had gone below after the ship had passed clear of the Ferndale.
I had been waiting for his call primed with a remark which had not occurred to me till after he had gone away. "I say," I tackled him at once, "how can you be certain that Flora de Barral ever went to sea? After all, the wife of the captain of the Ferndale `the lady that mustn't be disturbed' of the old ship-keeper may not have been Flora."
"I've been expecting you in every moment to fetch away your Articles, Captain. Here they are all ready for you." And turning to a pile of agreements lying at his elbow he took up the topmost of them. From where I stood I could read the words: "Ship Ferndale" written in a large round hand on the first page. "No, Mr. Powell, they aren't ready, worse luck," says that skipper.
It had the arms of the city of Liverpool on it; I don't know why unless because the Ferndale was registered in Liverpool. It was very thick plate-glass. Anyhow, the upper part got smashed, and directly we had attended to things aloft Mr Franklin had set the carpenter to patch up the damage with some pieces of plain glass.
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