Most unfortunate it should come on
when you were crossing--most unfortunate, I vow! There's nothing so
unpleasant as sitting in damp clothes, especially if you're not
accustomed to it. My husband, now--if he puts on a shirt that hasn't
been double-aired I always know what's going to happen: it'll be
lumbago next day to a certainty. But maybe, as travellers, you're
not so susceptible. I find hotel-keepers so careless with their damp
sheets! May I ask, gentlemen, if you've come from far? You'll be
bound for Falmouth, as I guess: and so am I. You'll find much on the
way to admire. But perhaps this is not your first visit to
Cornwall?"
In this fashion she was rattling away, good soul--settling her wraps
about her and scarcely drawing breath--when Bligh slewed himself
around in his seat, and for answer treated her to a long stare.
Now, Bligh wasn't a beauty at the best of times, and he carried a
scar on his cheek that didn't improve matters by turning white when
his face was red, and red when his face was white. They say the King
stepped up to him at Court once and asked him how he came by it and
in what action. Bligh had to tell the truth--that he'd got it in the
orchard at home: he and his father were trying to catch a horse
there: the old man flung a hatchet to turn the horse and hit his boy
in the face, marking him for life.
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