Shout at the Devil - Smith Wilbur (лучшие книги .TXT) 📗

"What force have we deployed against him so far?" and in answer the flag-captain picked up a wooden pointer and touched in turn the red counters that were scattered about the Indian Ocean.

"Pegasus and Renounce in the north. Eagle and Plunger sweeping the southern waters, sir."

"What further force can we spare, Henry?"

"Well, sir, Orion and Bloodhound are at Simonstown," and 4, he touched the nose of the African continent with the pointer.

"Orion that's Manderson, isn't it?" "Yes, sir."

"And who has Bloodhound?"

"Little, sir."

"Good," Sir Percy nodded with satisfaction. "A six-inch cruiser and a destroyer should be able to deal with Bkicher," and he smiled again. "Especially with a hellion like Charles Little handling the Bloodhound. I played golf with him last summer he damn nigh drove the sixteenth green at St. Andrews!"

The flag-captain glanced at the Admiral and, on the strength of the destroyer captain's reputation, decided to permit himself an inanity.

"The young ladies of Cape Town will mourn his departure, sir."

"We must hope that KapitAn zur See Otto von Kleine will mourn his arrival, "chuckled Sir Percy.

"Daddy likes you very much."

"Your father is a man of exquisite good taste," Commander the Honourable Charles Little conceded gallantly, and rolled his head to smile at the young lady who lay beside him on a rug, in the dappled shade beneath the pine trees.

"Can't you ever be serious?"

"Helen, my sweet, at times I can be deadly serious."

"Oh, You!" and his companion blushed prettily as she remembered certain of Charles's recent actions, which would make her father hastily revise his judgement.

"I value your father's good opinion, but my chief concern is that you endorse it." The girl sat up slowly and while she stared at him her hands were busy, brushing the pine needles from the glorious tangle of her hair, readjusting the fastenings of her blouse, spreading the skirts of her riding-habit to cover sweet legs clad in dark, tall polished leather boots.

She stared at Charles Little and ached with the strength of her want. It was not a sensual need she felt, but an overpowering obsession to have this man as her very own. To own him in the same way as she already owned diamonds, and furs, and silk, and horses, and peacocks, and other beautiful things.

His body sprawled out on the rug with all the unconscious grace of a reclining leopard. A secret little smile tugged at the corners of his lips and his eyelids drooped to mask the sparkle of his eyes. His recent exertions had dampened the hair that flopped forward onto his forehead.

There was something satanical about him, an air of wickedness, and

Helen decided it was the slant of the eyebrows and the way his ears lay flat against his temples, but were pointed like those of a satyr, yet they were pink and smooth as those of an infant.

"think you have devil's ears, she said, and then she blushed again, and scrambled to her feet avoiding Charles's arm that reached out for her. "Enough of that!" she giggled and ran to the thoroughbred hunter that was tied near them in the forest. "Come on, "she called as she mounted.

Charles stood up lazily and stretched. He tucked the tail of his shirt into his breeches, folded the rug on which they had lain, and went to his own horse.

At the edge of the pine forest, they checked their mounts and sat looking down over the Constantia valley.

"Isn't it beaUtiful? she said.

"It is indeed, "he agreed.

"I meant the view."

"And so she did Twice in the six days he had known her, she had led him up this mountain and Subjected him to the temptation. Below them lay six thousand acres of the richest land in all of Africa.

"When my brother Hubert was killed there was no one left to carry it on. just my sister and I and we are only girls. Poor Daddy isn't so well any more he finds it such a strain." Charles let his eyes move lazily from the great squat buttress of Table Mountain on their left, across the lush basin of vineyards below them, and then on to where the glittering-wedge of False Bay drove into the mountains.

"Doesn't the "homestead look lovely from here?" Helen drew his attention to the massive Dutch-gabled residence, with its attendant outbuildings grouped in servility behind it.

"I am truly impressed by the magnificence of the stud fee,"

Charles murmured, purposefully slurring the last two words, and the girl glanced at him in surprise, beginning to bridle.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It is truly magnificent scenery," he amended. Her persistent efforts at ensnaring him were beginning to bore Charles.

He had teased and avoided more artful huntresses.

"Charles," she whispered. "How would you like to live here. I

mean, forever?" And Charles was shocked. This little provincial had no understanding whatsoever of the rules governing the game of flirtation.

He was so shocked that he threw back his head and laughed