Читать книгу Pitcairn's Island. Sea Adventure Novel онлайн

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“It’s your own wench, Mills! Damme if it’s not!” said Martin.

Mills’s rugged face softened. “So it is! Come out o’ that, ye little witch! What are ye doin’ here?” he called.

The girl descended to the lowest branch and perched there, out of reach, smiling down at them.

“She’s a rare lass for roamin’ the woods and mountains,” said Mills, fondly. He held out his arms. “Jump, ye little mischty!” The girl leaped and he caught her in his arms. She was dressed in a kirtle of bark cloth reaching to her knees, and her thick hair fell in a rippling mass over her bare breasts and shoulders. Mills held her off at arm’s length, gazing at her admiringly.

“Ye’ve spoke truth, John,” said Martin. “She’s a proper little witch.”

“Aye,” said McCoy, “ye’ve the prettiest lass o’ the lot. I wonder she’d come awa’ from her kinfolks and a’ with a dour old stick the like o’ yersel’.”

Mills stroked her hair with his great rough hand. “Ye’ll allow this, Will: ye’ve not seen her weepin’ her eyes out for Tahiti like some o’ the women.”