Читать книгу The Daughter of a Soldier: A Colleen of South Ireland онлайн

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If there was a town which was unlike any other town that was ever built, it was Kingsala by the sea. Kingsala had a land-locked harbour and an outer harbour beyond that, and beyond that again the mighty Atlantic with its rolling waves; and nothing between it and America. Kingsala lived for itself. It had in especial its World's End, a part of the town much respected by the poor folk. Here the fish were put out to dry, and the little half-naked children raced about in the sunshine. They were dark-eyed, dark-browed, dark-complexioned, and it was a well-known fact that their ancestors came from Spain in the time of the Spanish Armada, when those who were saved settled down at the World's End. Here they married bonny, bright-eyed Irish girls, and from that day to this their children were dark and wild and fierce, with the blood of the Spanish mariner in their veins.

But beyond the World's End came the town. The town was most peculiar. It had no foot-paths, and was full of large and straggling houses. The principal street in the town was called Fisher Street. This led to the Stony Way on the right, and on the left to the Long Quay. There was also the Short Quay or Patrick's Quay. The houses were very capacious and even handsome, and although the street view in Fisher Street was ugly enough, the back view made up for everything, for each house, at least on the sea-side, looked out on a garden beautifully kept, with a low wall at the far end. In the centre of the wall was a little gate. Opening the gate, you went down wooden steps to where a boat was fastened. You had but to loosen the boat and step into her and float away into the land-locked harbour, or, if you liked, go farther into the outer harbour.