Explore "Wyndham's Pal" by Harold Bindloss on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
_Columbine_'s gig rubbed against the landing steps and Wyndham and Marston lounged about the end of the mole. The sun had sunk behind a high, black range and the land-breeze had begun to blow in gentle gusts that crisped the greasy water and dropped again. When the crew were trimming ballast in the hold, a man shouted that some chain Wyndham had ordered had arrived, and he and Marston pulled the gig to the steps. After putting the chain on board, they strolled to the town, where they drank a glass of wine and bought a newspaper; and then went back to the mole. For the last few nights they had slept on board, but it was early in the evening and the top of the wall was cooler than the deck of the yacht. Besides, a Spanish liner was steering for the port and they waited to watch her passengers land.
Presently Wyndham looked up from the newspaper. "It's lucky we bought the _Diario_. It declares the report that the Sta Catalina mission was recently plundered is not confirmed."