Dutch the Diver; Or, A Man's MistakeFenn, George Manville
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Dutch the Diver; Or, A Man's Mistake
Fenn, George Manville
Adventure stories; Deep diving -- Fiction; Treasure troves -- Fiction
It was an empty sense of superstition, but it influenced them and
cheered them on through the long, sunny, scorching days as they bent to
their oars and toiled on; and in the evenings, when, taking advantage of
the soft breezes, the little sails were spread, and they crept on ever
north and east in the hope of gaining the course of one of the vessels
going south or west. But the days stole slowly by, and no sail
gladdened their sight, and at last, as the water grew low in the little
breakers and the provisions threatened to become exhausted, Dutch felt
his heart sink, and told himself with a bitter smile that they had not
yet worn out the power of the curse, if curse there were.
After long days of rowing, in which every man in the boats took part in
urging them up the sides of the long rollers and then down their
hill-like descent, the feeling of weary lassitude made itself more and
more felt. They suffered, too, from their cramped position in the
boats, but no one murmured. Even Rasp and Oakum ceased to wrangle, and
the former pursed up his wrinkled mouth and followed the example of
Oakum in whistling for a favouring wind.
At times the breeze would come, and, the sails filling, the boats sped
onwards, but the few miles they made before the wind again dropped
seemed as nothing in the immensity of the watery space around, and at
last, half-delirious with the heat, after being reduced to a few drops
of warm water each day, the sun went down like a great globe of fire,
and Dutch Pugh felt that the time had come when they must die.
A re-arrangement of the occupants of the boat had long been made, so
that both Dutch and Meldon were by those they loved, and now it seemed
that the nuptial bed of the latter would be that of death. Hope seemed
long before to have fled upon her bright wings, leaving only black
despair to brood over them like the eternal night. Hardly a word was
spoken in either boat, and once more the rope had been passed from one
to the other so that their desolate state might not become more desolate
by parting company during the night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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