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
"Well, you can't help it now, sir, any more than you can the Pug; but if
it had been me I should have called myself Drayson."
"And seemed ashamed of the name my dear old father gave me, Rasp! No,
I'm not the man for that," said Dutch, warmly.
"No, sir, you ain't," said Rasp, in a more respectful tone, as he looked
at the colour flaming up in the younger man's cheeks, and in his heart
of hearts acknowledged that he was not such a bad-looking fellow after
all; for, though far from handsome, he was bold, bluff, and Saxon of
aspect, broad-shouldered, and evidently Herculean in strength, though,
from his deep build and fine proportions, in no wise heavy.
Now, on the other hand, Rasp was a decidedly plain man, rough, rugged,
grizzled, and with eyebrows and whiskers of the raggedest nature
possible. Their peculiar bristly quality was partaken of also by his
hair, which, though cut short, was abundant; and though you might have
brushed it to your heart's content, it was as obstinate as its owner,
for it never lay in any direction but that it liked.
At this point Rasp, who was a favoured old servant of the firm in which
Dutch Pugh held a confidential post, made another attempt to stoke the
fire, was turned on his flank, and retreated, leaving the young man to
busily resume the drawing of a plan for some piece of machinery.
It was a dark, gloomy-looking room, that in which he worked, for the one
window opened upon the narrow street of the busy sea-port of Ramwich;
and a heavy, yellow fog hung over the town, and made the office look
gloomy and full of shadow.
The place was fitted up as a private office, and near the window was
placed one of those great double-sloped desks, so arranged that four
people could stand, or sit upon the high leather-covered stools, and
write at it at the same time. A wide level divided the two slopes, and
this was dominated by brass rails, beneath which stood a couple of those
broad, flat, pewter inkstands common in commercial offices, and which in
this case it was Rasp's delight to keep clean.
There were other objects about the gloomy office, though, upon which
Rasp bestowed his time; for in three places, fitted on stands, and
strapped to the wall to prevent their falling forward, were what looked
at first sight, as they peered from the gloom, like so many suits of
grotesque armour; for what light there was gleamed from the huge
polished helmets, with their great brass, latticed goggle glass eyes--
whose crests were tubes, and ornamentation glistening rims and studs of
copper. A nervous person coming upon them in the dark might easily have
been startled, for, with a certain grim idea of humour, Rasp had by
degrees so arranged them that they leaned forward in peculiarly
life-like positions--the hand of one holding a copper lantern, another
being in the act of striking with a massive hatchet, and the third
poising a huge crowbar in a menacing mode.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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