Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short SketchesFenn, George Manville
General
Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short Sketches
Fenn, George Manville
Fiction; Short stories
The ropes were arranged, and directly after I was again descending; and
this time the dread did not seem so oppressive, for I did not feel such
horror of the mephitic gas at the bottom, since it seemed to me that the
excitement--the state of my nerves--sustained me, and I shouted to them
to lower faster.
On reaching the bottom, the man had not moved his position, and without
leaving the bucket, to whose rope I had bound myself with a silk
handkerchief I slipped off the noose again, and secured it round the
other's body.
The same glassy, dull stare--the same immobility of countenance--the
same corpse-like aspect as seen in the gloom, and then, with a cry of
wild joy, I shrieked--"Up; up;" but it seemed as though we should never
reach the surface as we swung and spun about, and once, to my horror, I
saw the rope was slipping over the man's shoulders; and it was only by
clasping him tightly in my arms I saved him from falling.
Daylight and willing hands at length; and then I staggered as I was
unfastened, and all seemed to swim round as I fainted away.
On coming to I found myself on the grass by the side of the two men, who
were alive, as I could hear by their stertorous breathing. Kneeling by
me was old Dr Scott, looking up at Brown, who had evidently just
spoken.
"Mephitic air, sir," said the doctor, "pooh; as drunk as Pharaoh's sow!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The well was finally cleaned out, and the recovered watch as well;
while, by way of consolation for my misapplied energy, I could
congratulate myself upon the discovery of a hidden vein of philanthropy
in my constitution.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
ON THE GREAT DEEP.
The creaking and groaning of the timbers, the tossing and plunging of
the ship, and the heavy beating of the waves upon her sides, tended to
drive away sleep, without the accessories of pale and anxious faces,
wringing hands, and here and there a kneeling form and supplicating
murmur. Now and then came a heavy crash, and the good ship shook and
quivered beneath the tons of water poured sweeping along the deck; and
once the news was somehow circulated among the helpless passengers, that
three of the sailors had been swept overboard, and that the life-buoy,
with its blazing light, had been cut adrift, when as it floated away, a
man was seen clinging to it, with the glare shining upon his pale and
agonised face. And we knew that it was but to prolong his torture, for
in such a storm no boat could go to his aid--that he would cling there
for a while, and then would come the end.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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