Salt Water: The Sea Life and Adventures of Neil D'Arcy the MidshipmanKingston, William Henry Giles
General
Salt Water: The Sea Life and Adventures of Neil D'Arcy the Midshipman
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Midshipmen -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
Still, there I stood, as
yet unharmed, and I found the delay was caused by some of the party,
whose voices I could hear at a little distance, holding a consultation
in a whisper. I was hoping that they, more merciful than their leader,
were proposing not to execute his directions, when I was undeceived by
their return. One of them then addressed us.
"We give you and the youngster, Lieutenant, three minutes more to
prepare for death," said the villain, in a diabolically cold tone;
"after that, we intend to hang you over the cliff by your hands, and
when you can't gripe on any longer, you may let go. Just understand,
now, we do this in mercy to you, that you may not say we sent you out of
the world without warning. Youngster, you hear what is said, so just
make ready, for you haven't many moments of life in you."
To appeal to the mercy of the wretches was, I knew, hopeless; so I did
my best to prepare for the fate awaiting me.
"The time's up," said a voice, and I found myself urged back a few
paces, and my feet lifted over the edge of the cliff. It is impossible
to describe my sensations of horror at this moment. I was then lowered
down, every instant expecting to be let drop, till I found my hands
clutching the grass, and my nails digging into the uncertain soil which
fringed it. I judged that my uncle had been treated in the same way,
from what the smugglers said. They then left us, satisfied that we
could not release ourselves. Bad as they were, perhaps they did not
wish to witness our death, though I could hear their mocking laughter as
they quitted the spot. I was light, and I held on for dear life.
"Uncle, are you there?" I exclaimed.
"Yes, Neil, I am," he answered; "but I am afraid of using any exertion
to lift myself up, lest the earth should give way. You are light,
though; so try to drag yourself slowly up by your arms, then get your
elbows on the turf, and tear the bandage from your eyes, and come to my
assistance."
"Oh, I cannot, uncle, I cannot!" I cried, in an agony of fear; for I
found it impossible to move without almost a certainty of missing my
hold altogether. Again I tried all I could to lift myself up, but it
would not do. I shouted at the top of my voice. Every instant my
strength was failing me.
"I must let go, uncle, indeed I must," I exclaimed. "Good-bye, uncle."
"So must I, my boy," he answered. "Good-bye, if we do not succeed; but
make a final effort, and spring up. So now--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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