The Adventures of Dick Maitland: A Tale of Unknown Africa — John Shaqi
The Adventures of Dick Maitland: A Tale of Unknown AfricaCollingwood, Harry
General
The Adventures of Dick Maitland: A Tale of Unknown Africa
Collingwood, Harry
Adventure stories; Africa -- Juvenile fiction
At length a day arrived when Captain Roberts, having worked out his
observations for the determination of the ship's latitude and longitude,
made the welcome announcement that, if the wind held and all went well,
the passengers, by this time thoroughly weary of the--to most of them--
changeless monotony of sea and sky, might hope to feast their eyes upon
the glowing picture of a South African landscape within the ensuing
twenty-four hours; and at once everybody became cheerfully busy upon the
task of packing up in preparation for the joyous moment when they might
exchange the eternal movement of the rocking deck for terra firma, and
rejoice once more in the sight of trees and grass and flowers, of busy
streets, and of the much-talked-of beauties of suburban Berea. Dick
Maitland's possessions were so few that they needed very little packing
to prepare them for transit from ship to shore, and when he had finished
he adjourned to Grosvenor's cabin to assist that gentleman, who, since
dispensing with the services of a valet, seemed quite incapable of
replacing his possessions in the receptacles from which he had taken
them upon the beginning of the voyage. The remainder of the day was
passed in the animated discussion of future plans and arrangements,
while one effect of the imminent termination of the long ocean voyage
was the sudden development of an amazing access of cordiality between
people who had hitherto manifested but little interest in each other,
accompanied by pressing invitations to "come and stay a few days at my
place whenever you happen to be in the neighbourhood". Also a few of
the more enthusiastic occupants of the cuddy remained on deck until
midnight, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the Bluff light before
turning in, only to retire to their cabins, discontented and grumbling,
because at eight bells the gleam still obstinately refused to appear on
the horizon over the port bow, where Mr Sutcliffe, the chief mate, had
been anxiously watching for it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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