The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and Four — John Shaqi
The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and FourStrang, Herbert
History
The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and Four
Strang, Herbert
Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Juvenile fiction; Smugglers -- Juvenile fiction
Dick stuck the lighted candle into the band of his hat, stepped out of
the boat, and began to climb, Sam watching his progress and offering
bits of cautionary counsel. In a few seconds, when Dick’s head
projected above the anchor, he saw that the ledge of rock, extending for
some distance on both sides, was the floor of a roughly rectangular
fissure, which penetrated the earth much as the tunnel below penetrated
the cliff. It ran upwards. The smoky light from the candle did not
reach far, but Dick, peering over the ledge, was unable to see any solid
background to the fissure.
"I’ve found the opening!" he said.
"What do ’ee say?" called Sam. "Yer voice sounds all a mumble and a
rumble."
Clinging firmly to the ledge with both hands, Dick lowered his head and
repeated the words.
"Now yer satisfied, then," said Sam. "Better come down afore the candle
goes out."
"No. I’m going on."
"But chok’ it all, you won’t leave me all alone! I’m not afeard, not I;
but if there be three or four seals a-comin’ home by-and-by, I can’t
fight ’em all."
"You must come up too when I’ve looked a little farther."
"But you can’t climb on to the ledge without summat to hold to. Maister
Dick, think of yer feyther and mother, and what I’m to say if ’ee falls
and breaks yer neck, and I take ’ee home a gashly corp."
"Don’t talk rubbish. I shan’t fall if you don’t worry me. I’m not
going to sit for hours longer in the boat till the tide goes down, so
hold your tongue till I am safe aloft."
Leaning well forward, he carefully lifted his foot to the next rung,
then to the next, watching the anchor to see that it was not displaced
by his movements. Then he got one knee on the rocky shelf, stretched
his arms in front of him, and with a sudden movement heaved his body on
to the ledge and fell flat, his feet projecting into space. He crawled
along on hands and knees until his boots disappeared from Sam’s view,
and stood up within the dark entrance of the fissure.
"I’m up, Sam," he called, his voice reverberating hollowly in the vault.
"Then I be comin’ too," cried the boy.
"Not yet. You must wait a little until I see where the opening leads
to. I’ll come back for you presently."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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