The Log of the Flying Fish: A Story of Aerial and Submarine Peril and AdventureCollingwood, Harry
Science
The Log of the Flying Fish: A Story of Aerial and Submarine Peril and Adventure
Collingwood, Harry
Adventure stories; Sea stories
"Thank God, we have saved her, I believe," ejaculated Sir Reginald, in a
whisper, to the professor. "Now, doctor, I will retire and leave you to
complete her restoration, so that the poor girl may be spared
embarrassment as far as possible on the full recovery of consciousness.
But I shall establish myself outside the door of the state-room, within
easy reach of your voice should you need anything; and do not forget
that the whole resources of the ship are at your absolute disposal."
"All right," answered the professor. "Now go, for the patient is coming
to herself rapidly."
Half an hour later von Schalckenberg crept out on tiptoe, his kindly
face beaming and his eyes sparkling with exultation.
"It is all right," he whispered in his broadest German-English. "I have
fully restored the circulation, and the young patient is now in a sound
sleep, from which she must not be disturbed on any account. I shall
keep watch by her side, and when she awakes you shall all be duly
informed of the circumstance. You may now go about your business, my
good friend, your services are no longer required here."
The worthy professor kept sedulous watch over his patient until
satisfied that she was completely out of danger, presenting her to his
companions only when they assembled in the saloon for dinner some four-
and-twenty hours after the catastrophe which had thrown her into their
society.
The colonel and Mildmay were stricken absolutely, though only
temporarily, dumb with astonishment and admiration at the vision of
remarkable beauty which met their gaze as the saloon door opened, and
von Schalckenberg, stepping hastily forward with a most courtly bow, met
the fair stranger at the threshold, taking her hand and leading her
forward into the apartment preliminary to the ceremony of introduction.
Even Sir Reginald, though he had not failed to notice the beauty of the
pale and apparently lifeless girl he had raised from the wet deck and
borne so carefully below on the preceding evening, was startled at her
radiant loveliness as she, somewhat shrinkingly and with a momentary
vivid blush, responded to the introductions and congratulatory greetings
which immediately followed. All night long, and throughout the day, she
had been haunted by the dreamy recollection of another face than that of
the kindly professor who had so assiduously nursed her back to life--a
bronzed handsome face, with tender pitiful blue eyes, close-cut auburn
hair clustering wavily about the small shapely head, and luxuriant
auburn moustache and beard, bending anxiously over her as she lay weak,
helpless, suffering, and with the feebly-returning consciousness of
having recently experienced some terrible calamity; of having passed
through some awful and harrowing ordeal; and now, as she gave her hand
to Sir Reginald, and shyly glanced up into his handsome face and read
the tender sympathy for her expressed by the kindly blue eyes, she
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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