The Merry Men, and Other Tales and FablesStevenson, Robert Louis
History
The Merry Men, and Other Tales and Fables
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Boys -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Paranormal fiction; Treasure troves -- Fiction
It was perhaps eight o’clock when Rorie came in and pulled me
mysteriously to the door. My uncle, it appeared, had frightened even
his constant comrade; and Rorie, uneasy at his extravagance, prayed me
to come out and share the watch. I hastened to do as I was asked; the
more readily as, what with fear and horror, and the electrical tension
of the night, I was myself restless and disposed for action. I told
Mary to be under no alarm, for I should be a safeguard on her father;
and wrapping myself warmly in a plaid, I followed Rorie into the open
air.
The night, though we were so little past midsummer, was as dark as
January. Intervals of a groping twilight alternated with spells of
utter blackness; and it was impossible to trace the reason of these
changes in the flying horror of the sky. The wind blew the breath out
of a man’s nostrils; all heaven seemed to thunder overhead like one
huge sail; and when there fell a momentary lull on Aros, we could hear
the gusts dismally sweeping in the distance. Over all the lowlands of
the Ross, the wind must have blown as fierce as on the open sea; and
God only knows the uproar that was raging around the head of Ben Kyaw.
Sheets of mingled spray and rain were driven in our faces. All round
the isle of Aros the surf, with an incessant, hammering thunder, beat
upon the reefs and beaches. Now louder in one place, now lower in
another, like the combinations of orchestral music, the constant mass
of sound was hardly varied for a moment. And loud above all this
hurly-burly I could hear the changeful voices of the Roost and the
intermittent roaring of the Merry Men. At that hour, there flashed into
my mind the reason of the name that they were called. For the noise of
them seemed almost mirthful, as it out-topped the other noises of the
night; or if not mirthful, yet instinct with a portentous joviality.
Nay, and it seemed even human. As when savage men have drunk away their
reason, and, discarding speech, bawl together in their madness by the
hour; so, to my ears, these deadly breakers shouted by Aros in the
night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account