The Romance of Gilbert Holmes: An Historical NovelKirkman, Marshall M. (Marshall Monroe)
General
The Romance of Gilbert Holmes: An Historical Novel
Kirkman, Marshall M. (Marshall Monroe)
Black Hawk War, 1832 -- Fiction
As we backed into the stream, the Northern Light preceded us, and
reaching the channel, took the opposite side, and doing so slowed down
her engines. Surely invitation was never more plainly or courteously
given! Now at last they were going to see which was the better boat,
and fairly, as such things should be. Mounting to the top of the
pilot-house, a thing most unusual with him, Captain McGonnigle signaled
to put on all steam; and even as he gave the order great clouds of black
smoke, changing soon to gray, belched forth from the towering stacks of
the War Eagle. Nor was it long before the heightened roar of the
exhaust told him his summons had been effective, and that the Northern
Light would not find us lagging in the race. Thus in a few moments we
found ourselves in the channel, the Northern Light, with her wheels
slowly turning, awaiting our coming, as if not desiring advantage of any
kind. Seeing this, Captain McGonnigle smiled and raised his cap to the
other captain in graceful recognition of his fairness. With this
friendly act, however, all intercourse between them ceased, for it was
not a question of courtesy now, but of supremacy, in which the good name
of the War Eagle hung trembling in the balance. Squaring himself and
looking forward, Captain McGonnigle became from this time on lost to
everything save the windings of the channel and the movements of the two
boats. Straightway as they shot ahead a stillness as of death took
possession of all on board, for in the hearts of the most hopeful there
could not but be a doubt as to which would prove the faster now that the
struggle was fairly on. As the vessels gained in speed, the water,
already tipped with white-caps, flew high above their prows, spraying
the decks and those who stood watching as with a falling shower.
Behind, it tossed and foamed, white and glistening, like an angry
cataract, as far as the eye could see in the gathering night. High
above the swash of the wheels and the noise of the escaping steam, and
as if in emphasis, the sharp clang of the bells could be plainly heard
as the captains called for sharper fires. Scarce would one cease to
vibrate than the other would take it up, and this with angry vehemence,
as if the previous summons had been neglected or only half fulfilled.
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.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account