Denis Dent. E. W. Hornung

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Denis Dent - E. W. Hornung


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       E. W. Hornung

      Denis Dent

      A Novel

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066220365

       CHAPTER I THE SECOND OFFICER

       CHAPTER II SAUVE QUI PEUT

       CHAPTER III THE CASTAWAYS

       CHAPTER IV LOST AND FOUND

       CHAPTER V A TOUCH OF FEVER

       CHAPTER VI NEW CONDITIONS

       CHAPTER VII DENIS AND NAN

       CHAPTER VIII COLD WATER

       CHAPTER IX THE CANVAS CITY

       CHAPTER X THIEVES IN THE NIGHT

       CHAPTER XI STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

       CHAPTER XII EL DORADO

       CHAPTER XIII THE ENEMY'S CAMP

       CHAPTER XIV THE FIRST CLAIM

       CHAPTER XV A PIOUS FRAUD

       CHAPTER XVI A WINDFALL

       CHAPTER XVII HATE AND MONEY

       CHAPTER XVIII ROTTEN GULLY

       CHAPTER XIX NEW BLOOD

       CHAPTER XX THE JEWELER'S SHOP

       CHAPTER XXI THE COURIER OF DEATH

       CHAPTER XXII ATRA CURA

       CHAPTER XXIII BROKEN OFF

       CHAPTER XXIV DEATH'S DOOR

       CHAPTER XXV BEAT OF DRUM

       CHAPTER XXVI HOMEWARD BOUND

       CHAPTER XXVII THE GREAT GULF

       CHAPTER XXVIII NEWS OF BATTLE

       CHAPTER XXIX GUY FAWKES DAY

       CHAPTER XXX THE SANDBAG BATTERY

       CHAPTER XXXI TIME'S WHIRLIGIG

       THE SECOND OFFICER

       Table of Contents

      "Land ahead!"

      The North Foreland had been made advisedly snug for the night. In the middle watch she was under her three lower topsails and fore topmast staysail only. Not that it blew very hard, but the night was dark and hazy, with a heavy swell. And it was the last night of the voyage.

      At eight bells there had been a cast of the deep-sea lead, with the significant result that the skipper had been the first to turn in; gradually the excited passengers had followed his example, instead of staying on deck to see the Otway light. The second mate had said there would be no Otway that night, and what the second said was good enough for most. The saloon skylight had become a clean-edged glimmer in the middle of the poop, the binnacle a fallen moon; not a port-hole twinkled on the rushing ink; and the surviving topsails, without visible stitch or stick aloft or alow, hovered over the ship like gigantic bats.

      Four persons remained upon the poop: the middy of the watch, tantalized by muffled guffaws from the midshipmen's berth in the after-house; the man at the wheel, in eclipse above the belt, with the binnacle light upon one weather-beaten hand; and on the weather side, the second mate in reluctant conversation with a big cigar that glowed at intervals into a bearded and spectacled face, the smooth brown one of the young officer sharing the momentary illumination.

      "It's all very well," said the senior man, in low persistent tones, "but if we don't have it out now, when are we to? You know what it will be like to-morrow: we shall land first thing, and you'll be the busiest man on board. As for the rules of the ship, if an owner can't use his discretion he might as well travel by some other line."

      The young fellow was smiling pleasantly as the other puffed again.

      "Very good, Mr. Merridew! I don't object if the captain doesn't; and of course I must tell you anything you want to know."

      "Anything! My good young man, if I am to consider this matter for a moment (which I don't promise) I must at least know everything that you can tell me about yourself first; for what," continued Mr. Merridew, taking the cigar from his teeth, "what do you suppose I know about you at this moment? Absolutely nothing except that you seem to be a first-class sailor, as they tell me you are, and a very nice fellow, as I have found you for myself—aboardship; but of your shore-going record, of your position in life at home, and of your people and their position, to speak quite plainly, I know nothing at all."

      Mr. Merridew delivered himself with a certain dispassionate unction, as one who could do the judicial to a turn, and enjoy it. Yet his tone was kindly, and the periods free from wilful offense.

      "You may make your mind easy about my people. I have none," said the sailor, bitterly. A fatherly hand found his shoulder on


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