The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story
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Westerman Percy Francis. The Third Officer: A Present-day Pirate Story
CHAPTER I. The S.S. "Donibristle"
CHAPTER II. Hilda Vivian
CHAPTER III "Heave-to or I'll Sink You"
CHAPTER IV. Under Fire
CHAPTER V. Captured
CHAPTER VI. Under Hatches
CHAPTER VII. Ramon Porfirio
CHAPTER VIII. The Compound
CHAPTER IX. The First Day on the Island
CHAPTER X. Investigations
CHAPTER XI. A Fight to a Finish
CHAPTER XII. Plans
CHAPTER XIII "Getting on with It"
CHAPTER XIV. The Vigil on the Cliffs
CHAPTER XV. How Minalto Fared
CHAPTER XVI. Captain Consett's Report
CHAPTER XVII. The Scuttling of the "Donibristle"
CHAPTER XVIII. Successful so Far
CHAPTER XIX. A Dash for Freedom
CHAPTER XX. The Voyage
CHAPTER XXI. The Castaways
CHAPTER XXII. Making the Best of It
CHAPTER XXIII. Where the Pig Went
CHAPTER XXIV. The Cave proves Useful
CHAPTER XXV. The Tables Turned
CHAPTER XXVI. The Fate of Ah Ling
CHAPTER XXVII. Farewell to Swan Island
CHAPTER XXVIII. The "Titania"
CHAPTER XXIX. The Admiral's Promise
CHAPTER XXX. The End of the "Malfilio"
CHAPTER XXXI. The Capture of the Secret Base
CHAPTER XXXII. And Last
Отрывок из книги
At daybreak, in a strong off-shore wind, thick with snow, the S.S. Donibristle cast off and proceeded on her voyage. By noon, working up to eleven knots, she had passed through the broad strait of San Juan de Fuca – the waterway between Vancouver Island and the Federal State of Washington – and was rolling heavily in the following seas.
During his watch on the bridge Alwyn Burgoyne saw nothing of the passengers. Certainly it was not the kind of weather in which landsmen venture on deck. The whole aspect was a study in greys. The sea, as far as the driving snow permitted to be seen, was a waste of leaden-coloured waves flecked with tumbling grey crests. Overhead a watery sun almost failed to make its presence known through the sombre swiftly-moving clouds. Everything on deck was snow-covered, while wisps of steam mingled with an eddying volume of smoke from the salt-rimed funnels.
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Twenty minutes later a signalman conveying a message to the commander found him unconscious. The oxygen-destroying properties of the pyrene had not only extinguished the fire, but had been within an ace of suffocating the occupant of the cabin. Fortunately the commander recovered. The culprits were discovered, but their victim, convinced that it had not been their intention to drive matters to extremes, accepted their apologies and regrets. But the case did not end there. The Admiralty got to hear of it, and Branscombe and two of his fellow-midshipmen were summarily dismissed.
"That's what I did in the Great War, Miss Vivian," said Branscombe at the end of his recital. "You see, I wasn't one of the lucky ones. This ship saw some service. She was armed with six 4.7's, and made fourteen double trips across the Atlantic. Angus, our Chief Engineer, was on board her part of the time. He might tell you some yarns if you get the right side of him. Once we had some Yanks on board, and one of them asked him the same question that you asked me about what he did in the Great War. Angus simply looked straight at him. 'Ma bit', he replied."
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