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Williamson was already in a berth, sound asleep. “It would be a fine night if there was a moon,” Eph remarked to the marine sentry on deck. “Yes, sir.” The marine—“soldier, and sailor, too”—not being there for conversational purposes, continued his slow pacing, his rifle resting over his right shoulder. As Eph strolled about in the limited space of the platform deck he heard a distant creaking.
Why don't you run home and play draughts with Bertie?" "Because I'm not what you take me for!" Dot suddenly laid trembling hands on the creaking leather and faced him with all her courage. "I can't help what you think of me," she said rather breathlessly. "But I'm not going to leave you here by yourself. You may be as furious as you like. I simply won't!"
It seemed three hours at the least before the ranger snapped up his watch, stepped down from the barrel, walked backwards, still covering us with his weapon, to the door behind him, and then passed rapidly through it. We heard the creaking of the rusty lock, and the clatter of his horse's hoofs, as he galloped away.
Only the creaking of the scattered cobblestones is heard, dying away in the misty air. Dan, who has taken a rest, is playing again; he is telling God about those who have perished at sea. The night is growing darker. Neither the rock nor the castle is visible now; only the light in the window is redder and brighter. The dull thuds of the tireless breakers are telling the story of different lives.
It was a town sleeping peacefully, and yet with every hint of warlike preparation that scattered itself along the river. In front of the officers' quarters a sentry clanked up and down the pavement. From the military jail came a sound of voices and the creaking of benches, as the guard turned on the hard bamboo seats, mingled also with a steady tramp.
The night's silence was broken by a multitude of sounds the laboured breathing of the spent bronco, the saddle creaking as the dripping flanks rose and fell, the touch of wind in the tree-tops and the chorusing of the myriad tree-toads.
"Ah don't want to kill that little man," said Hassan Ah. "But Ah'll give you the dog, win or lose, if you'll fight me. You fight fair? You fight English?" "Well, I'm damned!" said Crothers. "I fight Queensberry rules. That suit you?" "Oh-ah, yes! Keensby rules, that's it. All right-o!" Hassan Ah produced his key and turned it in the creaking lock.
Amidst the shouting and cursing of the native voor-loopers and the Boer and Kaffir drivers, the rain of blows on tortured, struggling bodies, and the creaking of the teak-built waggon-frames, he only heard her weakly asking to be buried properly in some churchyard, or cemetery, with a clergyman to read the Service for the Dead.
Someone had quietly raised the trap. Cutting through the blackness like a scimitar shone a ray of light from above, widening as it descended and ending in a white patch on the floor. It was moved to and fro. Then it disappeared. Another vague creaking sound followed that caused by a man's weight being imposed upon a wooden framework. Finally came a thud on the bare boards of the floor.
During all this painful period the air was regularly supplied; but the efforts of those on the lighter had not been able to raise us further. In the midst of Vanderhoek's ravings, I thought I heard a sound above, unlike that of the apparatus by which the bell was wrought. It was a creaking, crashing sound, as if the bell were forcing up some heavy piece of wood with which it was encumbered.
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