United States or Morocco ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He could see that boat crowded with men, men in uniform, and he could see that each man carried a carbine. He could also see that it would surely cut across the bow of his own steamer. A moment later he knew that Tankred himself had seen this, for high above the crack and whine of the shooting and the tumult of voices he could now hear Tankred's blasphemous shouts.
We 've got a half-hour's hard work ahead of us yet!" As Blake leaned over the rail again, watching and listening, he began to realize that the work was indeed hard, that there was some excuse for Tankred's ill-temper. Most men, he acknowledged, would feel the strain, where one misstep or one small mistake might undo the work of months.
"You 're going to take me to Guayaquil," repeated Blake. "That's where you 're dead wrong," was the calmly insolent rejoinder. "I ain't even goin' to Guayaquil." "I say you are." Tankred's smile translated his earlier deliberateness into open contempt. "You seem to forget that this here town you 're heefin' about lies a good thirty-five miles up the Guayas River.
For by this time the patrol-boat with the carbineers had reached the steamer's side and a boarding-ladder had been thrown across her quarter. And Blake began to comprehend that he was in the most undesirable of situations. He could hear the repeated clang of the engine-room telegraph and Tankred's frenzied and ineffectual bellow of "Full steam ahead! For the love o' Christ, full ahead down there!"
Word Of The Day