Once a Week, Vol. 5 (Classic Reprint)
| Preis: | 22.95 EUR* (inkl. MWST zzgl. Versand - Preis kann jetzt höher sein!) |
| Versand: | 0.00 EUR Versandkostenfrei innerhalb von Deutschland |
| Partner: | buecher.de |
| Hersteller: | Forgotten Books (Author, Unknown) |
| Stand: | 2015-08-04 03:50:33 |
Produktbeschreibung
Excerpt from Once a Week, Vol. 5 "No, I have not," he answered. "Come, then, drink up and let´s go down," said his acquaintance. "Not for me, thank you," said Brady. "It´s raining cats, dogs, and pitchforks. Can´t you hear it?" "It won´t hurt you for a minute or two." "Not for me, thank you. I´m not going out into it, not for twenty packet boats with twenty Robert Mortimer, Esquires, and friend on board." So Mr. Robert Mortimers gentleman stayed in the comfortable shelter of the "Jolly Tars," and the other man went down to the pier alone. The storm raged through the night - the wind blew - the rain poured down. And so hour after hour rolled by till it was morning, and with the morning the storm abated. Whilst it was yet dark, but when the first faint streak of grey had appeared in the horizon, all questions were answered and doubts and misgivings put an end to, by the appearance of a bright light immediately opposite the pier. The boat was safe. Somewhat more people than usual were collected to witness the arrival of the packet; the motley assemblage of individuals whose business called them there - Post Office agents, newspaper couriers, customs´ officers, porters and loungers - was swelled by the addition of a good many persons who, alarmed by the severity of the storm, were willing to brave the elements in their eagerness to team the fate of the boat. Important news was expected by this mail; imperfect accounts and flying rumours of another savage attack on the life of Louis Philippe had readied England by the last packet, and the mail-boat now in sight was expected to bring over full information of the attempted assassination of the king. As she neared the shore, such of the spectators as had any voice left gave a feeble cheer. There was the boat safe and in port; but in such a gale it was no easy matter to bring her round to her moorings; her paddle-wheels revolved rapidly, but without producing any effect other than a mighty foam and splashing. Twice or thrice she was brought up to the pier, and drifted past, home away by the force of wind and tide; at last in a temporary lull of the storm, an effort to make her fast was attended with success; she was safely moored to the pier. In an instant all was bustle and commotion - people shouted and ran in all directions. Aroused by the noise, Amos Brady awoke from a nap he was taking before the fire in the parlour of the "Three Jolly Tars," which was situate hard by the beach, and coming down to the pier, took his station by the gangway carefully scrutinizing each passenger who left the boat. He had stood shivering at his post for some lime, until nearly everybody had landed, and the porters were busily carrying off the luggage, before be recognized the persons he sought; a lady and gentleman who were slowly ascending the gangway. They were both dressed in black; the lady wore very deep mourning as if for some near relative; she was tall and apparently young, but as she leaned heavily on the arm of her companion for support, she walked, not with the elastic tread of youth and health, but with the spiritless step of sickness and trouble. The servant advanced to meet them, and, touching his bat to his master, relieved him of a cloak and shawl he was carrying on his arm. "Have you a fly here, Brady?" said the gentleman. The servant replied in the affirmative; the lady was handed into the vehicle, the servant mounted the box, the porters piled the luggage on the top, and they were driven to their hotel. It was noon on the last day of the y
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