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The Wilderness Castaways
The Wilderness Castaways
Knygos.lt klubas Knygos.lt nariams
8,46 €
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12,09 €
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"Dan Rudd," roared Captain Zachariah Bluntt, "if I has to tell you again to keep that mouth organ below decks, I'll wring your neck! Yes, wring your neck! By the imps of the sea, I will!" "Aye, aye, sir," answered Dan Rudd, a robust, sunny-faced sailor lad of sixteen, quickly slipping the offending harmonica, upon which he had been playing a lively air, into his pocket. Captain Bluntt, impatiently pacing the deck, was plainly in ill humor. His great red beard, standing out like a lion's mane, b…

The Wilderness Castaways (el. knyga) (skaityta knyga) | knygos.lt

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"Dan Rudd," roared Captain Zachariah Bluntt, "if I has to tell you again to keep that mouth organ below decks, I'll wring your neck! Yes, wring your neck! By the imps of the sea, I will!" "Aye, aye, sir," answered Dan Rudd, a robust, sunny-faced sailor lad of sixteen, quickly slipping the offending harmonica, upon which he had been playing a lively air, into his pocket. Captain Bluntt, impatiently pacing the deck, was plainly in ill humor. His great red beard, standing out like a lion's mane, bristled ominously, and his shaggy eyebrows were drawn down in an unpleasant scowl. It was two o'clock on a mid-July afternoon, the last case of provisions had been lowered into the hold, the last lighter-load of coal stowed into the bunkers, steam was up, and the staunch little Newfoundland steamer North Star, riding at anchor in Sydney harbor, had been ready to sail for three hours, and for three hours Captain Bluntt had been impatiently awaiting orders to get under way.

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"Dan Rudd," roared Captain Zachariah Bluntt, "if I has to tell you again to keep that mouth organ below decks, I'll wring your neck! Yes, wring your neck! By the imps of the sea, I will!" "Aye, aye, sir," answered Dan Rudd, a robust, sunny-faced sailor lad of sixteen, quickly slipping the offending harmonica, upon which he had been playing a lively air, into his pocket. Captain Bluntt, impatiently pacing the deck, was plainly in ill humor. His great red beard, standing out like a lion's mane, bristled ominously, and his shaggy eyebrows were drawn down in an unpleasant scowl. It was two o'clock on a mid-July afternoon, the last case of provisions had been lowered into the hold, the last lighter-load of coal stowed into the bunkers, steam was up, and the staunch little Newfoundland steamer North Star, riding at anchor in Sydney harbor, had been ready to sail for three hours, and for three hours Captain Bluntt had been impatiently awaiting orders to get under way.

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