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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"Memoirs of His Adventures At Home and Abroad and Particularly in the Island of Corsica: Beginning with the Year 1756"


The rest Halliday took and heaped on a sea-chest raised on a couple
of tables close under the deck. We ran up our trains on a couple of
planks laid aslant, and touched off at a signal. There were two
explosions, but we timed them so prettily that I believe they went
off in one."
"They did," said I.
"My wits must have been pretty clear, then--at the moment.
Afterwards (I don't mind confessing to you) I lay for some minutes
where the explosion flung me. In my hurry I had overdone the dose."
We had been shovelling for an hour and more. Already the ship began
to labour heavily, and my father climbed to the deck to observe the
alteration in her trim. He dropped back and picked up his shovel
again in a chastened silence. In fact, deputy-captain Priske (who
had just accomplished the ticklish task of securing the rudder and
lashing a couple of ropes to its broken head for steering-gear) had
ordered him back to work, using language not unmixed with
objurgation.
For all our efforts the _Gauntlet_ still canted heavily to leeward,
and as the gale grew to its height the little canvas necessary to
heave-to came near to drowning us.


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