Bert Wilson, Wireless Operator

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book Bert Wilson, Wireless Operator by J. W. Duffield, Library of Alexandria
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: J. W. Duffield ISBN: 9781465524447
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: J. W. Duffield
ISBN: 9781465524447
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English
Running Amuck “Amuck! Amuck! He’s running amuck! Quick! For your lives!” The drowsy water front pulsed into sudden life. There was a sound of running feet, of hoarse yells, a shriek of pain and terror as a knife bit into flesh, and a lithe, brown figure leaped upon the steamer’s rail. It was a frightful picture he presented, as he stood there, holding to a stanchion with one hand, while, in the Other, he held a crooked dagger whose point was stained an ominous red. He was small and wiry, only a little over five feet in height, but strong and quick as a panther. His black hair, glossy with cocoa oil, streamed in the wind, his eyes were lurid with the wild light of insanity, his lips were parted in a savage snarl, and he was foaming at the mouth. He had lost all semblance of humanity, and as he stood there looking for another victim, he might have been transported bodily from one of Doré’s pictures of Dante’s Inferno. Suddenly, he caught sight of a group of three coming down the pier, and leaping to the wharf, he started toward them, his bare feet padding along noiselessly, while he tightened his grip on the murderous knife. A shot rang out behind him but missed him, and he kept on steadily, drawing nearer and nearer to his intended prey. The three companions, toward whom doom was coming so swiftly and fearfully, were now halfway down the pier. They were typical young Americans, tall, clean cut, well knit, and with that easy swing and carriage that marks the athlete and bespeaks splendid physical condition. They had been laughing and jesting and were evidently on excellent terms with life. Their eyes were bright, their faces tinged with the bronzed red of perfect health, the blood ran warmly through their veins, and it seemed a bitter jest of fate that over them, of all men, should be flung the sinister shadow of death. Yet never in all their life had they been so near to it as on that sleepy summer afternoon on that San Francisco wharf
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Running Amuck “Amuck! Amuck! He’s running amuck! Quick! For your lives!” The drowsy water front pulsed into sudden life. There was a sound of running feet, of hoarse yells, a shriek of pain and terror as a knife bit into flesh, and a lithe, brown figure leaped upon the steamer’s rail. It was a frightful picture he presented, as he stood there, holding to a stanchion with one hand, while, in the Other, he held a crooked dagger whose point was stained an ominous red. He was small and wiry, only a little over five feet in height, but strong and quick as a panther. His black hair, glossy with cocoa oil, streamed in the wind, his eyes were lurid with the wild light of insanity, his lips were parted in a savage snarl, and he was foaming at the mouth. He had lost all semblance of humanity, and as he stood there looking for another victim, he might have been transported bodily from one of Doré’s pictures of Dante’s Inferno. Suddenly, he caught sight of a group of three coming down the pier, and leaping to the wharf, he started toward them, his bare feet padding along noiselessly, while he tightened his grip on the murderous knife. A shot rang out behind him but missed him, and he kept on steadily, drawing nearer and nearer to his intended prey. The three companions, toward whom doom was coming so swiftly and fearfully, were now halfway down the pier. They were typical young Americans, tall, clean cut, well knit, and with that easy swing and carriage that marks the athlete and bespeaks splendid physical condition. They had been laughing and jesting and were evidently on excellent terms with life. Their eyes were bright, their faces tinged with the bronzed red of perfect health, the blood ran warmly through their veins, and it seemed a bitter jest of fate that over them, of all men, should be flung the sinister shadow of death. Yet never in all their life had they been so near to it as on that sleepy summer afternoon on that San Francisco wharf

More books from Library of Alexandria

Cover of the book The Birth of Yugoslavia (Complete) by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book The Market-Place by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book A Word, Only a Word (Complete) by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book Milton's England by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book Witchcraft of New England Explained by Modern Spiritualism by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book The Days of Chivalry: The Legend of Croquemitaine by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book Organisation: How Armies are Formed For War by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book The Fortunes of Hector O'Halloran, And His Man Mark Antony O'Toole by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book Figures of Several Centuries by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book Kipps: The Story of a Simple Soul by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book Selected Essays by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book Bits about Home Matters by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book Briefe Schillers und Goethes an A. W. Schlegel by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book Star-Dust by J. W. Duffield
Cover of the book Historia de los Judíos en España: desde los tiempos de su establecimiento hasta principios del present siglo by J. W. Duffield
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy