The Brighton Boys in the Submarine Treasure Ship

Fiction & Literature, Literary
Cover of the book The Brighton Boys in the Submarine Treasure Ship by James R. Driscoll, anboco
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: James R. Driscoll ISBN: 9783736420106
Publisher: anboco Publication: June 19, 2017
Imprint: Language: English
Author: James R. Driscoll
ISBN: 9783736420106
Publisher: anboco
Publication: June 19, 2017
Imprint:
Language: English

As the liner steamed into Callao Roads, and long before it had anchored, it was surrounded by a flotilla of small boats. A moment later, deck, saloons and cabins were invaded by a host of gesticulating and strong-minded boatmen, whose badges attested that they were duly licensed to carry off what passengers and luggage they could. They raged impotently, however, round Francis Montgomery, F.R.S., who sat enthroned on a pile of securely locked boxes in which were stored his cherished manuscripts and books. It was in vain that they told him it would be two full hours before the ship came alongside the Darsena dock. Nothing would part him from his treasures, nothing induce him to allow these half-crazed foreigners to hurl his precious luggage overside into those frail-looking skiffs. When this was suggested to him by a tall young man who called him uncle, the irascible scientist explained with fluency and point that the idea was an utterly ridiculous one. So Dick Montgomery shrugged his broad shoulders, and with a "See you presently," that hardly interrupted his uncle's flow of words, beckoned to a boatman. A moment later he had left the ship's side and was nearing the shore—the Eldorado of his young ambition, the land of gold and legends, the Peru of Pizarro and the Incas. Then the thought of a young girl's face blotted out those dreams to make way for new ones. The monotonous outline of the waterfront brought no disappointment. Little did he care that the city stretched out there before his eyes was little more than a narrow, unbeautiful blur along the sea coast, that there were none of those towers, steeples or minarets with which our ancient ports beckon out to sea that the traveler is welcome. Even when his boat had passed the Mole, and they drew level with the modern works of the Muelle Darsena, well calculated to excite the interest of a younger engineer, he remained indifferent.

View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart

As the liner steamed into Callao Roads, and long before it had anchored, it was surrounded by a flotilla of small boats. A moment later, deck, saloons and cabins were invaded by a host of gesticulating and strong-minded boatmen, whose badges attested that they were duly licensed to carry off what passengers and luggage they could. They raged impotently, however, round Francis Montgomery, F.R.S., who sat enthroned on a pile of securely locked boxes in which were stored his cherished manuscripts and books. It was in vain that they told him it would be two full hours before the ship came alongside the Darsena dock. Nothing would part him from his treasures, nothing induce him to allow these half-crazed foreigners to hurl his precious luggage overside into those frail-looking skiffs. When this was suggested to him by a tall young man who called him uncle, the irascible scientist explained with fluency and point that the idea was an utterly ridiculous one. So Dick Montgomery shrugged his broad shoulders, and with a "See you presently," that hardly interrupted his uncle's flow of words, beckoned to a boatman. A moment later he had left the ship's side and was nearing the shore—the Eldorado of his young ambition, the land of gold and legends, the Peru of Pizarro and the Incas. Then the thought of a young girl's face blotted out those dreams to make way for new ones. The monotonous outline of the waterfront brought no disappointment. Little did he care that the city stretched out there before his eyes was little more than a narrow, unbeautiful blur along the sea coast, that there were none of those towers, steeples or minarets with which our ancient ports beckon out to sea that the traveler is welcome. Even when his boat had passed the Mole, and they drew level with the modern works of the Muelle Darsena, well calculated to excite the interest of a younger engineer, he remained indifferent.

More books from anboco

Cover of the book Clio by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book The Radio Amateur's Hand Book by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book Walden, and On The Duty Of Civil Disobedience by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book William Shakespeare - A Critical Study by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book Agatized Rainbows: A Story of the Petrified Forest by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book Ben-Hur; a tale of the Christ by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book The Importance of Being Earnest: A Trivial Comedy for Serious People by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book The Shepheard's Calender: Twelve Aeglogues Proportional to the Twelve Monethes by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book The Redemption Of Kenneth Galt by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book Walks near Edinburgh by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book Round the Corner by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book Sense and Sensibility by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book Freaks of Fortune; or, Half Round the World by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book A History of Sarawak under Its Two White Rajahs 1839-1908 by James R. Driscoll
Cover of the book The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll XII by James R. Driscoll
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