The Castaways

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book The Castaways by Harry Collingwood, Library of Alexandria
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: Harry Collingwood ISBN: 9781465505057
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Harry Collingwood
ISBN: 9781465505057
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English

MISS ONSLOW. It was on a wet, dreary, dismal afternoon, toward the end of October 18—, that I found myself en route for Gravesend, to join the clipper ship City of Cawnpore, in the capacity of cuddy passenger, bound for Calcutta. The wind was blowing strong from the south-east, and came sweeping along, charged with frequent heavy rain squalls that dashed fiercely against the carriage windows, while the atmosphere was a mere dingy, brownish grey expanse of shapeless vapour, so all-pervading that it shut out not only the entire firmament but also a very considerable portion of the landscape. There had been a time, not so very long ago—while I was hunting slavers on the West Coast, grilling under a scorching African sun day after day and month after month, with pitiless monotony—when the mere recollection of such weather as this had made me long for a taste of it as a priceless luxury; but now, after some five months’ experience of the execrable British climate, I folded my cloak more closely about me, as I gazed through the carriage windows at the rain-blurred landscape, and blessed the physician who was sending me southward in search of warmth and sunshine and the strong salt breeze once more. For it was in pursuit of renewed health and strength that I was about to undertake the voyage; a spell of over two years of hard, uninterrupted service upon the Coast—during which a more than average allowance of wounds and fever had fallen to my share—had compelled me to invalid home; and now, with my wounds healed, the fever banished from my system, and in possession of a snug little, recently-acquired competence that rendered it unnecessary for me to follow the sea as a profession, I— Charles Conyers, R.N., aged twenty-seven—was, by the fiat of my medical adviser, about to seek, on the broad ocean, that life-giving tonic which is unobtainable elsewhere, and which was all that I now needed to entirely reinvigorate my constitution and complete my restoration to perfect health

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

MISS ONSLOW. It was on a wet, dreary, dismal afternoon, toward the end of October 18—, that I found myself en route for Gravesend, to join the clipper ship City of Cawnpore, in the capacity of cuddy passenger, bound for Calcutta. The wind was blowing strong from the south-east, and came sweeping along, charged with frequent heavy rain squalls that dashed fiercely against the carriage windows, while the atmosphere was a mere dingy, brownish grey expanse of shapeless vapour, so all-pervading that it shut out not only the entire firmament but also a very considerable portion of the landscape. There had been a time, not so very long ago—while I was hunting slavers on the West Coast, grilling under a scorching African sun day after day and month after month, with pitiless monotony—when the mere recollection of such weather as this had made me long for a taste of it as a priceless luxury; but now, after some five months’ experience of the execrable British climate, I folded my cloak more closely about me, as I gazed through the carriage windows at the rain-blurred landscape, and blessed the physician who was sending me southward in search of warmth and sunshine and the strong salt breeze once more. For it was in pursuit of renewed health and strength that I was about to undertake the voyage; a spell of over two years of hard, uninterrupted service upon the Coast—during which a more than average allowance of wounds and fever had fallen to my share—had compelled me to invalid home; and now, with my wounds healed, the fever banished from my system, and in possession of a snug little, recently-acquired competence that rendered it unnecessary for me to follow the sea as a profession, I— Charles Conyers, R.N., aged twenty-seven—was, by the fiat of my medical adviser, about to seek, on the broad ocean, that life-giving tonic which is unobtainable elsewhere, and which was all that I now needed to entirely reinvigorate my constitution and complete my restoration to perfect health

More books from Library of Alexandria

Cover of the book The Walam Olum: Excerpt from The Lenâpé and Their Legends by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book The Morning Glory Club by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book The Witch-cult in Western Europe A Study in Anthropology by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book The Melody of Earth: An Anthology of Garden and Nature Poems From Present-Day Poets by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book Nina Balatka by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book The White House by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book The Yellow Face by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book 1001 Questions and Answers on Orthography and Reading by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book Asgard Stories: Tales From Norse Mythology by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book Donal Grant by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book Grit Lawless by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book Cuba Past and Present by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book The Jesus of History by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book Egypt (La Mort De Philae) by Harry Collingwood
Cover of the book The American Country Girl by Harry Collingwood
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