Tales of Our Coast

Front Cover
International Association of Newspapers and Authors, 1896 - Short stories, English - 203 pages
0 Reviews
Reviews aren't verified, but Google checks for and removes fake content when it's identified
 

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 153 - The trumpeter looked down on him from the height of six foot two, and asked : "Did they die well?" '"They died very well. There was a lot of running to and fro at first, and some of the men began to cry, and a few to strip off their clothes. But when the ship fell off for the last time, Captain Mein turned and said something to Major Griffiths, the commanding officer on board, and the Major called out to me to beat to quarters. It might have been for a wedding, he sang it out so cheerful. We'd had...
Page 155 - Light Dragoons — the Queen's Own. I played ' God save the King' while our men were drowning. Captain Duncanfield told me to sound a call or two, to put them in heart ; but that matter of ' God save the King
Page 174 - Do you happen to know if the 38th Regiment was engaged?' my father asked. 'Come, now,' said Parson Kendall, 'I didn't know you was so well up in the campaign. But, as it happens, I do know that the 38th was engaged, for 'twas they that held a cottage and stopped the French advance. "Still my father held his tongue; and when, a week later, he walked into Helston and bought a Mercury off the Sherborne rider, and got the landlord of the 'Angel' to spell out the list of killed and wounded, sure enough,...
Page 133 - He went to the door, opened it, and stood studying the gale that beat upon his cottage-front, straight from the Manacle Reef. The rain drove past him into the kitchen aslant like threads of gold silk in the shine of the wreckwood fire. Meanwhile by the same firelight I examined the relics on my knee.
Page 159 - There's janius in this lock; for you've only to make the rings spell any six-letter word you please and snap down the lock upon that, and never a soul can open it — not the maker, even — until somebody comes along that knows the word you snapped it on. Now Johnny here's goin", and he leaves his drum behind him; for, though he can make pretty music on it, the parchment sags in wet weather, by reason of the sea-water getting at it; an' if he carries it to Plymouth, they'll only condemn it and give...
Page 142 - ... standing up like heroes as soon as it passed. The captain an' the officers were clinging to the rail of the quarter-deck, all in their golden uniforms, waiting for the end as if 'twas King George they expected. There was no way to help, for she lay right beyond cast of line, though our folk tried it fifty times. And beside them clung a trumpeter, a whacking big man, an...
Page 162 - He had grown a brave bit, and his face was the colour of wood-ashes ; but it was the drummer John Christian. Only his uniform was different from the one he used to wear, and the figures " 38 " shone in brass upon his collar. ' The drummer walked past my father as if he never saw him, and stood by the elbowchair and said : ' " Trumpeter, trumpeter, are you one with me ? " ' And the trumpeter just lifted the lids of his eyes, and answered, " How should I not be one with you, drummer Johnny — Johnny...
Page 141 - An' three or four soldiers, too — fine long corpses in white breeches and jackets of blue and gold. I held the lantern to one. Such a straight young man!' "My father asked her about the trumpeting. "'That's the queerest bit of all. She was burnin' a light when me an' my man joined the crowd down there.
Page 147 - Primrose (Mein was his name) did quite right to try and club-haul his vessel when he found himself under the land ; only he never ought to have got there, if he took proper soundings. But it's easy talking. 'The Primrose...
Page 135 - Kendall, he made the word, and locked down a couple o' ghosts in their graves with it ; and when his time came, he went to his own grave and took the word with him." " Whose ghosts, Matthew ? " " You want the story, I see, sir. My father could tell it better than I can. He was a young man in the year 'nine, unmarried at the time, and living in this very cottage, just as I be. That's how he came to get mixed up with the tale.

Bibliographic information