George Manville Fenn

George Manville Fenn

Summary

Portrait of George Manville Fenn George Manville Fenn Cutlass and Cudgel

Archy Raystoke’s sense of weariness rapidly passed off, as the oars splashed, and the boat glided softly out of the waters of the cove, between the two huge corners of rock which guarded the entrance, and then began to dance up and down as she reached out into the tideway. After the darkness of the old quarry, with its faint odour of spirits, the night seemed comparatively like noonday, and the pure, brisk air that fanned his cheek delicious.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of George Manville Fenn George Manville Fenn Cutlass and Cudgel

Archy felt his heart throb as he led the way down the slope, every step of which seemed so familiar that he advanced without hesitation, the knowledge of how many sturdy men he had at his back keeping away the natural shrinking which under other circumstances he might have felt.
“Halt!” said the master suddenly, and then in a whisper to his guide, “Strikes me as they’ll have the best of it if they should fight, my lad.”
“Not much,” replied Archy; “it’s as dark for them as it is for us, so that they can’t take us at a disadvantage. Call on them to surrender again.”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of George Manville Fenn George Manville Fenn Cutlass and Cudgel

They were so close to the huge wall of rocks that it seemed as if they were alive with strange marine creatures, which kept on writhing and whispering together, and making gasping and sucking noises, as the tide heaved and sank among the loose rocks and seaweed, while Archy could not divest himself of the idea that they were watched by people keeping pace with them higher up on the top of the cliff.
Source: Gutenberg

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