John Bloundelle-Burton

Summary

John Bloundelle-Burton The Hispaniola Plate (1683-1893…

Another moment, and he knew how Alderly had died. The water in which he swam towards him tasted salter than sea-water as it touched his lips, and its clearness was discoloured--crimson! And even as Reginald seized the head of the now limbless trunk and towed it to the bank, striking out with all his power for fear of a similar dreadful fate befalling him--which was probable enough, since the shark is, like the tiger, eager for more when once its taste is whetted--he thought to himself:
"Out of the depths, out of the depths the past rises again and again."
Source: Gutenberg

John Bloundelle-Burton The Hispaniola Plate (1683-1893…

Once, twice, thrice, he did it!--the diver screaming with the first plunge of the knife into his bosom, groaning with the second, and with the third making no noise. Then Alderly lets go the diver's fist from out of his own, and frees his own body from his grasp, and down the diver fell to the brink of the river.
"You slew yourself," says he, looking down at him; "'twas your own knife that did it, your own hand that plunged it in." And here he laughed, an awful, blood-curdling laugh. The laugh of a maniac or a fiend!
Source: Gutenberg

John Bloundelle-Burton The Hispaniola Plate (1683-1893…

All around the reef was as lonely as if no plate ship had ever sunk there, no attempts ever been made to get up its contents, no horrid tragedy happened such as that when Phips slew the Black and executed of his companion. Birds flew about all over it, seeking perhaps for scraps of food where not a month ago they had found a plenty, the little waves foamed over the sunken reef where the now emptied treasure ship lay--but that was all.
Source: Gutenberg

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