“ There was a trample of hurrying feet—a hoarse shout—the crackle of three shots fired in quick succession—and the terror of the jungle lay dead over his victim's body, just as a native patrol, alarmed by the noise, came racing up to the spot.Hardman was promptly freed, and, to his son's vast relief, proved to have escaped with unbroken bones, though sorely bruised and shaken; for the tiger's fangs had not reached him, and the trench into which he had fallen had saved him from the full weight of the horse's body. ”
Summary
Yule-Tide Yarns, an anonymous collection of adventure narratives, weaves tales of danger and survival across maritime and jungle settings, featuring characters such as Bruce, Hari Rām, and Beecher. Set against the backdrop of colonial conflicts and seafaring exploits, the stories revolve around themes of life at sea—brig sails, deck crews, and oars—interwoven with encounters involving tigers, crocodiles, and indigenous resistance.
Excerpts depict tense confrontations, such as a tiger attack or a crocodile’s ambush, alongside moments of friendship and moral struggle. The work’s structure, reminiscent of similar adventure tales like The Ocean Cat’s Paw, emphasizes action and resilience, culminating in a synthesis of human endurance against nature’s and war’s unrelenting forces.
Quotes from Yule-Tide Yarns ()
“ There was a certain amount of monotony about the banks of the muddy winding river, but to Beecher, whose high spirits seemed to effervesce within his veins and through his nerves, all was bright and beautiful, and he laughed to himself as he noted now that the Malays seemed quite transformed, and they toiled away to force the boat through the water, chattering till one of them started a low sweet minor air, keeping time to the beat of the oars, and the rest joining in."Come, old chap," cried Beecher; "rouse up and load; we may get a shot at something soon." ”
“ It was already dusk when he carried the box from the cabin and strode forward along the brig's desolate deck. Mounting to the forecastle, he climbed up on one of the guns, and, leaning over the stout bulwarks, peered down into the darkening sea, with its flickering, phosphorescent lights. The vessel was still drifting, drifting eastward with the ocean current, as she had been drifting for many days."It may never be found," the lad sighed, as he flung the box far out upon the waves. "And even if perchance it be picked up, nothing may come of it." ”
