Morley Ashton: A Story of the Sea. Volume 3 (of 3)

They deplored the death of poor Mr. Quail; but their blood was too much "up," to use a common phrase, and their own peril was too imminent, to permit them indulging in the same...

On the evening succeeding this day, Morley and Mr. Basset spent some hours with Ethel and Rose in the little cabin, while their friends kept their anxious watch in the outer one...

We left the leaders of the mutiny in the forecastle, consulting, in their own coarse and blustering fashion, about the capture of the cabin, and thus acquiring entire possession...

In a preceding chapter we have described the forecastle bunks of the _Hermione_, when the ship was in a state of good order and discipline, and when that portion of her hull was...

On Ethel the effects of all she had undergone--a terror equal to the menace of death--the memory of all she had seen, Pedro bleeding from the bullet of Hawkshaw, and the latter...

Noon was drawing slowly on; Ethel and Rose were still sleeping, when the tarpaulin, or spare mizzen-topsail, which had so long covered the skylight, was withdrawn from above, an...

Pity for Mr. Basset, and intense commiseration for his two daughters, soon gave place in the hearts of his friends to a dire longing for vengeance on the treacherous authors of...

"Ah, Miss Basset; leave us--do leave us, for Heaven's sake--this is no scene for you!" said Heriot, half imperatively, half entreatingly. "Ashton, I can ill spare you, but do le...

So busy had they all been about the restoration of Mr. Basset, that they heard nothing of the ribald songs, the wild uproar, and systematic noise of the crew, who were all clust...

All the few who could work on board the _Hermione_--seven in number--to wit, Captain Phillips, and his second mate, Mr. Foster, Morley Ashton, Tom Bartelot, and his mate, Morris...

On the morning after the ship was recaptured, while the _Hermione_ was "going free," and running steadily with her staysails set, Morley and Bartelot visited the dying wretch in...

"Bah!" replied Captain Phillips, who was busy with his quadrant; "I have seen something of this kind before, Mr. Ashton, and know it is only a case of 'the devil was sick:' you...

From the mole the carriage was driven to one of the most splendid hotels in Valparaiso. Don Salvador held his daughter in his arms, and hung over her with great solicitude and a...

Santiago lies sixty miles south-west of Valparaiso towards the Andes, a rough and hilly road. To proceed there on foot by no means suited Pedro's ideas of locomotion, while to t...

"That Fortune is not nice in her morality," says Maria Edgeworth; "that she frequently favours those who do not adhere to truth more than those who do, we have early had occasio...

Padre Eizagiuerro, the confessor of Ignez, suspected much, but Padre Ugarte, a stern and ascetic enthusiast, suspected, and said more; for he openly inveighed against the simpli...

In the cool night breeze, that swept through the Alameda de la Canada, Pedro had recovered consciousness, but he had no conception of how he came to be there, nor had he a recol...

The _Diaria de Valparaiso_, _El Mercurio del Vapor_, and other papers, but chiefly documents of a private nature belonging to the late Don Salvador de Moreno (for the poor man d...

During the six preceding chapters, the reader may have been kindly wondering how Mr. Basset's health progressed after the night which succeeded the skilful attempt of Dr. Heriot...

It was a pleasant sunny morning when Ethel was roused by Morley tapping on her cabin-door, and making the cheerful announcement that land was in sight, almost ahead, so she and...

The secluded creek in which the ship lay moored had a little history of its own, that was better than the misty recollections of old Marco Polo, who, by-the-way, never visited M...

Noah had the first carronade on the right--that is, abreast of the mainmast. Stooping down, he trained it carefully, elevating and then slightly depressing the muzzle till he co...

The despairing exclamation of the worthy captain had a very singular sequel, for scarcely had it left his lips, and just when the paddlers were again scooping away, as, with yel...

Our story is now drawing to a close, but no sudden or striking tableau, no tremendous _dénouement_ or poetical rhapsody will attend the fall of the curtain, albeit that truth is...

Eight months after all this, it was in the drawing-room of Laurel Lodge that those whose adventures we have traced so far were all waiting for the boom of the dinner-gong, for i...