The Captain of the Kansas. Louis Tracy. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Louis Tracy
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 4064066178567
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       Louis Tracy

      The Captain of the Kansas

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066178567

       CHAPTER II

       CHAPTER III

       CHAPTER IV

       CHAPTER V

       CHAPTER VI

       CHAPTER VII

       CHAPTER VIII

       CHAPTER IX

       CHAPTER X

       CHAPTER XI

       CHAPTER XII

       CHAPTER XIII

       CHAPTER XIV

       CHAPTER XV

       CHAPTER XVI

       CHAPTER XVII

       CHAPTER XVIII

       CHAPTER XIX

       THE END

      CHAPTER I

      ITEMS NOT IN THE MANIFEST

      CHAPTER II

      WHEREIN THE CAPTAIN KEEPS TO HIS OWN QUARTERS

      CHAPTER III

      WHEREIN THE CAPTAIN REAPPEARS

      CHAPTER IV

      ELSIE GOES ON DECK

      CHAPTER V

      THE KANSAS SUSTAINS A CHECK

      CHAPTER VI

      —BUT GOES ON AGAIN INTO THE UNKNOWN

      CHAPTER VII

      UNTIL THE DAWN

      CHAPTER VIII

      IN A WILD HAVEN

      CHAPTER IX

      A PROFESSOR OF WITCHCRAFT

      CHAPTER X

      "MISSING AT LLOYDS"

      CHAPTER XI

      CONFIDENCES

      CHAPTER XII

      ENLIGHTENMENT

      CHAPTER XIII

      THE FIGHT

      CHAPTER XIV

      THE FIRST WATCH

      CHAPTER XV

      IN WHICH THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS

      CHAPTER XVI

      CHRISTOBAL'S TEMPTATION

      CHAPTER XVII

      A MAN'S METHOD—AND A WOMAN'S

      CHAPTER XVIII

      A FULL NIGHT

      CHAPTER XIX

      WHEREIN THE KANSAS RESUMES HER VOYAGE

       The Captain of the Kansas

      CHAPTER I

      ITEMS NOT IN THE MANIFEST

      "I think I shall enjoy this trip," purred Isobel Baring, nestling comfortably among the cushions of her deck chair. A steward was arranging tea for two at a small table. The Kansas, with placid hum of engines, was speeding evenly through an azure sea.

      "I agree with that opinion most heartily, though, to be sure, so much depends on the weather," replied her friend, Elsie Maxwell, rising to pour out the tea. Already the brisk sea-breeze had kissed the Chilean pallor from Elsie's face, which had regained its English peach-bloom. Isobel Baring's complexion was tinged with the warmth of a pomegranate. At sea, even in the blue Pacific, she carried with her the suggestion of a tropical garden.

      "I never gave a thought to the weather," purred Isobel again, as she subsided more deeply into the cushions.

      "Let us hope such a blissful state of mind may be justified. But you know, dear, we may run into a dreadful gale before we reach the Straits."

      Isobel laughed.

      "All the better!" she cried. "People tell me I am a most fascinating invalid. I look like a creamy orchid. And what luck to have a chum so disinterested as you where a lot of nice men are concerned! What have I done to deserve it? Because you are really charming, you know."

      "Does that mean that you have already discovered a lot of nice men on board?"

      Elsie handed her friend a cup of tea and a plate of toast.

      "Naturally. While you were mooning over the lights and tints of the Andes, I kept an eye, both eyes in fact, on our compulsory acquaintances of the next three weeks. To begin with, there's the captain."

      "He is good-looking, certainly. Somewhat reserved, I fancied."

      "Reserved!" Isobel showed all her fine teeth in a smile.

       Incidentally, she took a satisfactory bite out of a square of toast.

       "I 'll soon shake the reserve out of him. He is mine. You will see

       him play pet dog long before we meet that terrible gale of yours."

      "Isobel, you promised your father—"

      "To look after my health during the voyage. Do you think that I intend only to sleep, eat, and read novels all the way to London? Then, indeed, I should be ill. But there is a French Comte on the ship. He is mine, too."

      "You mean to find safety in numbers?"

      "Oh, there are others. Of course, I am sure of my little Count. He twisted his mustache with such an air when I skidded past