Action & Adventure Books

The Wreck in the Bay. On a dark November afternoon, not many years ago, Captain Boyns sat smoking his pipe in his own chimney-corner, gazing with a somewhat anxious expression at the fire. There was cause for anxiety, for there raged at the time one of the fiercest storms that ever blew on the shores of England. The wind was howling in the chimney with wild fury; slates and tiles were being swept off... more...

Miss Onslow. It was on a wet, dreary, dismal afternoon, toward the end of October 18—, that I found myself en route for Gravesend, to join the clipper ship City of Cawnpore, in the capacity of cuddy passenger, bound for Calcutta. The wind was blowing strong from the south-east, and came sweeping along, charged with frequent heavy rain squalls that dashed fiercely against the carriage windows, while... more...

In the Rectory Garden. “And so, Allan, you wish to go to sea?” “Yes, father,” I replied. “But, is there no other profession you would prefer—the law, for instance? It seems a prosperous trade enough, judging from the fact that solicitors generally appear well to do, with plenty of money—possibly that of other people—in their possession; so, considering the matter from a worldly point of... more...

The Refuge of the Mutineers. The Mutiny. On a profoundly calm and most beautiful evening towards the end of the last century, a ship lay becalmed on the fair bosom of the Pacific Ocean. Although there was nothing piratical in the aspect of the ship—if we except her guns—a few of the men who formed her crew might have been easily mistaken for roving buccaneers. There was a certain swagger in the... more...

In which the hunters are introduced. It was five o’clock in the afternoon. There can be no doubt whatever as to that. Old Agnes may say what she pleases—she has a habit of doing so—but I know for certain (because I looked at my watch not ten minutes before it happened) that it was exactly five o’clock in the afternoon when I received a most singular and every way remarkable visit—a visit... more...

CHAPTER I "Oh Tom, is it really safe?" A young lady—an exceedingly pretty young lady, she could be called—stood with one small, gloved hand on the outstretched wing of an aeroplane, and looked up at a young man, attired in a leather, fur-lined suit, who sat in the cockpit of the machine just above her. "Safe, Mary?" repeated the pilot, as he reached in under the hood of the craft to... more...

At the Foot of the Mountain Range. Towards the close of a bright and warm day, between fifty and sixty years ago, a solitary man might have been seen, mounted on a mule, wending his way slowly up the western slopes of the Andes. Although decidedly inelegant and unhandsome, this specimen of the human family was by no means uninteresting. He was so large, and his legs were so long, that the contrast... more...

Without a profession—An Irish “squireen”—News from abroad—Uncle Nicholas and his family—Preparations for the voyage—Tim Flanagan—Parting calls—On board the “Liberty”—Our fellow-passengers—Table-talk—A friendly hint—A sail on the starboard bow—Monsieur Lejoillie—Little Paul overboard—Gallantry of Rochford—The lion of the day. I had just left school, in a very... more...

CHAPTER I. THE MOUNTAIN-CABIN. "What's the news, Ben? You didn't happen to bring an evenin' paper, did you?" The speaker was a tall, loose-jointed man, dressed as a miner in a garb that appeared to have seen considerable service. His beard was long and untrimmed, and on his head he wore a Mexican sombrero. This was Jake Bradley, a rough but good-hearted miner, who was stretched... more...

The Wild Karroo. A solitary horseman—a youth in early manhood—riding at a snail’s pace over the great plains, or karroo, of South Africa. His chin on his breast; his hands in the pockets of an old shooting-coat; his legs in ragged trousers, and his feet in worn-out boots. Regardless of stirrups, the last are dangling. The reins hang on the neck of his steed, whose head may be said to dangle from... more...