I could hardly believe my eyes.
Sam’s banjo was no longer there!
Chapter Ten.
Abingdon Island.
After the first grating, grinding shock of going ashore, the ship did not bump again; but, listing over to port, she settled down quietly, soon working a sort of cradle bed for herself in the sand at the spot where she stranded.
This, at least, was our conclusion, from the absence of any subsequent motion or movement on board, the deck being as steady now as any platform on dry land, although rather downhill on one side, from the vessel heeling as she took the ground.
However, it was all guess work, as we could see nothing, not even our own faces, save when brought immediately under the light of the galley lantern, around which all the hands forward were closely huddled together, like a drove of frightened sheep; for, the darkness could be almost felt, as it hung over the ill-fated Denver City, a thick, impenetrable, black pall, that seemed ominous of evil and further disaster.
This continued for nearly an hour; the men near me only speaking in hushed whispers, as if afraid of hearing their own voices.