A Dash from Diamond City

Dash from Diamond City, by
George Manville Fenn

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Title: A Dash from Diamond City
Author: George Manville Fenn
Illustrator: F.A. Stewart
Release Date: May 4, 2007 [EBook #21305]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DASH
FROM DIAMOND CITY ***

Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

A Dash from Diamond City, by George Manville Fenn.
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The setting is South Africa, during the Boer war. Two young men are
sent from Mafeking with important despatches which they have to get
back to the General at Kimberley, travelling through Boer-occupied
country, and meeting with many mishaps. Just before they finally arrive
they are both severely wounded, and are unconscious for a fortnight.
Luckily the despatches, which had been sewn into a jacket, now filthy
and blood-stained, are still to be found, though there had been the idea
that the jacket would most probably have been thrown away, as it
wasn't at first anywhere to be found.
There are other threads in the story, for instance there's one about
illicit-diamond-dealing, and of course we meet Boers and Kaffirs, as
well as English people.
There is the usual well-written sequence of tense moments we get from
this author. A good read, and a nice audiobook if you prefer that. NH
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A DASH FROM DIAMOND CITY, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
THREE WHITE ONES.
Tick, tap, tap--tap, ticker--ticker--tapper--tapper; tick--teck, tacker--tap
went a typewriting machine, and scratch--scratch went two pens, in one
of the minor offices connected with that vast wealth-producing industry
known as the De Beers Diamond-Mines, where, seated at desk and
table, three young men were hard at work, one manipulating the
typewriter, one writing a letter, and the third making entries in a fat
leather-covered book with broad bands and a big letter distinguishing
it upon the back.
The words: "minor office in a diamond-mine," naturally suggest wealth,
Turkey carpets, french-polished furniture, and plate-glass; but the

office in question was an example of simplicity, for its walls were mud
and its roof corrugated-iron, while the roughness of the interior was
only slightly softened down by a lining of what a carpenter calls
matchboarding. In spite of its vast wealth, Kimberley is still little better
than a moving camp, and holds out few prospects of ever becoming a
magnificent town.
The interior of that newly-created office, allowing for the tapping of the
typewriter and the scratching of the pens, was very quiet; but outside
there was the strange sound produced by the mingling of voices with
trampling feet and the distant whirr and rattle of machinery, till a clock
began striking, followed by the clangour of a bell, and then all was
changed.
"Time!" shouted the manipulator of the typewriter, springing from his
stool to stretch his wiry six feet of length, at the same time spoiling a
keen, manly face by distorting it with a yawn. The clerk who had been
bending over the thick account-book ceased making entries, applied the
blotting-paper, and closed the book with a bang, to turn round and
display a pink-and-white, fat, smooth face, disfigured by nearly white
eyebrows and lashes and curly whitey-brown hair. As he stood up he
yawned and wrinkled his fat face a good deal; but the wrinkles died
down into a smile which gave him a meek and mild appearance, the
said smile being doubled directly after by his taking a little round
shaving-glass out of his desk, propping it up by means of a contrivance
behind, and then, by the help of a pocket-comb, proceeding to
rearrange his hair, which, from the resistance offered, appeared to be
full of knots and kinks.
The last to leave his desk was a manly-looking young fellow who
appeared to be twenty, but who possessed documentary evidence that
he was only eighteen. He neither stretched nor yawned, but drew
himself up with a sigh of relief, and, after carefully locking up the
letters he had written, he turned to the typist.
"Going out, Ingleborough?" he said.
"Yes; I shan't be long. I must go on to the compound. Back in--"

"Five minutes?" dashed in his questioner.
"No; that I shan't," said the young man smartly; "but I will not exceed
fifteen. Get out my rifle and belts, West."
"All right," was the reply, and as the door closed the young clerk
crossed to a plain deal cupboard in the corner of the office, threw open
the broad door, and