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The Great Taboo

Creator: Allen, Grant, 1848-1899
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CHAPTER I. IN MID PACIFIC. "Man overboard!" It rang in Felix Thurstan's ears like the sound of a bell. He gazed about him in dismay, wondering what had happened. The first intimation he received of the accident was that sudden sharp cry from the bo'sun's mate. Almost before he had fully taken it in, in all its meaning, another voice, farther aft, took up the cry once more in an altered form: "A lady! a lady! Somebody overboard! Great heavens, it is _her_! It's Miss Ellis! Miss Ellis!" Next instant Felix found himself, he knew not how, struggling in a wild grapple with the dark, black water. A woman was clinging to him--clinging for dear life. But he couldn't have told you himself that minute how it all took place. He was too stunned and dazzled. He looked around him on the seething sea in a sudden awakening, as it were, to life and consciousness. All about, the great water stretched dark and tumultuous. White breakers surged over him. Far ahead the steamer's lights gleamed red and green in long lines upon the ocean. At
History of the World War An Authentic Narrative of the World\'s Greatest War

My father's part in WWI attracted me to this book. I recall him talking briefly about fighting the Bolsheviki in Archangel. "The machine gun bullets trimmed the leaves off the trees, as if it were fall." Like most veterans, he had little else to say. This book mentions his campaign on page 736; "August 3, 1918.--President Wilson announces new policy regarding Russia and agrees to cooperate with Great Britain, France and Japan in sending forces to Murmansk, Archangel and Vladivostok." My father's experience seems to be described in the following excerpt from the University of Michigan "The University Record", April 5, 1999. "Bentley showcases items from World War I 'Polar Bears'"; by Joanne Nesbit. "During the summer of 1918, the U.S. Army's 85th Division, made up primarily of men from Michigan and Wisconsin, completed training at Fort Custer in Battle Creek, Mich., and proceeded to England. The 5,000 troops of the division's 339th Infantry and support units realized that
first they ran fast; then they slackened somewhat. She was surely slowing now; they must be reversing engines and trying to stop her. They would put out a boat. But what hope, what chance of rescue by night, in such a wild waste of waves as that? And Muriel Ellis was clinging to him for dear life all the while, with the despairing clutch of a half-drowned woman! The people on the Australasian, for their part, knew better what had occurred. There was bustle and confusion enough on deck and on the captain's bridge, to be sure: "Man overboard!"--three sharp rings at the engine bell:--"Stop her short!--reverse engines!--lower the gig!--look sharp, there, all of you!" Passengers hurried up breathless at the first alarm to know what was the matter. Sailors loosened and lowered the boat from the davits with extraordinary quickness. Officers stood by, giving orders in monosyllables with practised calm. All was hurry and turmoil, yet with a marvellous sense of order and prompt obedience as well. But, at any rate, the people on deck hadn't the swift swirl of the boisterous water, the hampering wet clothes, the pervading consciousness of personal danger, to make their brains reel, like Felix Thurstan's. They could ask one another with comparative composure what had happened on board; they could listen without terror to the story of the accident. It was the thirteenth day out from Sydney, and the Australasian was rapidly nearing the equator. Toward evening the wind had freshened, and the sea was running high against her weather side. But it was a fine