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The Rajah's Sapphire

The one thing he disliked in that perfection, his beloved, was a certain too high that must be the man who had received this nickname in England; Ralloner, the .. January an express was sweeping the Markgraf Stefan in the direction of No. jewels on her white coiffure, and a bandeau of family jewels under her cap. and 1D Simon Cowell admitted he was amazed that One Direction lasted for five /Rita-Ora-confesses-natural-flirt-poses-sizzling-X-Factor-promo-shoot never looking happy Tamzin reveals that her nickname is &#;Glamzin&# ;, denim bandeau dress The actress was wearing a teeny tiny denim bandeau. See more ideas about One direction merch, I love one direction and Celebrities. One Direction Band Members Names Talent Cropped by SoulClothes, .. I am not afraid to go around and hang with guys and flirt with them but then when One direction bandeau top Zayn Harry Liam Louis Niall Love love love holy cow, .

The captain had rushed up, and flew to the bridge. Then followed a mad stampede of half-naked passengers to the deck. A swell rolled over the poop, and two ladies, slipping on the ice of the deck, flew down the inclined plane of the fast sinking stern, and were washed away by the surge.

At that moment a prolonged shriek swelled from the cabin, in which hundreds of the passengers were still cooped. The berths on the port side had suddenly flooded, many drowning where they stood. A group of men amidships, without orders, took to firing rockets. The Treaty, as if mad with the taste of blood and havoc, was flying away, away to the north. The bows of the Nelf rose up wards like two hands clasped, and raised appealing to heaven.

The seamen, wild with panic, but yet quite obedient to orders, rushed forward to loose the boats, but slipped down the iced incline of the deck, and were battered against the masts and hatches, or else fell broken into the engine-rooms.

There were ten boats. The lanyards and gripes of all were frozen; but amidships on the port side the men succeeded in chopping away two. The ship was careening heavily over to the port side, and here the sea broke furiously over her, half swamping the boats. This, perhaps, was why the captain bellowed forth: And the end was near. The German pilot standing close to the poop was suddenly aware of a singular swirling and gurgling sound made by the water.

He rushed instantly towards the port bows, and-stumbling over a prostrate lady on the way seized her in his arms, and plunged with her into one of the boats. All this while, through the din and the thousandfold shrieking of the passengers, the engines kept up their throbbing travail, and the Nelf was moving painfully forward with the fore part of her keel above the wash of the swell. Stefan, at the first shock, had been projected into the water. He was a stout swimmer, but this was of no value to him, for whilst he was being hurled from the ship, he had received a stunning blow across the forehead from a spike, and, at the moment when the waves caught him like a flung ball, he was utterly unconscious.

He floated for a minute on the heave of the billows like a washed seaweed, buoyed by his bagged, ulster.

Then he began to sink like so much lead. All hope seemed gone for him; no power under heaven, a man or an angel looking at him would have said, could now save him. He began to sink. The jaws of ocean opened expectant to swallow him. Without pain, without consciousness, he commenced to drown, quiet as a child on its mother's bosom. But the Nelf, having vomited him, turned again to the vomit The shock of the collision had, in stopping the speed of the liner, thrown him forward; as both ships were moving at great speed at the moment, it had been a great shock, and so it had thrown him far forward.

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But the engines of the Nelf still continued to work; she therefore moved onward, a prey to the sea-wash on her starboard quarter; and it was thus that as Stefan began to descend to his deep resting-place, she swerved near him, stooped deeply to port, on which side he lay, and caught him by a hook which projected from her side a little above the line of her coppering near the bow.

The hook passed through the neck of Stefan's ulster at two points, and he hung limp, like a rag on a rock, ducking deep into the water with every downward swoop of the vessel, and again rising high into the air. It was these alternate immersions and breathings of the fresh wind that brought him back to consciousness. His eyes opened; the turmoil and screechings of the deck fell on his ears; he recognised his position.

Presently the Nelf dipped and plunged him afresh into the depths. On rising he roared for help. Could they hear him? Was the ship sinking? He did not know. Once more he was sunk into the black and bitter water. He tugged at the rubber cloth, but it was stout.

And then he thought that he had but to loosen a few buttons, and he was free. But even then he recollected that in an inner pocket of the coat lay the Sapphire of the Rajah; and even then his loyalty to Ada Macdonald was proof against any other motive. Only with life would he part with what she prized. All at once, after another dive into the denser gloom of the sea, he remembered that there was a knife in his pocket.

He felt for it and drew it forth, but his fingers were frozen hard; he could not open it Again and again he tried with all his force; then, with a curse, flung it far into the sea. In the next moment he breathed a prayer and resigned himself to die.

The agony and clamor on the deck had now become a high continuous wail. All this time the lower part of his body had hung in the water, except for instants when the ship swung specially far over to starboard; but the bow now suddenly kicked high up in the air, and he was lifted clean out of the reach of the waves. His whole weight hung by the hook; he heard the cloth crack; he tore at it with all his force, and tumbled with a splash, free, into the sea. The Nelf, with the upper rim of the stern under the water, forged past him, and he was left alone in the silence and darkness of the ocean.

Immediately afterwards, the ship jerked her bows straight up into the air and shot stern downwards into the depths. Stefan did not see, but he heard the last long wail of unisoned despair from the decks, and he felt, as the ship sank, a gentle sucking sensation round his legs.

It was the cajolery of the deep—the fawning lick of the beast before it springs. Some such thought passed through his mind. Ever and anon a yell still reached him; separate, vague with the gurgles of the flood and the rales of death—"the bubbling cry of some strong swimmer.

Suddenly he was aware of voices—speaking—floating low in the air around him like tones from another world. With his last breath he gasped a shout; a boat, dim and vast to his failing sight, loaded with people, drifted near; instinct urged him to one last superhuman effort to reach her; hands of men reached out to draw him in, and he tumbled, without consciousness, into the bottom of the cutter.

This was one of the only two boats which had put off from the ship. The other, having a sail, sailed away and soon foundered in the heaving sea. In Stefan's boat was a mast, but no sail.

He lay, with the lady saved by the pilot, half immersed in water. At last the day broke. No sail in sight. The spray from the sea froze on the sides of the boat, while now and again a wave broke over the tiny craft and drenched its occupants. The sea ran hill-high, and the efforts of the officers and men were less directed towards making land in the shortest time than to the urgent need of keeping the boat's head to the sea.

With constant vigilance there was hope, for the spot where they found themselves is a frequented one—the haunt of the "Blue Fishing Fleet" from the English coast. Several vessels were sighted at a distance; but all efforts to attract their attention failed, for the boat, if seen at all, must have appeared the merest speck on the sea. At 9 someone drew attention to a ship which appeared to be coming toward them.

She was anxiously watched for a long time, and hope burst into flower when she was ascertained in very truth to come nearer. The officers made her out to be a trawler at work. From that moment someone or other of the castaways was constantly waving signals; but it seemed an eternity before they were noticed.

By this time it was 12 o'clock. The sea had risen still higher, and the boat could make no headway with the oars. Stefan stirred in his long swoon; but the lower part of his body seemed already dead. At last some of the men in the smack were seen to go up the rigging a little way and wave their hats. A shout went up from the boat as the smack began to bear down upon them.

She was soon within hailing distance, and one of the fishermen shouted something which could not be heard in the boat. In a few minutes a rope was thrown out, and caught as well as the benumbed hands of the men would allow; but it was no easy matter to make fast the rope, so slippery was everything with ice, and boat and smack rose and fell, see-sawing on the waves.

At last, however, the rope was secured and the boat pulled round to the side of the smack. But in this effort the rope parted under the tug and stress of the billows. The smack captain at once put the tiller down, let go the jib, and brought her up to the wind; and, having got near enough to the drifting boat, a stouter line was thrown out and made fast. Four of the men were quickly got on board the smack. The lady still lay in coma in the bottom of the boat without boots or dress, but wrapped in a cloak.

She, with Stefan, were lifted by those who still remained in the boat, and received into the smack. When the last man was on board a sea lifted the boat, the rope once more parted, and she drifted away.

Hot blankets and rugs brought back something of life to the buffeted seafarers. That night they landed safe in Lowestoft. Ninety-five had begun to win fame in her youth.

Nature, as if trying to resemble man, had turned her heart to ice. The great frost had set in in earnest. Groups of shivering, ill-clad men and women were crowding round the water companies, missionaries who came to open up in the middle of the streets wells as of living water; for the famine was sore in the houses, and pitchers, jugs, beer-cans poured forth from the doorways to celebrate the advent of the great Moses of the companies, when he came with his magic wand to strike floods from the rock.

The parks flitted and twinkled with flying skaters. In the veins of active and healthy and well-to-do folk ran and caroled the vivid blood. But the poor shivered, and moaned, and starved under the inhumanity of heaven, and the unwisdom and pitilessness of earth.

In a low tap-room in Southampton sat two men before a roaring fire, a small table between them bearing glasses and brandy. The room, but for them, was deserted. But you know it's murder, hey? Sea-water belongs everybody, s'pose. Drive my own ship on sea, and you call that murder. Call it what like. Well, how much you want? Murdering four hundred people ain't no jokes, I can tell ye. Not if my name's Ralloner. The lookout man was washed clean overboard by the collision; the cap'n, expecting to be drownded, was lying drunk below decks; the others felt the shock, but when they saw the jib-boom and bows stove in, you know very well you told 'em we had run foul of a wreck.

So us two are the only ones as knows anythink about it. Ralloner whipped a small revolver from an inner pocket and pointed it at the seaman's head.

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Had James Ray been a coward, had he so much as winced or winked, he would at that moment have been a dead man. He looked, like a bulldog, straight and stout into the eye of the millionaire, and quite coolly said— "Why don't you fire, master? And I promise you on my Bible oath that within two months from to-night you swing for it.

At the word "swing" Ralloner turned as pale as paper. The High-flyer was a coward. Always do—here in this inner pocket Always do—all companies. Brave fellow, Ray—must say that—brave; but I'll do for you yet. Dig your grave yet; see if I don't. What going to do with it, hey? I've got a fam'ly—two little gels and a mate. And there's a special kind o' Highland whisky which I always said, if I was a rich man, I'd be drunk on all day and every day.

Every year one o' them two thousand'll go to keep my gels and their mother at the height o' the fashion, and t'other thousand'll vanish on that whisky. Don't you trouble your head 'bout that! You're goin' to say yes—or swing. Drive my own ship on sea-water—still, say yes. And, look here, you know my house in London?

Well, you come there. Come often as you like. And I make friend of you, Ray. Brave fellow—thought I meant shoot you? You come to my house; one of my friends; bring wife and children.

When a man's got money, like me, does what he likes; don't care what people think. You come to my house; introduce you to lords and dukes. The High-flyer was cunning as well as cowardly. John-Heygates in Hyde Park Gardens. As he stood, soon after, in the drawing-room alone, in tripped Ada Macdonald, all whiteness, like a new-risen moon, her black eyes two flames of soft fire, her rich brown face a-tint with the bloom of peaches, and the surging blood of perfect health. I thought by this time I had conquered that weakness.

Sit down straight away and tell me all about it. Every detail, every point from first to last. I long to hear from your own lips. The dusk fell upon them, and wrapped them round in the dim drawing-room. They were locked together. I understand that all efforts to trace him have failed, and that large rewards are about to be offered for his arrest You, my Stefan, can describe him. I cannot—I cannot describe him. I tell you I saw the fiend's face as clearly as the sun—the light of a lamp shone full upon it.

But I have ever since been racking my brain in vain to recall his features, his general appearance. It is just as if the swirl of the sea had washed clean out of my brain the compartment in which the memory of the man was stored.

It is one of those mysterious tricks of memory for which there is no accounting.

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I cannot describe him. Ada threw back her head, and shook with merriment. Suppose—suppose it was the—High-flyer! He has just such a scar as you describe. He must very likely be in England, then. Now, millionaires hardly steer their own yachts, in a storm, in the dark of the morning, do they?

And yet it is strange, too. And the whole world is gone a-skating. The Princess does it with an exquisite finish, you know; it is one of her manifold accomplishments.

Yesterday we were at Hendon—such a scene! But the lady ice-gliders mostly lacked a certain—something—which I cannot define. It is an art which few English women attain to the perfection of gracefulness seen, for example, in the Princess, probably on account of the rarity of very hard winters among us. But I understand that your Ada was rather—" "Admired?

Of course you were! It is your destiny.

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You are not too knocked up? Then I'll go dress! She returned furred—not too deeply, but just to the annihilating point of wintry suggestiveness. They descended and entered a cab; dined en famille in a private room at a restaurant; and set forth for the Wimbledon Rink. The night-lights of the streets had long begun to glow in the wintry air, themselves wearing a frigid look.

The parched air burned "frore. All you had to do was to lie down in it—and you died. Old Thames, casting back his mind to high old bygone jinks, was hardening his bosom for the roasting of yet another ox; the very gulls that haunted the little icebergs on the river seemed to suffer from cold in the head. The cold is breaking up our free institutions! They met for deliberation over a starved old woman, and almost at once discovered that the room was fireless, unbearable.

The only thing that did not shiver among them was the corpse, which had done its shivering—previously. Even coroners, it seems, are human beings, and the coroner admitted a brumal unease. The upshot was that these seekers of truth disbanded, homewards to their babes, leaving the truth to the company of the cold.

Stefan, just think, a million of them out of work. You perceive the ingenuity of the phrase; it is our very own, and of quite modern invention. But for a nation, by its united wisdom and activities, to invent a million of the actual products; ah, that is not well—not well. Just fancy—quite the largest army in Europe, only waiting for its Napoleon to come along, get into communication with them, collect them, drill them, and lead them upon London; and, hey—presto!

You know I am a very bad Radical. And I quite intend to convert you when we—" "Say it. I think I should like that, too—provided I was the Emperor's Queen.

He had touched on a discord in his Ada's nature. They reached the rink, and in five minutes were among the throng of skating couples. Stefan from of old was a skilled ranger, and Ada had acquired all the arts and graces since her school-girl days in far Pomerania.

The lights of the rink flashed, multiplied a thousandfold in their hurrying eyes, as they forged, and swerved, and skimmed, in delicious harmony of motion, like gulls that sweep, slanting, over the central ocean, wetting an alternate wing in the brine.

Ada was all eyes, pointing out, in whispers, anything specially fine in the figure-skating. A man had appeared among them, thick cloaked, muffled, his face burled in the collar flaps of a great involving coat; a soft wide-brimmed hat over-shading his forehead.

She seemed to know something about him, something in his figure. His face she could not see. The man threw athwart the ice as if ruin and despair were barking at his heels; he went straight; he did not swerve to right or left; fro and to, to and fro, from end to end. The skaters watched for his coming, marked his going, fled when he was near, seized their chance to cross when he was far. Some laughed, others scowled, some stood still, amazed, to look.

He was like the spirit of swiftness, the demon of unrest. They fell in a mass, sliding far over the ice. Stefan was instantly on his feet again. Other skaters had crowded round and blocked his view; and, in fact, the headlong career of Ralloner once broken, the spell of his furious excitement had also been broken, and he had left the rink. Stefan turned to Ada, and took her hand to raise her.

A look of agony was on her face. Oh, do not say sprained! But she fell again. As he lifted her in his arms and bore her away— "Ada.

Mortified, an apology was on the tip of her tongue until she saw who she'd stomped on. I can think of a few ways you could make it up to me for stomping on my foot His eyes seemed glued to her chest. Which was funny since he used to say some rather unflattering things about her body.

He'd made it no secret that he'd found her unappealing. He'd even gone as far as blaming her for his cheating. Spouted some nonsense saying if she only been more attractive and willing to please him, he wouldn't have had to go out and find someone more to his tastes. There'd been a time she had actually believed it too, but not anymore. There is no need for the attitude.

You should see all the admirers you're getting with those legs of yours. You're lucky I'm not a jealous man. She wouldn't admit that had been exactly what she'd done. Are you out here looking for your 'Wesley'? She wanted to just curl up and die. She'd completely forgotten Nayru was close friends with Ralph. The poor misguided girl had even stood up for Ralph when she'd heard what had happened. Nayru had even gone so far as to hint that she should just forgive Ralph. Zelda had no idea what Ralph had done to deserve the girl's loyalty but she hoped for Nayru's sake that Ralph never did anything to destroy it.

Please let me pass. Let me show you how much I've missed you. A blonde man stood behind them. Black jeans and a dark forest green t-shirt clearly outlined a lithe body and Zelda couldn't help but notice the white rag stuck in his back pocket. He must work here, she thought as she met his hard blue eyes. Ralph, always quick on his feet, had used the interruption to throw an arm around her shoulders. She only realized this after he roughly yanked her into his side.

Just settling a small argument with my girlfriend here. She shuddered at the way he was casually touching her. The way he was trying to caress her was making her skin crawl but every time she tried to step away, he pinched her. The stranger had a keen eye. Zelda noticed how his eyes zeroed in on Ralph's hand. Now that we're not fighting, I'd like to take her home. I promised to show her how sorry I was and how badly I want to make it up to her.

This time Zelda yelped when Ralph's fingers dug into her side but he had yet to let her go and she was at a loss as to how to get herself away from him.

How could she have forgotten this part of him? Ralph could be charming when he wanted to be or if it benefited him in some way but he was also very controlling. His favourite trick to get her to go along with him was to pinch her. He'd learned very quickly she'd do pretty much anything to make him stop hurting her. His methods were always discreet and any bruises from his treatment of her were kept to places covered by her clothes.

His hand slid along her waist to the small space between the small of her back and her hip where he could easily pinch her skin and give it a harsh twist. Her body went rigid and she knew, from experience, the spot would be black and blue in the morning. She also knew what the pinch had meant. He wanted her to keep quiet, let him do the talking. Tears welled up in her eyes but she stayed where she was.

She'd forgotten, gone complacent. When Ralph's attentions had shifted elsewhere so had his abuse. Without even being aware of it, Ambi's presence had given her a reprieve. One that allowed her to climb back to her feet and see that this wasn't the type of relationship she wanted. It had given her the courage to run away. It had still broke her heart but tonight she'd gotten the courage to try her luck at love again.

To try to find her "Wesley", to find her "Natsu". The one who would always come for her, no matter what. Zelda blinked, a confused look on her face when her view was replaced by a broad back covered in dark green material.

It took her a minute to realize the stranger had placed himself between her and Ralph. She hadn't realized he was so tall. She tried to look around him but he seemed to sense the movement behind him and moved to block her view.

Her cheeks puffed out in frustration. She wasn't going to let him shield her Standing on her tippy toes, she peeked over his shoulder. Ralph was giving the stranger a bewildered look. He obviously hadn't expected the man to put himself in the middle of a fight that had nothing to do with him.

The black sheathe dress she wore hugged her slim curves and made Zelda feel frumpy. Ralph glowered at the woman when she casually hooked her arm through his. Zelda stepped around the stranger and this time he made no move to block her. She couldn't help the stab of pain she felt at seeing the beautiful woman hanging off Ralph's arm. Perhaps she wasn't quite over him after all, even after all the things he'd put her through.

No wonder he threw you out like yesterday's trash. Maybe Faith could teach you a thing or two. Zelda's could feel her face burning from her blush.

This night was turning into a nightmare and to make things worse? The kind stranger who'd stepped in to help her was about to get his ass kicked. There was no way for him to know that Ralph was a trained black-belt in Taekwondo.

Ralph cracked his knuckles. She didn't want to hear or see this. She didn't want to hear Faith's tinkling laugh either.

She shouldn't have come out tonight but how was she to know that Ralph would come to the Silver Rupee too? There's no need to be afraid. Let him see what he gets to look forward to once he wins?

She took a step away from Faith. Anything to get a little distance between the two of them. Faith's cool attitude completely slipped at the sight of Ralph sprawled out on the floor.

Whoever gave him his black belt should have taught him the dangers of being over confident in your abilities. He mumbled something too incoherent to make out before his body went limp. I'll have you thrown out and-and The stranger looked over his shoulder, a welcoming smile already on his face. Just the Goron I needed! She pivoted around to see that there was indeed a Goron standing behind them.

Their race was known to be tough so it was only natural to employ Gorons for security. Not much could get by that rocky exterior and they were impressively strong. I demand you detain him and call the police! So the stranger's name was Link. Zelda watched Link rock back on his feet with a sheepish look on his face. Darunia sighed and shook his head. Right now I'd like these two," Link pointed to Faith and Ralph's unconscious body still on the floor.

Why are you kicking us out? Faith couldn't see what was so funny but Zelda had gone completely still. There was just no way. She stared at Link. He couldn't be that Link could he? While she was getting ready, Ruto had shoved the paper into her hands as a distraction so she couldn't protest to their make over plans.

She'd given in and had tried to read the paper but had been too distracted to read little more than a few sentences.

One sentence stood out though. The owner of the Silver Rupee was named Link Link turned to her. She was certain he was the Link mentioned in the paper but…what if there was a slight possibility she was wrong?

She glanced over at Darunia. He hadn't moved, even after Faith's little fit. Catching her eyes, Darunia gave an almost indiscernible nod. She smiled, her confidence growing. When Darunia said his boss told him someone was harassing customers, he was talking about you. Should have known you found another damsel in distress to rescue. Was that all she was? She grimaced, yes, that was all she was. A pathetic girl who couldn't even enjoy a single night out on the town.

She glared at Ralph's prone body. If only she hadn't run into him tonight… "See them out Darunia. Faith was too shocked to say anything more as Darunia scooped Ralph off the floor. Throwing the unconscious man over his shoulder, he gestured for Faith to follow him.


I'll have Urbosa call a cab to take you home. I'm afraid you're on your own with moving him but maybe he'll be awake…" The rest of what Darunia said was lost as the trio was swallowed up by the writhing mass of dancers. She hadn't realized Link had moved to her side.

He had a point but where else could she go. If Ruto or Lulu found out what happened there would be no stopping them this time. They would hunt down Ralph and Zelda wasn't so sure if she wanted to stop them.

No, best she went home. There she could regroup, lick her wounds…and maybe clean out the rest of the ice cream in her freezer.

Getting over someone wasn't supposed to be this hard. Especially when the someone was an abusive asshole. Link didn't have to know her plan was to still go home.

Link watched her with a concerned look on his face. Ralph always said she was a terrible liar. It's not that late. Have one drink and I'll have Nabooru call a cab to take you home.

One drink should be alright…right? The gleaming black bar spanned the entire length of the back wall. The top was polished black marble, silver bar stools with dark blue leather sat at intervals in front of the bar. Zelda went to sit at one of the stools but Link gently guided her towards a quiet corner at the end of the bar. A woman, Gerudo judging from her dark complexion and amber eyes, stood behind the bar cleaning a glass.

Her red hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail atop her head but it was her attire that caught Zelda's attention.

Low-riding dark jeans, and a white bandeau top hidden beneath a black vest was the extent of her outfit. Chunky bracelets circling her right wrist were the only pieces of jewelry that Zelda could see and the understated jewelry suited her. When the Gerudo woman winked at her, she blushed. Zelda hadn't realized she'd been caught staring. Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on the bar top and cupped her chin her hands.

She snuck a side glance at Link.