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Excerpt: 'The morning was hot, and Kit Musgrave, leaning on the African liner's rail, watched the volcanic rocks of Grand Canary grow out of the silver haze. He was conscious of some disappointment, because on the voyage to Las Palmas he had pictured a romantic white city shining against green palms. Its inhabitants were grave Spaniards, who secluded their wives and daughters in old Moorish houses with shady patios where fountains splashed. Now he saw he had got the picture wrong. Las Palmas was white, but not at all romantic. A sandy isthmus, swept by rolling clouds of dust, connected the…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
Excerpt: 'The morning was hot, and Kit Musgrave, leaning on the African liner's rail, watched the volcanic rocks of Grand Canary grow out of the silver haze. He was conscious of some disappointment, because on the voyage to Las Palmas he had pictured a romantic white city shining against green palms. Its inhabitants were grave Spaniards, who secluded their wives and daughters in old Moorish houses with shady patios where fountains splashed. Now he saw he had got the picture wrong. Las Palmas was white, but not at all romantic. A sandy isthmus, swept by rolling clouds of dust, connected the town and the frankly ugly port. The houses round the harbor looked like small brown blocks. Behind them rose the Isleta cinder hill; in front, coal-wharfs and limekilns, hidden now and then by dust, occupied the beach. Moreover, the Spaniards on board the boats about the ship were excited, gesticulating ruffians. Bombay peddlers, short, dark-skinned Portuguese, and Canario dealers in wine, tobacco, and singing birds, pushed up the gangway. All disputed noisily in their eagerness to show their goods to the passengers. Yet Kit was not altogether disappointed. Somehow the industrial ugliness of the port and the crowd's businesslike activity were soothing. Kit had not known much romantic beauty, but he knew the Lancashire mining villages and the mean streets behind the Liverpool docks. Besides, he was persuaded that commerce, particularly British commerce, had a civilizing, uplifting power.'

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Autorenporträt
Harold Bindloss was an English novelist who published a number of adventure tales set in western Canada, as well as in England and West Africa. His writing was mostly based on his own experiences as a seaman, dock worker, farmer, and planter. Bindloss was born on April 6, 1866 in Wavertree, Liverpool, England. The eldest son of Edward Williams Bindloss, an iron dealer who employed six men at the time of the 1881 census. Bindloss has three sisters and four brothers. He spent several years at sea and in several colonies, most notably in Africa, before returning to England in 1896, his health ravaged by malaria. He appears to have started out as a clerk in a shipping office, but this did not suit his adventurous nature, and he later became a farmer in Canada, a sailor, a dock worker, and a planter. He returned to England in 1896, likely from West Africa, afflicted with malaria. Given that he spent more than a decade at sea and in the colonies, it is likely that his time overseas was divided into two parts: first as a youth, and then as a young man after 1891.