“This mother is going to make us rich.” Gert scanned the trawler's weather-beaten deck; his bloodshot eyes alight with the gleam of a gambler who has nothing left to lose, but somehow is still at the table. He had been pushing the trawler closer to the smoking thunder of the Atlantic surf, all week, in the hope of finding a seam of diamond bearing gravel too shallow for the bigger commercial boats that worked Namibia's Skeleton Coast. “Does that mean I'll finally get paid?” asked Dave, his cocky grin fading a moment later as he pulled on the wetsuit, still clammy from yesterday's dive. “You just get the gravel vac going and let me sort the diamonds.” Gert settled his bulk against the rusty capstan and scratched his salty stubble. “Think I'll light me a white pipe while I sort.” Oh great; mandrax, thought Dave. Apartheid's last poisonous gift to the world just kept on giving. Gert would either be passed out or in a murderous rage by the time he surfaced. He strapped on the bulky Kirby Morgan bandmask favoured by commercial divers and clipped in the comms line; not that Gert would be listening anyway. He crashed into the oily, green sea ina cloud of bubbles and gasped as the nine degree water found its way into his wetsuit. Descending the vacuum line he grinned. Gert had it right, they were on a solid seam of kimberlite; there had to be diamonds in there. Dave worked the seam for an hour until he felt rather than heard a rumbling. He moved backwards just in time as the overhang of gravel he had been mining collapsed; time to call it a morning and see what Gert had found in the gravel sieve. Dave dropped his gear and pulled on tattered denims and a t-shirt. He strolled to the sieve rig and noticed that Gert had left a sizable pile... ... middle of paper ... ...s ears were still ringing. His ear was going to need attention. The dizziness faded enough for Dave to look up. Gert lay next to him with his head a bloody ruin. That last desperate shove had saved him. He picked up Gert's water bottle and drank long, greedy draughts; his thirst making a mockery of his reluctance to drink from a dead man's water bottle. Satisfied, he tore strips off Gert's shirt and bound his ear and leg. Still weak with shock, he turned and looked down the endless beach to where Port Nolloth lay beyond the horizon. It was a long walk and there were guard posts at the edge of the Diamond Area that would hand out a lengthy prison sentence if he was caught with a diamond, but there were ways of avoiding that and friends in town who could help him get to Joburg where he would sell the diamond. Perhaps he would end up being paid for this job after all.
...redge, a vacuum-like machine used to suck up sand. He dredged around the hard surface, and realized it actually was the H.L. Hunley. Pecorelli surfaced again, but when he went down again, he was joined by Hall and Wilbanks, who each had a dredge. They uncovered as much of the Hunley they could just to make sure it actually was the Hunley, and then covered it back up so nothing would look suspicious, and went back to shore.
Chronicler unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a dull ring of metal hanging from a leather cord. “Just iron, sir.”
George started, "Don't worry about hurting this bar. It's rock maple, hardest wood known. Why back in the early days we were even thinking of using this as a heat shield on the early Mercury test flights. But somebody's cousin had some political connections so..."
Throughout this mining process a byproduct is created called chat. The chat is leftover rock and waste from mining that did not contained the desired materials. The chat was left on the site because the Bureau of Indian Affairs thought it could be of value to the Quapaw tribe (1). This chat contained high levels of toxic lead and other harmful chemicals. It is estimated that there are 75 Million tons (150 billion pounds) of chat piles remaining exposed to the environment as well as numerous flotation ponds that haven’t been taken into account (4).
“Really?” Alex asked skeptically. “How do you plan on doing that? I don’t exactly have any money on me.”
“Yeah, these kids must have robbed a store or some shit like that.” He assumes, and pays the boys no never mind, climbing into the dumpsters on a mission. “Dam,” he mumbles, “I’ve struck paydirt, I should get at least five bucks
“Hm?” Johnny replied as he turned around. “Oh, that old thing? You don’t want that piece of crap. It’s just a bag with a bunch of secret compartments. But it’s all beat up now. You can just drop it off in the garbage on our way out.”
“You-you-let m-me go!” the older merchant croaks. The young sailor drags him to the edge of the dock. The sounds of crashing waves with the potent smell of salt triggers the merchant to flail. He gets put on the edge. He looks down.
With regards to your first paragraph, you are right on point. Excellent perception. Understanding in life there are always three sides of every story, it is impossible to keep everyone happy even when the result appears to be positive. Think about when planning a wedding and how exciting a wedding is and how this time in a couple's life ends up causing so many problems, heartaches, and many times destroys not only friendships, families, but also results in the marriage never taking place after all is said and done. The point I bring to the table about being a liar for educational purposes is from experience I know students are concerned with offending each other so instead of voicing their opinions openly they simply agree with everything their classmate's write. This procedure serves absolutely no valuable educational purpose if everyone agrees with each other even when they disagree with what they wrote. This is why I openly offer your classmates and you to write whatever you want about me. I will not get offended and I actually encourage you to DISAGREE with anything and everything I write, but I ask that you defend you position with facts. And if you choose not to disagree with me - I WILL DISAGREE WITH YOU! Understand, there is nothing you can write that will actually offend me, but I do ask that you not purposefully offend your classmates. (In class I openly say things to the students so they know I'm okay with being challenged verbally and while I cannot illustrate that to your class and you on a discussion board, accept that it is acceptable.)
“Here, take some of my coins as a memory.” He said, digging his arm into one of his sacks.
"Ah, bags of holding, no wonder it is taking so long. Lucky guy is gonna have some pretty valuable fashion to tote around."