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... end their days in some marsh - dyke . It was desirable that someone well
known in our parts should see them to the seashore . A boat , there , was to take
them out into the bay , where an outward - bound West Indiaman would pick them
And then old Rangsley hove to , to wait for the ship , and sat half asleep , lurching
over the tiller . He was a very unreliable scoundrel . The boat leaked like a sieve .
The wind freshened , and we three began to ask ourselves how it was going to ...
At last , well out , a blue gleam caught our eyes ; but by this time old Rangsley
was helpless , and it fell to me to manage the boat . Carlos was of no use — he
knew it , and , without saying a word , busied himself in bailing the water out .
Our boat went down under us whilst I was tying a rope under Carlos ' arms . He
was standing up with the baler still in his hand . On board , the women
passengers were screaming , and as I clung desperately to the rope that was
thrown me , it ...
Queer - looking boats crawled between the shores like tiny water beetles . One
headed out towards us , then another . I did not want them to reach us . It was as
if I did not wish my solitude to be disturbed , and I was not pleased with the idea
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LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - ToddSherman - LibraryThing
“And on this ghostly sigh, on this breath, with the feeble click of beads in the nun’s hands, a silence fell upon the room, vast as the stillness of a world of unknown faiths, loves, beliefs, of ... Read full review