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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Prince of Cornwall A Story of Glastonbury and the West in the Days of Ina of Wessex"


"Better on board than in that litter, poor fellow," he said kindly;
"it is a smooth sea, and we shall see Tenby in no long time if this
breeze holds."
He passed on with a nod and smile, and I could almost have wept in
my rage and despair. I could not have thought of anything more
cruel than this, and there was a sour grin on Evan's face, as if he
knew what was passing in my mind.
Now they lifted me once more and carried me to the ship, setting me
down amidships while they got the bales of goods on board. She was
a stout trading vessel, built for burden more than speed, but she
seemed light in the water, as though she had little cargo for this
voyage. She had raised decks fore and aft, and there were low doors
in the bulkheads below them that seemed to lead to some sort of
cabins. Under the forward of these decks the outlaws began to stow
their bales, the man who had called Thorgils ashore directing them.
I lay just at the gangway, and a little on one side so as not to
block it, and I watched all that went on, helplessly. There was no
one near me, or I think that I should have made some desperate
effort to call a Norseman to my help. Maybe Evan thought me safer
here than nearer the place where all were busy, as yet, but
presently I heard voices on the wharf as if some newcomers were
drawing near, and Evan heard them also, and left his cargo to
hasten to my side.


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