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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"

But still I could not lose
hope, for Thorgils might yet wish to see me, or the princess might
send her men to look in on me. There were more chances now than a
little while ago, as I thought.
I began to think over all that were possible, presently, and I
tried to get the gag from my mouth. I could not reach it with my
free hand, however, my elbows being too tightly fastened back even
after all the shaking of the journey. Then I thrust that free hand
and forearm well among the bandages across my chest, so that either
of my captors who thought of it might think that the other had
bound it, for I dared not try to loosen myself more yet. There
would be time for that when we were fairly at sea.
After that I lay still, and so spied the bale in which my sword had
been put, and that gave me some sort of hope by its nearness to me,
though indeed it did not seem likely that I should ever get it.
I heard Thorgils come on board before very long, and I could hear
also the voice of the princess as she talked to him, though with
the length of the vessel between us, and the wash of the ripples
alongside in my ears, I did not make out if they spoke of me. Evan
spoke with them also, and it is likely that they did so.
Presently I could tell by the sway of the ship that she was afloat,
and the men began to bustle about the deck overhead, while Thorgils
shouted some orders now and then.


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