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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"

Soon the sides of the ship grated
along the wharf as she was hauled out, and then the shore warps
were hove on board with a thud above me. I felt the lift of a
little wave and heard the rattle of the halliards as the sail was
hoisted and the ship heeled a little, and then began the cheerful
wash and bubble of the wave at her bows as she went to sea. The men
hailed friends on shore with last jests and farewells, and then
fell to clearing up the shore litter from the decks.
Then Evan came and looked at me. Through the door I could see the
hills and the harbour beyond the high stern, and on that Thorgils
was steering, with his eyes on the vane at the masthead. His men
were coiling down ropes, and Evan's two men were sitting under the
weather gunwale aft, talking with the guards of the princess. She
was in the after cabin, I suppose, out of the way of the wind, with
her maidens. I could not see her.
"Art all well, friend?" said Evan, loudly enough for the nearest
Norseman to hear. "Well, that is good."
Then he sunk his voice to a whisper, and said: "That gag bides in
your mouth, let me tell you. I will risk no more calling to the
shipmaster."
He cast his eyes over me and grunted, and went out, leaving the low
door open so that he could see me at any time. It was plain that he
thought his men had fastened my arm.


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