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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"


There was a stout post which came from beneath and through the
rough flooring of the cabin on which I lay, and went upward to the
deck. I daresay it was to make the cable fast to, but I could not
see that, nor did it matter to me what it might be for. But what I
had felt was a heavy angle iron that was bolted by one arm to the
post and by the other to a thick beam that crossed the ship from
side to side, so as to bind the two together. It had a sharp edge
on the part which crossed the floor, and it seemed to me as if it
had been set there on purpose, for if I could manage to reach it
rightly I might chafe through the cords at my back. Of course,
there was the chance of Evan coming in and seeing what I was at,
but I could keep my covering on me, maybe, and if Thorgils came, so
much the better. He would see that something was amiss.
It was no easy task to get myself in such wise that the cord was
fairly on the edge of the iron, but I did it at last, and,
moreover, I got the thick blanket that was over me to cover me
afresh. Then I started to try to chafe the cord through, and of
course I could only move a little at a time, and I could not be
sure that I was always rubbing it on the same place. And the great
post was sorely in my way, over my shoulder more or less, so that I
must needs hurt myself now and then against it.


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