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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"

Evan was up now, and cheering on the men on deck to
attack me, but not seeming to care to lead them. They gathered
together and came aft to me slowly, planning, as it would seem, how
best to attack me, for the steering deck on which I was raised me
four feet or so above them. The men on shore could not reach me at
all unless I got too near the gunwale, when some of them who had
spears might easily end me.
Something alongside the ship caught my eyes, and I glanced at it
with a thought that here might be fresh foes. But it was only the
little boat that belonged to the ship. The wind had caught her, and
was drifting her at the length of her painter as if she wanted to
cross the cove to its far side. Perhaps the men saw that my eyes
were not on them for that moment, for they made a rush from the
deck to climb the steering platform.
Then I had a good fight for a few minutes, until I swept them back
to their place. Two had won to the deck beside me, and there they
stayed. Now I had a hope that the men on shore would come round to
the ship and leave the way clear for me, but Evan called to them to
bide where they were. He had not faced me yet, and I bade him do
so, telling him that this was his affair, and that it was nidring
to risk other men's lives to save his own skin. But even that would
not bring him on me.


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