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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"


Now the men whom I had seen coming down from the cliffs' top had
hurried to see what all the shouting meant, and I saw that they
were well-armed warriors and mostly spearsmen. Evan cried to them
to come and help, and they ranged up alongside. He told them that I
was a Norseman who had gone berserk, and must needs be slain.
"That is easily managed," said the leader. "Get to your bows, men."
I saw half a dozen unslinging them, and I knew that without shield
I was done, and in that moment a thought came to me. I suppose that
danger sharpens one's wits, for I saw that in the little boat was
my last chance. I had not time to draw her to the side, and so I
cut her painter, which was fast to a cleat close to me, and as I
did so the first arrow missed my head.
Then I shouted and leapt from the high stern straight among the
crowd at Evan, felling one of his outlaw comrades as I lit on the
deck. But I could not reach him, and in a few seconds I should have
been surrounded. So I cleared a way to the seaward side and went
overboard, amid a howl from my foes. I thought that I should never
stop sinking, for I had forgotten my mail; but I came to the
surface close to the ship, and looked for the boat. She was
drifting gently away from me, and I knew that I should have all
that I could do to reach her before the bowmen got to work again
from the ship's deck.


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