Black Bartlemy's Treasure by Jeffery Farnol
page 11 of 501 (02%)
page 11 of 501 (02%)
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was he sore wounded and so weak withal that he was fain to rest
him awhile. And ever his impassive eyes looked up into mine the while I nerved myself to meet the blow unflinching (an it might be so). Once more he raised himself, his arm lifted slowly, the dagger gleamed and fell, its keen edge severing the cords that bound me, and with a sudden effort I broke free and stood staring down into those impassive eyes as one in a dream. Then, lifting a feeble hand, he pointed to the tattered sails of the English ship hard by, and so, resting his head upon his arm as one that is very weary, he sighed; and with the sigh I think the life passed out of him. Turning, I was upon the quarter-railing in a single leap, and, without a glance at the red havoc behind me, I plunged over and down. The sharp sting of the brine struck me like a myriad needle- points, but the sweet cool of the waters was wondrous grateful to my sun-scorched body as, coming to the surface, I struck out for the English ship though sore hampered by my chain. Presently coming beneath her lofty stern I found hanging therefrom a tangle of ropes and cordage whereby I contrived to clamber aboard, and so beheld a man in a red seaman's bonnet who sat upon the wreckage of one of the quarter guns tying up a splinter-gash in his arm with hand and teeth; perceiving me he rolled a pair of blue eyes up at me and nodded: "Welcome aboard, lad!" says he, having knotted the bandage to his liking. "Be ye one as can understand good English?" |
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