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Crisis, the — Volume 05 by Winston Churchill
page 90 of 106 (84%)
William cackled again. He made a place for her on the leather-padded seat
at the back of the pilot house, where for a long time she sat staring at
the flag trembling on the jackstaff between the great sombre pipes. The
sun fell down, but his light lingered in the air above as the big boat
forged abreast the foreign city of South St. Louis. There was the
arsenal--grim despite its dress of green, where Clarence was confined
alone.

Captain Lige came in from his duties below. "Well, Jinny, we'll soon be
at home," he said. "We've made a quick trip against the rains."

"And--and do you think the city is safe?"

"Safe!" he cried. "As safe as London!" He checked himself. "Jinny, would
you like to blow the whistle?"

"I should just love to," said Virginia. And following Mr. Jenks's
directions she put her toe on the tread, and shrank back when the monster
responded with a snort and a roar. River men along the levee heard that
signal and laughed. The joke was certainly not on sturdy Elijah Brent.

An hour later, Virginia and her aunt and the Captain, followed by Mammy
aster and Rosetta and Susan, were walking through the streets of the
stillest city in the Union. All that they met was a provost's guard, for
St. Louis was under Martial Law. Once in a while they saw the light of
some contemptuous citizen of the residence district who had stayed to
laugh. Out in the suburbs, at the country houses of the first families,
people of distinction slept five and six in a room--many with only a
quilt between body and matting. Little wonder that these dreamed of
Hessians and destruction. In town they slept with their doors open, those
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