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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Headsman The Abbaye des Vignerons"

But Sigismund motioned all away from himself,
knowing that their cares were needed elsewhere. He staggered forward a
few paces, and then, yielding to a complete exhaustion of his power, he
fell at full length on the wet planks. He long lay panting, speechless,
and unable to move, with a sense of death on his frame.
"Nettuno! gallant, gallant Nettuno!"--shouted the indefatigable Maso,
still at his post on the gangway, whence he cast his rope with unchanging
perseverance. The fitful winds, which had already played so many fierce
antics that eventful night, sensibly lulled, and, giving one or two sighs,
as if regretting that they were about to be curbed again by that almighty
Master, from whose benevolent hands they had so furtively escaped, as
suddenly ceased blowing. The yards creaked, swinging loosely, above the
crowded deck, and the dull washing of water filled the ear. To these
diminished sounds were to be added the barking of the dog, who was still
abroad in the darkness, and a struggling noise like the broken and
smothered attempts of human voices. Although the time appeared an age to
all who awaited the result, scarcely five minutes had elapsed since the
accident occurred and the hurricane had reached them.


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