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Richardson, John, 1796-1852

"Wacousta : a tale of the Pontiac conspiracy (Complete)"


He has an ocean of blood upon his soul, that all the
waters of the Huron can never wash out!"
Struck by the vehement manner of the officer, and the
disclosure he had just made, the sailors sunk once more
into inaction and silence. The boatswain alone spoke.
"I thought, your honour, as how Jack Fuller, who sartainly
is a better hand at a snooze than a watch, had got into
a bit of a mess; but, shiver my topsails, if I think it's
quite fair to blame him, neither, for clapping a stopper
on the Indian's cable, seeing as how he was expecting a
shot between wind and water. Still, as the chap turns
out to be an honest chap, and has saved your honour's
life above all, I don't much care if I give him a grip.
Here, old fellow, tip us your fist!"
Without seeming to understand that his cry had been
productive of general and intense alarm throughout the
vessel, the Indian had viewed the sudden rushing of the
crew towards him as an act of gratuitous hostility; and,
without shrinking from the attack, had once more resumed
his original air of dogged sullenness. It was evident
to him, from the discussion going on, that some violence,
about to be offered to his person, had only been prevented
by the interference of the officer.


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