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Scott, Michael, 1789-1835

"Tom Cringle's Log"


"He never left my side from the time he offered to take your place after
you had been wounded."
He fell back against the locker as if he had been shot through the
heart. His grasp relaxed, he drew his breath very hard, and I thought
he had fainted.
"Then it was not him that stood by me; I thought it might have been him,
but I was a fool, it was impossible."
He made a desperate effort to recover his composure, and succeeded.
"And, pray, Master Obediah," quoth I, "what did you see?"
He answered me sharply--"Never mind, never mind--here, Potomac, lend us
a hand to sling a cot for this gentleman; there now, see the lanyard is
sound, and the lacing all tight and snug--now put that mattrass into it,
and there is linen in the chest."
In a trice my couch was rigged, all comfortable, snow--white linen, nice
pillow, soft mattrass, &c. and Obed, filling me another tumbler, helped
himself also; he then drank to my health, wished me a sound sleep,
promised to call me at daylight, and as he left the cabin he said, "Mr
Cringle, had it been my object to have injured you, I would not have
waited until now. You are quite safe so far as depends on me, so take
your rest--good night, once more."
I tumbled into bed, and never once opened my eyes until Obed called me
at daylight, that is, at five in the morning, according to his promise.
By this time we were well in with the Cuba shore; the land might be two
miles from us, as we could see the white surf.


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