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Chapter 6
“Ay,”saidHoseason,withasuddengrimness,“that’sthepoint.”
IfeltIwaslost.Withallmystrength,Ipluckedmyselfclearofhimandrantothebulwarks.Sureenough,therewastheboatpullingforthetown,withmyunclesittinginthestern.Igaveapiercingcry—“Help,help!Murder!”—sothatbothsidesoftheanchoragerangwithit,andmyuncleturnedroundwherehewassitting,andshowedmeafacefullofcrueltyandterror.
ItwasthelastIsaw.Alreadystronghandshadbeenpluckingmebackfromtheship’sside;andnowathunderboltseemedtostrikeme;Isawagreatflashoffire,andfellsenseless.
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