When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. . "Sir Cecil is no more. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. ’ ‘Ha! You’re Catholic, too, damn his eyes,’ growled the general.
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