D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 104: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Messenger. 95 “But what mountains, save of water, and what Regu- lus ‘have you at hand for the roll down hill?” “Manuel!” called the skipper, without direct reply. His supercargo saluted. He was a dreamy, studious clerk, resolved for his fate, perhaps, but his sallow com- plexion was greenish and unpleasant; his eyes kept flit- ting, and ‘watered. “Boy,” said the master, solemnly, “you have been un- der my eye and hand, both tender to you, so long that it would take an age to even up. But you can repay me in a few thours. You are young, lasting, patient. You may survive tossing in that tierce, and be hurled upon the shore better than your elders.” “Oh, this is our Regulus?” muttered the French envoy, studying the student. The latter did not relish this narrow means of escape. But one could guess that he was glad to escape the all- comprising doom. “It is but a coffin, but even a coffin may buoy up a man —fit, too, the coffin, since it will contain the secret for which we were all prepared for the grave.” The young man twitched his ears and his dull eyes blazed. He seemed to be nearer an end weighing upon him. He gave D’Artagnan a brief and not benevolent glance. “This is a good day,” said he, unctuously, “for an act of faith,’ wringing his hands; “the day of the Commemo- ration of the Winding Sheet!” “Tt is?” queried Pedro, scoffingly. “We have hit to a dot, lads! We shall be shrouded in the greatest pall ever woven by the Three Grim Spinsters! Behold the warp!” His finger indicated the West. For three parts of the vault there was impenetrability. No worlds beyond. Incessant rolling of thunder was not once preceded by a glint of lightning, and yet such a din perpetually threat- ened the flash. It was this ceaseless expectancy which snapped the nerves. Near the horizon, but undulating so as to mislead the observer, a grey line was now and again phosphorescent. It was the ridge of surge running before the hollow where the hurricane scooped up the waters thirty feet under. All was churned, seethed, compacted, and yet CORnicloooxKxs (C(O) im