D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

The Petrel. 49 This rider had debouched from the southwest upon the salt marshes. He halted, went on again, and halted, like one who did not perceive expected landmarks. If he pushed on, it was spurred by growing uneasiness and disconcertion. Indeed, no doubt having seen Las Salinas in its high days, he was pained by the devastation. Where were inn, storehouses, sheds over the drying beds, where the pans, where the crystals glittering like crushed pearls in the merry sun? After various stoppages, moaning to himself like a bereaved one on a battlefield, strewn with the slain, this broken-spirited traveler reached the group of hovels where children and matrons were splitting newly-caught fish for curing, on a very small scale as compared with the former one—intending to smoke them instead of using salt. “What are your wishes, sir?” cried the oldest woman, a wave and wind-shaken hag, in whose wrinkles shone grease and brine; she had gray ‘hair, but was strong as a man. “The inn! The Black Petrel?”’ he returned, looking about him as if he ‘hoped he was only suffering from sun or sand blindness. “There is no inn, sir!” “Please your honor, the Pe-te-rel has flown away!” lisped a bright child, roguishly. “Hold your tongue, imp! The inn and all our houses have been swept away by the broom of Beelzebub!” “What, a whirlywind ?” “Of the landsmen’s contriving—those landsharks “Landsharks?” looking round as if expecting to see a marine nondescript. “They left nothing to sole a shoe with, or fill a sea snail’s pack.”’ “You must be mad—or drunk!” “Drunk! it is drunk on starved mice, then! We had nothing to gnash but driftwood !” “Pray, make clear. What are the landsharks?” “Ho, ho, ho!” chorused the urchins, “he does not know what landsharks are!” and then they drew off to a dis- tance, losing all interest in this ignoramus. ; 99 ! Connicaoolks (C@) in