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The story was, briefly, as follows: A long time ago a Spanish vessel sailed from Manila for Mexico, and east of Japan had by a violent storm been driven toward a small but high-rising island. When the crew went ashore, the island proved to be a country, strange and unknown to anyone; the people being of handsome stature, white skinned, and of good proportions, very affable, and amiably disposed.
In the black shadows thrown by the high-rising moon, the crossing alley-way cut a slice of brilliancy as if with a knife. From the shadow into the moonshine two hands stretched towards her as Ned's voice greeted her. She saw his tall form looming before her. "Ned!" she cried, in answer, grasping both his hands and drawing him forward into the light. "I was expecting you.
It was made of the young jack-oaks felled outwards and their limbs sharp ened till they were like thorns. Frowning behind this fearsome barrier were high-rising forts mounted with cannon, and connected with long, sinuous breastworks. A deep ditch filled with muddy water ran along the foot of the works. Squads of rebels could be seen running back to the shelter of the fortifications.
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