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Updated: June 18, 2025
Javel, junior, had sunk on his knees, his teeth clenched, his eyes haggard. He did not utter a word. His brother came back to him, in dread of the sailor's knife. "Wait, wait," he said. "We will let down the anchor." They cast anchor, and then began to turn the capstan to loosen the moorings of the net. They loosened them at length and disengaged the imprisoned arm, in its bloody woolen sleeve.
The two brothers, side by side, led the procession; the parish beadle carried the corpse under his arm. Javel, junior, gave up the sea. He obtained a small position on the dock, and when he subsequently talked about his accident, he would say confidentially to his auditors: "If my brother had been willing to cut away the net, I should still have my arm, that is sure.
The two brothers, side by side, led the procession; the parish beadle carried the corpse under his arm. Javel, junior, gave up the sea. He obtained a small position on the dock, and when he subsequently talked about his accident, he would say confidentially to his auditors: "If my brother had been willing to cut away the net, I should still have my arm, that is sure.
They covered it with salt, and then put back the fish one by one. One of the sailors said by way of joke: "I hope we do not sell it at auction." And everyone laughed, except the two Javels. The wind was still boisterous. They tacked within sight of Boulogne until the following morning at ten o'clock. Young Javel continued to bathe his wound.
Our correspondent writes: "A fearful accident has thrown our sea-faring population, which has suffered so much in the last two years, into the greatest consternation. The fishing smack commanded by Captain Javel, on entering the harbor was wrecked on the rocks of the harbor breakwater.
If the poor man tossed about in the waves and dead, perhaps, beneath his wrecked boat, is the one I am thinking of, he took part, just eighteen years ago, in another tragedy, terrible and simple as are all these fearful tragedies of the sea. Javel, senior, was then master of a trawling smack. The trawling smack is the ideal fishing boat.
As the sun rose the English coast was again visible, but, as the weather had abated a little, they turned back towards the French coast, tacking as they went. Towards evening Javel, junior, called his comrades and showed them some black spots, all the horrible tokens of mortification in the portion of the arm below the broken bones. The sailors examined it, giving their opinion.
"In spite of the efforts of the life boat and the shooting of life lines from the shore four sailors and the cabin boy were lost. "The rough weather continues. Fresh disasters are anticipated." Who is this Captain Javel? Is he the brother of the one-armed man?
"You must throw that into the sea at once," said his brother. But Javel, junior, got angry. "Oh, no! Oh, no! I don't want to. It belongs to me, does it not, as it is my arm?" And he took and placed it between his feet. "It will putrefy, just the same," said the older brother. Then an idea came to the injured man.
If the poor man tossed about in the waves and dead, perhaps, beneath his wrecked boat, is the one I am thinking of, he took part, just eighteen years ago, in another tragedy, terrible and simple as are all these fearful tragedies of the sea. Javel, senior, was then master of a trawling smack. The trawling smack is the ideal fishing boat.
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