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Updated: June 9, 2025
He is dealing in diamonds, he throws them from one hand to the other like an old miser, and he himself is dying of hunger. It is a fraud, Khorre, a fraud. Let us shout loudly, Khorre, we are alone here." He shouts, turning to the thundering organ: "Eh, musician! Even a fly cannot rise on your wings, even the smallest fly cannot rise on your wings. Eh, musician!
"Silence! Rascal!" "I? Noni! Your nurse? You squealed like a little pig in the cook's room. Have you forgotten it, Noni?" mutters the sailor plaintively. "Eh," shouts Haggart to the stern crowd. "Take him!" Several men advance to him. Khorre rises. "If you do it to me, to your own nurse then you have recovered, Noni! Eh, obey the captain! Take me! I'll make you cry enough, Tommy!
There is no ship there is nothing! Who is coming?" He seizes his revolver. The fire in the fire-place is burning faintly; the shadows are tossing about but two of these shadows are darker than the others and they are walking. Khorre shouts: "Halt!" A man's voice, heavy and deep, answers: "Hush! Put down your weapons. I am the abbot of this place." "Fire, Noni, fire! They have come for you."
Khorre steps forward and speaks, glancing at Haggart askance: "I had a little talk with them, Noni they are all right, they are good fellows, Noni. Only the priest but he is a good man, too am I right, Noni? Don't look so crossly at me, or I'll mix up the whole thing! You see, kind people, it's this way: this man, Haggart, and I have saved up a little sum of money, a little barrel of gold.
People say that all this trouble comes through him." Several voices are heard: "Through him. Send him away, Gart! It will be better for him!" The abbot upholds them. "True!" "You, too, priest!" says Khorre, gruffly. Haggart looks with a faint smile at his angry, bristled face, and says: "I rather feel like sending him away. Let him go."
Hello, abbot," says Haggart with indifference, and resumes examining the little ship. Khorre mutters: "That's the way, be firm, Noni." "Who made this toy?" asks Haggart, but no one replies. "Hello, Gart!" says Mariet, smiling. "It is I, your wife, Mariet. Let me untie your hands." With a smile, pretending that she does not notice the stains of blood, she unfastens the ropes.
"Take them all away! Boatswain! Whistle for everybody to go aboard. The time is up! Flerio! Get the boats ready." "Yes, yes." Khorre whistles. The sailors disperse unwillingly, and the same threatening voice sounds somewhere from the darkness: "I thought at first it was the dead man who started to speak. But I would have answered him too: 'Lie there! The rope broke."
I should go away, far away on land, where the people don't know the sea at all, where the people have never heard about the sea a thousand miles away, five thousand miles away!" "There is no such land." "There is, Khorre. Let us drink and laugh, Khorre. That organist lies. Sing something for me, Khorre you sing well. In your hoarse voice I hear the creaking of ropes.
I have nothing to throw into the sea." "But your hands are in blood." "Silence, Khorre! He will commence soon. Be silent and listen I say to you Are you a friend to me or not, Khorre?" He drags him closer to the dark window of the church. Khorre mutters: "How dark it is. If you raised me out of bed for this accursed music " "Yes, yes; for this accursed music."
You are always the mischief-maker!" Grim laughter. Several sailors surround Khorre as Haggart watches them sternly. A dissatisfied voice says: "There is no place where to hang him here. There isn't a single tree around." "Let us wait till we get aboard ship! Let him die honestly on the mast." "I know of a tree around here, but I won't tell you," roars Khorre hoarsely. "Look for it yourself!
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