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Updated: June 25, 2025
Frank saw the movement, and would have hastened to avenge the death of his friend before the assassin could fire again. But he was out of caps, and must borrow. Tucket's gun was ready. "'Die thou shalt, gray-headed ruffian!" Seth shouted the words up at the man in the tree, and lying on his back, brought the butt of his gun to his shoulder, aimed heavenward, and fired.
"This is what they call the sacred soil!" observed Harris. "Just the thing, I should say, to breed rattle-snakes and rebels." "I swan to man!" chimed in Tucket's voice from a distance, for his long legs had given him an advantage in the general race, "there ain't no shore after ye get to't. It's nothin' but salt ma'sh, all trod to pudd'n' by the fellers that have been in ahead of us.
"Winch don't know the Lady of the Lake from the Bible!" chimes in Tucket's high nasal voice. "Yes, I do, too! The Lady of the Lake, that's one of Bryon's poems! S'pose I don't know?" "O, perfectly!" sneers Ellis, amid the laughter Jack's blunder elicits. "And no doubt you'll soon find out who the cowards are among us, if you don't know already."
He clung to the rail of the schooner, and every time it went down, and every time it came up, he seemed to grow dizzier and sicker than ever. He consoled himself by reflecting that he was only one of hundreds on hoard, who were, or had been, in the same condition; and when he was sickest he could not help laughing at Seth Tucket's inexhaustible drollery.
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