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Updated: May 19, 2025
But when he sought his bed, and threw aside his outer garment, there on his coarse, rough shirt of hodden gray a pearl gleamed white above his heart, where the wraith's cold hand had touched him. It was the token to the king that he had answered faithfully his call.
Ferne rowed slowly, with a mind that was not for Robin, nor the glory of the tropic morning, nor the shock of yesterday, nor the night's despair. He looked ahead, devising means to an end, and his brows were yet bent in thought when the boat touched the Sea Wraith's side.
"I have never left England!" the vision answered. Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. "Never left England?" she repeated, in tones which did not seem to be hers. The wraith's stony eyes stared on, but there was silence. "Where have you been then?" she asked in her dream. "Very near you," came the answer. "There has been foul play then!" she shrieked.
All things had been patiently cared for by the man who, selling his patrimony, had labored against wind and tide to the end that he might carry forth with him such an armament as scarce had been the Cygnet's own. Tier on tier rose the Sea Wraith's ordnance; she carried warlike stores of all sorts that might serve for battle by sea or land.
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