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Updated: May 31, 2025
Old Yare wandered through the great loom-rooms of the mill with but one fact clear in his cloudy, faltering perception, that above him the man lay quietly sleeping who would bring worse than death on him to-morrow.
The Danes had been beaten utterly at Norwich. Ralph de Guader and his Frenchmen had fought like lions. They had killed many Danes in the assault on the castle. They had sallied out on them as they recoiled, and driven them into the river, drowning many more. The Danes had gone down the Yare again, and out to sea northward, no man knew whither.
No one goes there, although there are many firesides where they speak of "Lois" softly, as of something holy and dear: but they think of her always as not there; as gone home; even old Yare looks up, when he talks of "my girl."
Now I shall tell thee that we have striven to beat, so as not to be driven off our course, but all would not avail, wherefore for these three hours we have been running before the wind; but, fair sir, so big hath been the sea that but for our ship being of the stoutest, and our men all yare, we had all grown exceeding wise concerning the ground of the mid-main. Praise be to St.
BOATSWAIN. Here, master; what cheer? MASTER. Good, speak to the mariners: fall to 't, yarely, or we run ourselves to ground; bestir, bestir! BOATSWAIN. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master's whistle.... Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try wi' the main course.... Lay her a-hold, a-hold! Set her two courses.
The Rio Guayra rises in the group of primitive mountains of Higuerote, which separates the valley of Caracas from that of Aragua. It is formed near Las Ajuntas, by the junction of the little rivers of San Pedro and Macarao, and runs first eastward as far as the Cuesta of Auyamas, and then southward, uniting its waters with those of the Rio Tuy, below Yare.
Off to sea again; lay her off. That will do, for the present; let us yare a little, now, for a change.
But here he was in this town in the East, where he didn't know anybody and where there was no place to go but the movies. "'Lo, buddy," came a voice beside him. The tall youth who had sat opposite at mess was just catching up to him. "Goin' to the movies?" "Yare, nauthin' else to do." "Here's a rookie.
What brooding brown eyes the poor cripple had! Not many years ago he would have sat down with the two poor souls and made a hearty meal of it: he had no heart for such follies now. Old Yare stood in the background, his hat in his hand, stooping in his submissive negro fashion, with a frightened watch on Holmes. "Do you stay here, Lois?" he asked, kindly, turning his back on the old man.
Later in the evening you would see a man coming along, close by the wall, with his head down, the same Margret had seen in the mill, a dark man, with gray, thin hair, Joe Yare, Lois's old father. No one spoke to him, people always were looking away as he passed; and if old Mr. or Mrs. Polston were on the steps when he came up, they would say, "Good-evening, Mr.
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