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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"Poison Island"

' 'Man or
woman?' I asked. 'Man,' said he, 'and a d--d drunk one'--saving your
presence, ladies. I pricked up my ears. 'Drunk?' I asked. How
drunk?' 'Drunk enough to near-upon drown himself,' said the
ferryman. 'It was this way, sir: I'd scarcely finished mooring the
boat again, and was turning to go indoors, when I heard a splash,
t'other side of the creek, where; the path comes down under the loom
of the trees, and, next moment, a voice as if some person was
drowning and guggling for help. So I fit and unmoored again, and
pushed across for dear life, just in time to see a man scrambling
ashore. He was as drunk as a fly, sir, even after his wetting.
Said he was a retired seaman living at Penzance, had come round to
Falmouth on a lime-barge bound for the Truro river, and must get
along to St. Austell in time to attend his sister's wedding there
next morning. Told me his sister's name, but I forget it. Said he'd
fallen in with some brave fellows at Falmouth just returned from the
French war-prisons, and had taken a glass or two. Gave me half a
crown when I brought him over and landed him,' said the ferryman,
'and too far gone in liquor to understand the mistake if I'd
explained it to him, which I didn't.


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