Great mosquitoes whined about his head and stung his neck and ears. Mottled flies bit him and left a burning smart. The saw-like edges of the grass cut his hands and strove to trip him as he pushed his improvised raft forward. Once his foot slipped on the greasy bog, and the quicksands all but claimed him. But he pushed on, reaching at last the black sullen shallows, putrid and ill-smelling with decayed growth, and alive with hideous insects.,
Whilst they were coming Captain Weaver said to Captain Acton: "The master of that brig, sir, seems to have his wife aboard.",
When he returned O'Dule was seated on the edge of the table, his feet on a stool. He was taking a long sup from the demijohn..
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