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Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge), 1825-1900

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"

I won't
serve under him no more, nor Captain Charcoal either. I have done my
duty by you. Squire Carne, the same as you did by me, sir; and thanking
you for finding me work so long, my meaning is to go upon the search
to-morrow."
"What fools they must have been to let this fellow come ashore!" thought
Carne, while he failed to see the wisest way to take it. "Tugwell, you
cannot do this with any honour, after we have shown you all the secrets
of our enterprise. You know that what we do is of the very highest
honour, kind and humane and charitable, though strictly forbidden by a
most inhuman government. How would you like, if you were a prisoner in
France, to be debarred from all chance of getting any message from your
family, your wife, your sweetheart, or your children, from year's end
to year's end, and perhaps be dead for months without their knowing
anything about it?"
"Well, sir, I should think it very hard indeed; though, if I was dead,
I shouldn't know much more about it. But, without reproach to you, I
cannot make out altogether that our only business is to carry letters
for the prisoners, as now may be in England, from their loving friends
to command in their native country. I won't say against you, sir, if
you say it is--that is, to the outside of all your knowledge. And twenty
thousand of them may need letters by the sack. But what use they could
make, sir, of cannon as big as I be, and muskets that would kill a man
a hundred yards of distance, and bayonets more larger and more sharper
than ever I see before, even with the Royal Volunteers--this goes out of
all my calculation.


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