Still, I knew that
Marble wished the thing undone when it was too late, it being idle to
think of quieting the suggestions of that monitor God has implanted
within us, by the meretricious and selfish approbation of those who
judge of right and wrong by their own narrow standard of interest.
CHAPTER XV.
_1st Lord_.--"Throca movonsas, cargo, cargo, cargo."
_All_.--"Cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo."
_Par_.--"O! ransome, ransome:--Do not hide mine eyes"
_1st Sold_.--"Boskos Thromuldo boskos."
_Par_.--"I know you are the Muskos' regiment,
And I shall lose my life for want of language.--"
_All's Well That Ends Well._
The Crisis was tacked, as soon as the body of Smudge was cut down, and
she moved slowly, her crew maintaining a melancholy silence, out of
the little haven. I never witnessed stronger evidence of sadness in
the evolutions of a vessel; the slow and stately departure resembling
that of mourners leaving the grave on which they had just heard the
fall of the clod. Marble told me afterwards, he had been disposed to
anchor, and remain until the body of poor Captain Williams should
rise, as it probably would within the next forty-eight hours; but the
dread of a necessity of sacrificing more of the natives, induced him
to quit the fatal spot, without paying the last duties to our worthy
old commander.
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