Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. But his own situation was too perilous to admit of his rendering any assistance to the ill-fated waterman. "It's the skull of a rebel," said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, "blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us.
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