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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Sir Nigel"

For a few minutes she
hunted through the fog, and then sprang out of it like a lean and
stealthy beast upon its prey. It was the sight of the long dark
shadow gliding after them which had brought that wild shout of
alarm from the lips of the English knight. In another instant the
starboard oars of the galley had been shipped, the sides of the
two vessels grated together, and a stream of swarthy, red-capped
Spaniards were swarming up the sides of the Basilisk and dropped
with yells of triumph upon her deck.
For a moment it seemed as if the vessel was captured without a
blow being struck, for the men of the English ship had run wildly
in all directions to look for their arms. Scores of archers might
be seen under the shadow of the forecastle and the poop bending
their bowstaves to string them with the cords from their
waterproof cases. Others were scrambling over saddles, barrels
and cases in wild search of their quivers. Each as he came upon
his arrows pulled out a few to lend to his less fortunate
comrades. In mad haste the men-at-arms also were feeling and
grasping in the dark corners, picking up steel caps which would
not fit them, hurling them down on the deck, and snatching eagerly
at any swords or spears that came their way.
The center of the ship was held by the Spaniards; and having slain
all who stood before them, they were pressing up to either end
before they were made to understand that it was no fat sheep but a
most fierce old wolf which they had taken by the ears.


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