[The Devil’s Own by Randall Parrish]@TWC D-Link book
The Devil’s Own

CHAPTER XII
6/17

Except for straggling rushes extending to the edge of the water, the space between was vacant, yet sufficiently mantled in darkness to enable one to creep forward unseen.
At first glance I could distinguish no sign of the boatman left in charge, but, even as I lay there, breathless and uncertain, he suddenly revealed his presence by lighting a lantern in the stern.

The illumination was feeble enough, yet sufficient to expose to view the small, unprotected engine aft, and also the fact that all forward of the little cockpit in which it stood, the entire craft was decked over.
The fellow was busily engaged in overhauling the machinery, leaning far forward, his body indistinct, the lantern swinging in one hand, with entire attention devoted to his task.

Occasionally, as he lifted his head for some purpose, the dim radiance fell upon his face, revealing the unmistakable countenance of a mulatto, a fellow of medium size, broad of cheek with unusually full lips, and a fringe of whisker turning gray.

Somehow this revelation that he was a negro, and not a white man, brought with it to me an additional confidence in success.
I inclined my head and whispered in the girl's ear: "You are not to move from here until I call.

This is to be my part of the work, handling that lad.


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