Jonathan, however, paid no sort of attention to this demonstration of hatred. The watermen, who manned the larger wherry, immediately shipped their oars, grappled with the drifting skiff, and held it fast. It’s John. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. These were presently joined by a regiment of foot.
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