"Answer my question, I tell 'ee. You've hurt
my feelings and the feelings of everyone connected with the deceased:
and if this weren't not-azackly the place for it, I'd up and give you
a dashed good hiding," says he.
"Aw, take 'en back," my grandfather goes on. "Take 'en back, my
dears, and put 'en somewhere, cool and temporary! The grave's not
digged, and the Parson's kidnapped, and the French be upon us, and
down by the river ther's a furrin spy taking soundings at this
moment! In the name of King George," said he, remembering that he
was constable, "I command you all except the females to come along
and collar 'en!"
While this was going on, Sir, Bligh had found his boat--which he'd
left by the shore--and was pulling up the river to work off his rage.
Ne'er a thought had he, as he flounced through the churchyard, of the
train of powder he dribbled behind him: but all the way he blew off
steam, cursing Parson Polwhele and the whole cloth from Land's End to
Johnny Groats, and glowering at the very gates by the road as though
he wanted to kick 'em to relieve his feelings. But when he reached
his boat and began rowing, by little and little the exercise tamed
him.
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