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"Nobody could have been more agreeable, sir," said Miss Acton. "He has a sweet, strong voice, and sings with great feeling." "But though you do not prosecute him, sir," said Lucy, "might not his story become known so that he might be arrested for piracy, and charged and convicted on the evidence of his crew?" "I will send a boat aboard of you!" was the shout which immediately followed Weaver's response. "Shorten sail, or shake the way out of her as you please!".
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Conrad
Keeler roused himself from his abstraction and resumed: "Right next to the Stanhope farm there stood about a thousand acres of the purtiest hardwoods you ever clap't an eye on, sir. An ol' hermit of a drunken Scotchman, Scroggie by name, owned that land. He lived in a dirty little cabin an' was so mean even the mice was scared to eat the food he scrimped himself on. He had money too, lots an' lots of gold money. I've seen it myself. He kept it hid somewhere. "What did he say to you?" repeated the lawyer, and the wretched man on the rack answered hopelessly: "He told me that if I didn't give the will up to Stanhope he would have me arrested and sent to the pen." "We want you to finish the song you was just now singing and broke off in." "Hist," he whispered and Billy and Maurice felt their flesh creep. "Ut's hear that swishin' av feet above, ye do? Ut's the Black troup houldin' their course 'twixt the seared earth an' the storm. The witches of Ballyclue, ut is, an' whin they be out on their mad run the ghoste av dead min hould wild carnival. Ut'll be needin' that rabbit-fut sure we wull, if the ha'nted grove we enter this night.".
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