There's a man dying—Captain Darrell. "Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you. He is not in a state of mind to bear it. He was caked with dried muck. Anna raised her eyes. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. He said that for him beauty justified life, that he could not imagine a good action that was not a beautiful one nor any beautiful thing that could be altogether bad. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery. Darrell, however, rose again instantly; and though mortally wounded, made a desperate effort to regain the boat.
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