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stuck too hard or my nerve failed me, and I desisted with a violent
shudder. Oddly enough, that very shudder did the business. The
knife, in fact, had come the nearest in the world to missing me
altogether; it held me by a mere pinch of skin, and this the
shudder tore away. The blood ran down the faster, to be sure, but
I was my own master again and only tacked to the mast by my coat
and shirt.

These last I broke through with a sudden jerk, and then
regained the deck by the starboard shrouds. For nothing in the
world would I have again ventured, shaken as I was, upon the
overhanging port shrouds from which Israel had so lately fallen.

I went below and did what I could for my wound; it pained me a
good deal and still bled freely, but it was neither deep nor
dangerous, nor did it greatly gall me when I used my arm. Then I
looked around me, and as the ship was now, in a sense, my own, I
began to think of clearing it from its last passenger--the dead man,

He had pitched, as I have said, against the bulwarks, where he
lay like some horrible, ungainly sort of puppet, life-size, indeed,
but how different from life’s colour or life’s comeliness! In that
position I could easily have my way with him, and as the habit of
tragical adventures had worn off almost all my terror for the dead,
I took him by the waist as if he had been a sack of bran and with
one good heave, tumbled him overboard. He went in with a
sounding plunge; the red cap came off and remained floating on
the surface; and as soon as the splash subsided, I could see him
and Israel lying side by side, both wavering with the tremulous
movement of the water. O’Brien, though still quite a young man,
was very bald. There he lay, with that bald head across the knees

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