c 2006, 24 pages. "the list of truths I pocket."
8.5x5.5, tied up tight.

Hello, Face of a Deathly Pallor

sungly in sail-cloth. The clerks
at the tables laid down their more than ordinary

range. Blood's men were snug in irons under hatches.
He leaned over the rail, spied the ships separated

in that gale off the Lesser Antilles. Put the helm down,
he bade. The younger of the two physicians joined our

continuous study of an impassive companion. But do
what he might, the one buccaneer he went. I waited

for him; but my uncle was with him, and I had no
Don Esteban closely followed by Captain Blood.

Up to the waist stood Peter Blood, prayed that the offer
might be rejected. For no reason with frosted dignity.

I wanted to know why you desire a partial stoppage
with a sail-cloth. And the pumps were got to work.

He, safely ashore again, without delay. Peter Blood
paused, but only for an instant. Of people, pain is

a villainous and devilish one it is. Out of his own.