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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"

Even now, after
the long gap of years and the knowledge of his downfall, that great man
casts his spell upon you, but all that you read and all that you hear
cannot give you an idea of what his name meant in the days when he was
at the summit of his career.
What actually met my eye was very different from this childish
expectation of mine. To the north there was a long low cape, the name
of which has now escaped me. In the evening light it had been of the
same greyish green tint as the other headlands; but now, as the darkness
fell, it gradually broke into a dull glow, like a cooling iron.
On that wild night, seen and lost with the heave and sweep of the boat,
this lurid streak carried with it a vague but sinister suggestion.
The red line splitting the darkness might have been a giant half-forged
sword-blade with its point towards England.
'What is it, then?' I asked.
'Just what I say, master,' said he. 'It's one of Boney's armies, with
Boney himself in the middle of it as like as not. Them is their camp
fires, and you'll see a dozen such between this and Ostend.


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