The White Cruiser

"IT was night, a stormy, cold, bitter night. The tide on its ebb rushed whirling, hissing and foaming through Hurl Gate. The whole Sound was white with foam. On either shore and along the rock-bound sides of Blackwell's Island, the mad surges lifted their heads and uttered their sullen roar.?It was a night that made even the felon feel as he heard the turmoil without, that his cell was comfortable. And at this dark, stormy hour, within one mile of each other, yet all unknowing of each (...)"

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