Explore "The Haunted Island" by E.H. Visiak on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On Christmas Eve, 1668, I, Francis Clayton, was with my brother Dick at Clayton Manor, our father's house. 'Tis seated on the bottom of a Bay near Wembury, on the sea coast of Devon. My brother served in quality of lieutenant on board His Majesty's ship _Tiger_, and was but late returned from a cruise off the Island of Jamaica. His ship lay at anchor in the bay.
We sat over against one another on the hearth, in my little snug room. The Squire and the servants were a-bed. The great old house slept, with starting and creaking of the timbers. The fire was sunk together, burning with a clear glow; the candles were wasted to the snuff in their sockets.