At the time I didn’t realize it, but this yard was the churchyard now covered in nettles. As I looked over I then saw that Philip Pirrip had gone, and Georgiana’s wife had both passed away buried underground; then realized that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobis, Roger, and a small child had also perished and were buried. Looking overseeing the dark wilderness beyond the churchyard was the old marshes, looking farther down the line seen once was a river, where the wind was rushing from you could see a savage lair where the sea used to be, feeling shivers around your body and fear building up, tears starting to slowly fall, could only have been Pip.
A man who was a fearful looking man, who had metal in his legs, who had no hat, but broken shoes and a rag that was tied around his head. The man was drenched in water with mud covering from head to toe, with cuts that looked like they could be from flints, with stings by nettles from what I could see, with tires from briars. A man who limped and shaken from head to toe, glared and growled at, whose teeth chattered in his head as we pulled me forward with a sliver chain put on me to pull me along as he moved.