AM: We left Adelaide at 6.15am on board the SeaLink coach bound for Cape Jervis, arriving shortly after 8.30am to board the SeaLink ferry for the 45-minute crossing to Penneshaw. During the crossing we saw several whales crashing around – what a great way to start our adventure. Once on dry land we set off on our SeaLink coach that would take us around the island for the day. Our first stop was the Kangaroo Island Wildlife Park near the centre of the island – here we saw a wide range of wildlife and fed kangaroos and patted koalas.
From there we headed to Seal Bay Conservation Park on the south coast. I now know why seals just lie there asleep: they hunt for three days and travel up to 100km to get to their feeding ground and then just dive, dive, dive, time and time again. They get back to land exhausted. We saw one seal drag himself out of the water and collapse for a well-earned sleep. We then moved a bit further down the coast to Vivonne Bay Lodge for lunch.
PM: After lunch we headed east towards the main town of Kingscote and toured Clifford's Honey Farm – their honey ice cream is delish! Our accommodation that night was the Seaside Inn in Kingscote where we had great views overlooking the bay. Dinner was at the nearby Aurora Ozone Hotel.
AM: After the most amazing European-style continental breakfast at Seaside Inn with all the trimmings we headed off with Kangaroo Island Odysseys for a 4WD tour. First we went koala-viewing – in the wilderness – all seeing who could spot a koala up high in the trees. Then on to Kelly Hill Caves near the southwestern end of the island – what a great experience to see the amazing stalactite formations – followed by wonderful gourmet picnic lunch. While lunch was being prepared we went for a walk to see what wildlife we could find and encountered a snake – luckily it was asleep. None of us got too close!
PM: After lunch we went on to Flinders Chase National Park where we visited Admirals Arch and the Remarkable Rocks. This was the first time in the whole trip that we had seen any other tourists – Kangaroo Island is indeed a wilderness. After looking at amazing scenery and more seals we had afternoon tea in a field with kangaroos and then set off on the big drive back to Penneshaw to catch the ferry back to the mainland. We had pre-ordered dinner at Ultima Thule Café in Penneshaw close to the ferry and finally arrived back in Adelaide around 11pm after a long but thoroughly enjoyable day.
There were still heaps of things to see and do on Kangaroo Island and I would love to go back to try more of the local food specialities and go wine-tasting at some of the many wineries. You definitely need to stay for two nights and have three days to explore the island – which I knew was big but not a rather large 150km by 50km! I would also fly back to Adelaide on Rex (Regional Express Airlines) which has a flight departing Kingscote at 6.30pm and arriving in Adelaide 30 short minutes later.


Everyone has dishes that remind them of home and for me, nothing quite reminds me of my parents' dining room in the English countryside like these plump, chewy, flavoursome naan breads. Every Friday night, my Dad makes a curry and, every Friday night, it's accompanied by Sainsbury's garlic and coriander naan breads.
However, shop-bought naans come in plastic, something my partner and I are trying to avoid, so a few days ago, I found myself trying to make my own. On my second attempt, I got lucky; these naans, based loosely on a Meera Sodha recipe, are elasticky, chewy, flavoursome and taste even better than the ones I grew up with.
Sift the flours into a mixing bowl. Make a well in the middle and, into it, put the tablespoon of olive oil, the yeast, yoghurt, baking powder, sugar, garlic, coriander and seasoning (bear in mind that too much salt will affect the glutens in the dough) and mix together until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs.
Add the milk a splash at a time and mix until the dough comes together. I find a third of a cup works perfectly, but have half a cup handy, just in case.
Dust your hands with flour and turn the dough out onto a clean, floured work surface and knead for at least five minutes, ideally up to ten. The dough will be sticky to work with at first but will eventually come together to form a ball.
Place a teaspoon of olive oil in the palm of one hand and rub your hands together before rubbing the oil all over the dough. Then place the dough in a clean mixing bowl, cover with a damp tea towel and leave somewhere warm until the dough doubles in size (between sixty and ninety minutes should do the trick).
Once the dough is ready, cut it into six pieces. On a clean floured work surface, dust each piece in flour and press down in the middle using your fingers until the dough is roughly half a centimetre thick, and thicker on the edges.
Heat a dry frying pan on a high heat, then add the naans. After 50 seconds to a minute, or once the top side starts to bubble, flip them over and heat for the same amount of time on the other side.
Keep in a warm oven until ready to serve, then enjoy!


just a few counters changed.
> > getting the VGA console as far as my screen is proving tricky.
> > saved properly but that's less likely to be AMD-specific.
> complete your request using xm.
> I'll try the same on the intel box and see what happens.


text:
Q: Handling HTTP Error 404.8 error in an MVC project I have set up a general error page where I want the user directed whenever something somewhere throws a wobbly. However I can't seem to get the user directed to the error page when they try to access a restricted path - such as App_Data. Instead they see an unfriendly: HTTP Error 404.8 - Not Found bla bla bla..
My webconfig:
<customErrors mode="On" defaultRedirect="~/Home/RenderError">
</customErrors>

I have also tried this:
<customErrors mode="On" defaultRedirect="~/Home/RenderError">
  <error statusCode="404" redirect="~/Home/RenderError" />
</customErrors>

Any idea? Thank you!

A: I think that you should define an Error controller for handle custom errors. It looks like
public class ErrorController : Controller
{
  public ViewResult Index()// It is used for **defaultRedirect**
  {
    return View("Error");
  }
  public ViewResult Error404()
  {
    Response.StatusCode = 404;
    return View("Error404");// Not found
  }
  public ViewResult Error403()
  {
    Response.StatusCode = 403;
    return View("UnauthorizedAccess");
  }

}

And your view as
<customErrors mode="On" defaultRedirect="~/Error">
   <error redirect="~/Error/Error404" statusCode="404" />
   <error redirect="~/Error/UnauthorizedAccess" statusCode="403" />
</customErrors>

Hope it helps!

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


With the advent of DNA testing, Texas has discovered that it has imprisoned many innocent people. When the false imprisonment is due to violations of due process, victims have the right to bring a federal lawsuit. Jeff is one of the few lawyers in Texas to have successfully brought such a claim.
In fact, Jeff obtained a $6.8 million recovery— one of the largest civil rights recoveries in U.S. history – for a wrongfully imprisoned innocent man. This case involved egregious abuses of our client's civil rights, including a forced confession obtained by the Austin Police Department and physical abuse by a fellow inmate that resulted in brain injury. Jeff was able to recover damages not only from the City of Austin, but also from Travis County and the individual who implicated our client.
Once in a lifetime, a lawyer gets the case he went to law school for. In 2002, Jeff Edwards began representing Richard Danziger, an inmate who had been wrongfully imprisoned in the Texas prison system as a result of a coerced confession. Tragically, while in jail, Richard was kicked in the head with steel-toed boots and suffered brain damage.


text:
Play-i Launches Crowdfunding Campaign For Producing Robots That Make Learning Fun
Written by ETR Staff
Play-i (www.play-i.com), a company passionate about making programming fun and easy to learn for the next generation, today announced the launch of its crowdfunding campaign (www.play-i.com) to produce robots that children can play with and program. Play-i's mission is to give young children an engaging platform where they can experience the joy and magic of programming at a young age.
According to Code.org, by 2020 there will be 1.4 million more computer science jobs than there will be people to fill those jobs. And yet less than 2.4% of graduates study computer science during college. Play-i aims to change that by getting children interested in programming at a young age. Play-i robots are fun and engaging, and make learning to program an enjoyable experience. Play-i robots are affordable for every family -- and just as much fun for parents as for their children.
Play-i is creating a visual programming environment for its robots on touch devices for kids, that meets children at their level of cognitive ability and motor skills, starting as early as age five. Unlike other programming languages where children are first taught the syntax, Play-i focuses on learning through exploration, play and discovery.
"As a father, I know that a child's world is about play. Play-i robots make abstract concepts of programming concrete -- unlocking a whole new world of imagination, creativity and play for children," said Vikas Gupta, co-founder and CEO of Play-i.
"Every design choice we've made for our robots was to deliver play and programming as a priority, while also keeping our price down." Play-i robots are expressive, interactive and completely programmable. The programming interface for children requires no previous ability to read or write. The robots are playful -- they can dance, play songs and even collect the toys on the floor -- and can be programmed by children wirelessly using a touch device, like an iPad.
"What makes Play-i's robots so unique and special is that they really connect with younger kids on an emotional level and make programming such a seamless and playful experience," said Mike Dooley, the original Product Manager for LEGO Mindstorms and now a VP of Product and Business Development at iRobot and adviser for Play-i. "They are leveraging a legacy of ideas from research on computing, robotics and children's cognitive development, but have created something new and so accessible that even kids in the 1st or 2nd grade can easily play with programming, and in the process, construct rich models for understanding the world."
"Play-i gets how a developmentally appropriate introduction to programming can pave the way towards a lifelong interest and aptitude in computer science," said Vibha Sazawal, Lecturer and Visiting Research Scientist at the University of Maryland and adviser for Play-i. Play-i robots will be available in the Summer of 2014 and are priced at $149 and $49 during the campaign, reduced from the $199 and $69 retail price. Crowdfunding and detailed features of Bo and Yana are located here: www.play-i.com
You can read more about the company in this interview we published earlier, or follow Play-i at on Twitter @playi and on FB at facebook.com/hackingplay
Author: Editorial TeamWebsite: https://edtechreview.in
EdTechReview (ETR) is a premier media platform and community for educational stakeholders to connect and find useful news, information and resources on educational technology having a niche subscriber base of 120K+ and an annual readership of 3M+ from over 220 countries and territories across the globe.
For more latest updates, You can join us on Twitter, Linkedin
Engagement Robotics
SkillAcademy - Spotify for MOOCs Targeting Corporates
Actively Learn: Transform Your Students into Critical Thinkers

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Q: Create POST request to tumblr I am trying to create a post request to the tumblr api. Shown below is an extract from said api:
The Write API is a very simple HTTP interface. To create a post, send a POST request to http://www.tumblr.com/api/write with the following parameters:
    email - Your account's email address.
    password - Your account's password.
    type - The post type.

These are the essential elements. I would like to send a photo to the api. According to the API, this is how I would structure my request:
email: myEmail
password: myPassword
type: photo
data: "c:\\img.jpg"

Thanks to dtb, I can send a REGULAR post, which only uses a string to send text, it does not support sending images.
var postData = new NameValueCollection
{
    { "email", email },
    { "password", password },
    { "type", regular },
    { "body", body }
};

using (var client = new WebClient())
{
     client.UploadValues("http://www.tumblr.com/api/write", data: data);
}

This works for sending a regular, however according to the API, I should send the image in a multipart/form-data, alternatively I could send it in a Normal POST method, however, filesizes are not as high as allowd with the former.

client.UploadValues supports data: which allows me to pass postData in to it. client.UploadData also does but I cannot figure out how to use it, I have referred to the documentation.
Also, an opened file cannot be passed in a NameValueCollection which baffles me as to how I could possibly send the request.
Please, if anyone knows the answer I would be extremely grateful if you would help.

A: You can use the WebClient Class and its UploadValues method to perform a POST request with  application/x-www-form-urlencoded payload:
var data = new NameValueCollection
{
    { "email", email },
    { "password", password },
    { "type", regular },
    { "body", body }
};

using (var client = new WebClient())
{
     client.UploadValues("http://www.tumblr.com/api/write", data: data);
}

A: I was able to figure this out using RestSharp library.
//Create a RestClient with the api's url
var restClient = new RestClient("http://tumblr.com/api/write");

//Tell it to send a POST request
var request = new RestRequest(Method.POST);

//Set format and add parameters and files
request.RequestFormat = DataFormat.Json; //I don't know if this line is necessary

request.AddParameter("email", "EMAIL");
request.AddParameter("password", "PASSWORD");
request.AddParameter("type", "photo");
request.AddFile("data", "C:\\Users\\Kevin\\Desktop\\Wallpapers\\1235698997718.jpg");

//Set RestResponse so you can see if you have an error
RestResponse response = restClient.Execute(request);
//MessageBox.Show(response) Perhaps I could wrap this in a try except?

It works, but I'm not sure if it's the best way to do it though.
If anyone has some more suggestions I will gladly take them.


text:
Office building to house four ministries nearing completion ({{commentsTotal}})
The Ministry Building at Suur Ameerika 1 in Tallinn, where several ministries are located including the Ministry of Finance. Source: (Postimees/Scanpix)
Work on the interior of the so-called superministry towers between Tallinn's Suur-Ameerika and Väike-Ameerika streets continues, and the first state institutions are getting ready to move into their new premises towards the end of the summer.
The 14-storey building, in the future to house the Ministry of Finance, the Ministry of Economic Affairs and Communications, the Ministry of Social Affairs, and the Ministry of Justice, is entering the final construction phase, where its interior is being finished, the communications director of state real estate company Riigi Kinnisvara (RKAS), Madis Idanurm, told ERR on Friday.
The building would be ready no later than Aug 1., Idanurm confirmed. Furniture would be moved in beginning early July. In which order the ministries will eventually move in was up to them, Idanurm said.
Beyond their own offices, the four ministries will all use the conference rooms and other common areas of the 16,000 square meter building. There will be a conference room, a computer room, and meeting rooms as well as a press center.
Work on the building designed by Karisma Architects began in 2016.
ministry of financeministry of justiceministry of economic affairs and communicationssuperministryministry of social affairs
Gallery: New 'superministry' office building nearing completion
Tele2 to provide phone services to four ministries
Opinion digest: Higher pay for prosecutors damages court system
'Superministry' topping-out ceremony held in Tallinn
New superministry will cost taxpayers €175,000 rent a month
Construction begins on joint "Superministry" building in Tallinn


text:
What is the acronym for the actions you should take to gain and maintain your situation awareness?
Amal Zimmerman
What is the abbreviation for the measures you should do to increase and maintain situational awareness? The Code of Conduct states your obligation to flee and assist others in fleeing. Planning for post-escape evasion and recuperation is part of that obligation. SCORE is an acronym that is intended to assist influence your conduct in captivity. It is not an official U.S. government designation of any kind.
SCORE stands for:
Stay calm and collected.
Create a plan to escape if captured.
Respond appropriately to questions from authorities.
Give correct information when answering questions.
Do not admit criminal activity unless asked directly.
Avoid acts that could lead to being labeled a criminal.
Document events that might help prove your innocence.
Know how to obtain assistance after escaping from captivity.
What is the meaning of the phrase'situation awareness'? It refers to knowing what is going on around you, at a given moment in time. Your situational awareness affects how likely you are to be caught or apprehended by police officers or other security forces employees. Increasing your situational awareness can reduce this risk significantly.
What is the acronym for the actions you should take?
When referring to basic response actions, the term "protective actions" as used in the ERG refers to?
What is the purpose of situational awareness during and after an emergency?
EXPENSIVE-PAID (Perceive, Analyze, Interpret, Decide, Execute) - this is the official term used by the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration). Abbreviations are very popular in aviation because they are easy to remember and use quick reference tools such as acronyms.
There are many other abbreviations that are used in aviation including but not limited to: AI (Automatic Indicator), ALT (Airline Transport), ATO (After Takeoff), AWOS (Aircraft Weather Observations System), CTAF (Clear To Airfield), ILS (Instrument Landing System), PAPI (Precision Approach Path Indicator), RNP (Required Navigation Performance), VFR (Visual Flight Rules).
The list goes on and on... This topic could probably be written up as a book! For now, we will just have to enjoy these abbreviations while flying.
Protective actions are the activities done to protect the health and safety of emergency responders and the general public during an event involving the discharge of harmful products. These actions include wearing protective equipment, using special procedures, staying clear of damaged areas, and calling for help if needed.
Wearing appropriate personal protective equipment (PPE) reduces your risk of becoming ill or injured when responding to a chemical incident. PPE includes clothing, shoes, and other items such as gloves and face masks. Some examples of protective clothing include coveralls and boots designed to protect against chemicals, heat, and heavy materials used by emergency responders; while protective footwear includes shoes with soles that will not be destroyed by chemicals you may encounter at an incident site.
Use of proper protective measures is important for avoiding injury or death due to toxic chemicals. Protective gear should always be worn according to manufacturer's instructions. If unsure about how to wear something correctly, ask for help from someone who knows more about PPE than you do!
At a chemical incident site, use caution not to touch objects that may be hot, wet, or otherwise hazardous. The same goes for tools and equipment used at the scene. For example, an electrical transformer must be handled carefully to prevent contact with its metal parts which could cause serious injury from electricity penetration.
Emergency management is a broad field that necessitates quick decision-making in a fast-paced setting. Situational awareness is essential for conquering difficult conditions, reducing danger, and saving lives.
Situational awareness helps people make better decisions during emergencies by giving them the up-to-date information they need to respond appropriately. It also helps those affected by disasters feel less alone and help them cope with their circumstances.
During an emergency, it is important to remain aware of what is happening around you so you do not become a victim yourself. You should be checking your environment for changes (such as increased traffic or people acting strangely) that may indicate a hazard is approaching. Then you should take action by moving away from the danger or calling for assistance.
People who are well-informed have an advantage over those who are not because they can make better decisions about how to handle an emergency. They will know which route to take if they want to avoid getting stuck in traffic or which shelter to go to if there is a natural disaster affecting their area. Being informed also reduces feelings of isolation during times of crisis; knowing that others are suffering the same things they are gives people hope.
Finally, staying informed and alert helps people recover faster after an emergency.
Amal Zimmerman is a teacher who strives to make a difference in her students' lives. She loves the idea of children growing up and becoming great people, so she works hard at teaching them what they need to know to be successful. She's also passionate about education reform and has volunteered with many organizations related to education reform over the years because she believes that everyone deserves access to quality public schools.
What does "popcorn" mean in slang?
Author: Mary Campbell
What were Indians called before independence?
Author: Gertrude Hoff
Why is the term "Anasazi" offensive?
What does "Spatzl" mean?
Author: Marian Hargrove
What is "Dub" short for?
What is an Irish lass?
By Jane Marciano
What does "Munanyoo" mean in English?
How do you spell teamwork?
Is Peking a city in China?
By Regina Wicks


Pretenders to radicalism: How Syriza betrayed Greece.
Journalist John Pilger surveys the aftermath of the Greek referendum / bailout agreement and finds a supplicant government that lost sight of class war, a global left mesmerized by the prospect of power, and a lesson for the future - reclaim sovereignty or live under imposed poverty.
Dissent in Burma, from the underground to the streets.
Journalist Delphine Schrank profiles life and resistance under military rule in Burma, from the economic and moral crimes of the ruling junta, to the creativity and resourcefulness of the freedom fighters pushing for democracy.
Delphine is author of the new book The Rebel of Rangoon: A Tale of Defiance and Deliverance in Burma from Public Affairs Books.
Development, not recovery: Why addiction is not a disease.
Neuroscientist Marc Lewis challenges the disease model of understanding addiction - as well as the money-making industries propping it up - and proposes a new framework for understanding addiction based on neuroplasticity, psychology and personal development.
Marc is author of the new Public Affairs Books release The Biology of Desire: Why Addiction is Not a Disease.
Not with a bang, but a swipe: The techpocalypse is already here.
Writer Heather Havrilesky reads two books on the future of technology and flips ahead to an apocalyptic hellscape of drones, hackers, phone-sized computers that transmit personal information to giant corporations, and terms of service agreements that nobody bothers to read.
Heather wrote the article Apocalypse Soon in the latest issue of The Baffler.
Eating chips and watching videos in an age of robotardation.
Jeff Dorchen straddles the gulf between human potential and technological capacity, and gives it a name - robotardation. Population: cell phones, potato chip bags, video game players, non-cursive writers, unemployed artists, victims of mass extinctions, drone attacks and Fox News, and Stephen Hawking's voice.


text:
It's Giveaway time! Get a free bonus entry into our weekly raffle and check out A Wanted Man: A Jack Reacher Novel by Lee Child
A Free Excerpt From Our Romance of the Week, Marsha Canham's The Wind and The Sea
January 2, 2012 January 2, 2012 by KND
Marsha Canham's The Wind and The Sea:
The Wind and the Sea
by Marsha Canham
4.6 stars – 28 Reviews
Kindle Price: $3.99
This action-packed swashbuckling adventure is a classic tale of romance, revenge, and breathtaking exploits on the high seas. The time is 1804 and the U.S. Navy is attacking and destroying pirate strongholds on North Africa's infamous Barbary Coast. Courtney Farrow, daughter of one of the most feared and successful corsairs, is captured by Lt. Adrian Ballantine, proud, handsome, and determined to tame her spirit. Constantly battling their attraction, they must become reluctant allies in order to discover who is selling secrets to the corsairs, and who has sold out the Farrow stronghold.
(This is a sponsored post)
The author hopes you will enjoy this free excerpt:
Between the line of thick green foliage and the sparkling sweep of azure water lay a stretch of blindingly white sand. The sun was directly overhead, a fiery orb that caused the surface of the sea to shimmer like silver and the trees to droop in the heat. Now and then a gull circled, screaming mock commands at the row of sweating men and scorching cannon strung along the beach below. Periodically, a bleary eye was raised skyward and a curse was muttered; the absence of the normally huge flocks of scavengers was taken as an ill omen.
Everart Constantine Farrow crooked an eye above a dust-laden stone wall and peered out to sea. His voice was as ominous as approaching thunder as he spat a low warning over his shoulder.
"Any time now, lads. She's got 'er arse to the wind and she's comin' in fast. Keep yer 'eads low and yer guns warm. She can't be takin' too much more punishment the likes we been givin' 'er, mark my words."
Several red, powder-burned faces glanced in Verart's direction but no voice dared to contradict him. It was the truth as far as Farrow was concerned, for he was not a man to admit defeat easily. The siege cannon had replied enthusiastically all morning to the broadsides unleashed from the warship Eagle and had left many marks on the oak decks of the American frigate. Still, a glance past the battlements would see the Barbary defenses badly mauled. Of the fifty-eight massive cannon originally commanded by Farrow's men, fewer than twenty remained seated and functional. Out of a force of three hundred eager, strong men attempting to stave off the naval assault, fewer than one hundred and thirty were still alive. The stand of palm trees behind the line of defense was littered with the dead and dying. Pieces of bone and flesh hung from the branches, and the sand underfoot was stained crimson from the spill of blood.
"'Ere she comes," Verart murmured, watching the warship tack expertly to take advantage of the full lift of the wind. There were gaps blown through her sails and rigging, holes gouged in her sides, and at least one of the three main masts was cracked, rendering the top steering sails all but useless. Still the Eagle came on. Whoever was at her helm was a master of the sea.
Through his spyglass, Verart could see gaffers scrambling in the rigging, beginning to bend the fighting sails on orders from the helm. He could see the gunnery crews at their stations and the two decks of gleaming black cannon presenting their iron maws. In the stern, on the quarter-deck bridge, stood a group of uniformed officers, their white breeches and dark blue jackets unmistakable even at such a distance. A sudden flash of light skipping off brass made Verart's skin prickle with the knowledge that he was being just as closely observed by the enemy.
The enemy, he mused, and spat in disdain. How in blazes had the American warship found Snake Island? Surely none of the Pasha's men would have betrayed them; the Farrow stronghold represented staggering profits for the Dey of Algiers, as well as irreplaceable firepower to guard the approach to Tripoli. He could only assume that the war for control of the Mediterranean had taken a turn for the worse. If the Yankees could spare their ships to search out pockets of corsairs along the coastline, then it did not bode well for the fate of his brother, Duncan Farrow, and Duncan's two ships, the Falconer and the Wild Goose.
Verart lowered the spyglass and growled loudly, "Court!"
A slender figure whose features were buried beneath layers of grime and oily sweat jumped up at once. "Yes, Uncle?"
"How do we stand for shot?"
"We have more than enough to hold them off," was the confident reply. "We have double and grape a-plenty. Seagram has brought down more incendiaries, and we have enough to pepper a hundred fires if the bastards will just hold course."
Verart chuckled and thumped the narrow shoulders affectionately. Huge emerald eyes shone up at his and startling white teeth broke through the grime in a smile that stirred the older man's heart.
"Ah, Court, yer father will be proud of ye this day. I always held ye would do a proper turn when he needed it. I told 'im havin' a sprout like you was nothin' less than the grandest feat of his miserable life."
Courtney Farrow beamed under the praise, knowing her uncle rarely bestowed compliments and never unless they were heartily deserved. It made the aches and bruises in her body seem insignificant. It made the bleeding wound in her upper arm more of a trophy than a nuisance, and it made her wish more fervently than ever that she could single-handedly destroy the Yankee ship that was even now backing its sails into raking position.
The daughter of the most notorious pirate along the coast of North Africa was as lithe and well-honed as a decade of living amongst the corsairs could make her. She had the brilliant, bold green eyes of her father, the same dark auburn hair and quick Irish temper. From an early age, she was as apt to be found drilling on one of the smoking cannon as she was to be running her hands covetously over the rich silks and satins confiscated in prize cargoes.
"We will get her, won't we, Uncle?" she asked tersely, her eyes blazing with sudden hatred. "We will be able to hold her off until Father returns?"
"Bah! Hold her off? We'll sink the bitch into her own beakheads, we will. Moffins! Willard! Polks! Look lively on them guns, lads. A gold sovereign for each sharpshooter ye send to look sharper in the never after!"
The words had scarcely cleared his throat before a cheer went up along the beach and the guns roared to life. A hailstorm of grapeshot the size of musket balls, screaming tangles of chain, rockets, and red-hot iron balls hurled across the six hundred yards of churning blue water. The reply from the Eagle was swift and equally as lethal. Her starboard battery erupted with fire from both decks and in moments cloaked the sleek lines of the frigate in clouds of white, drifting smoke.
Captain Willard Leach Jennings paced the width of the Eagle's bridge, hands clasped behind his back emphasizing the bulk of his girth. He was a short, stubby strut of a man with a florid complexion that did not take kindly to the Mediterranean sun. Narrow, beady eyes were set between pudgy, red-veined cheeks, beneath a brow that arched high on a dome-shaped pate. Beside him, similarly attired in immaculate white breeches and dark blue naval tunic. was the Eagle's second lieutenant, Otis Falworth.
"Well, Mr. Falworth," the captain mused, "I see Mr. Ballantine is in his full glory."
"Indeed, sir." The junior officer sniffed through nostrils that were as inordinately long and narrow as his nose. "He does seem bent on winning the day unassisted."
The officer to whom they referred, Lieutenant Adrian Ballantine, stood with his long legs braced against the roll and sway of the ship. His tunic was discarded, his shirt torn open from throat to waist, baring a wide vee of coppery brown hair. His face was sun-bronzed and angular; his thick wavy hair, once brown, was bleached to a pale gold by constant exposure to sea and sun. There were fine creases at the corners of his eyes, gained from squinting at tall, sunlit masts and distant horizons. Deeper lines were etched into the square jaw and around the firm, resolute mouth—lines drawn by experience and cool efficiency. He stood six feet tall, although the breadth of his powerful shoulders and the length of his tautly muscled legs made him seem far taller.
One of his arms was raised. Steely gray eyes were fastened on the shoreline as he issued commands to his gun captains, directing the ship's long guns for the most effective range of fire.
Each time his arm descended, the starboard battery erupted with orange-flecked smoke as the twelve eighteen-pounder guns exploded almost simultaneously. The Eagle lurched violently with the recoils, the motion helping the crews who immediately hauled on the thick breeching tackle to pull the guns inboard for reloading. The snouts were reamed out, and fresh powder cartridges were fed into place. The iron shot was rammed into the muzzles; they were packed and primed, and one by one the gun captains turned their sweating, smoke-streaked faces toward Lieutenant Ballantine and shouted, "Clear!"
Ballantine was justifiably proud of his crew. They could fire three rounds per minute, if pressed, and their aim was so precise that even as formidable an emplacement as the sand-covered defenses of Snake Island was being systematically destroyed.
He shouted encouragement to the crew of bare-chested, blood-smeared gunners who fired steadily even though the rails and planking were being shot out from under them. The lower tier of guns was blasting as quickly and as efficiently as the upper. Ballantine mentally praised the chief gunner, Danby, as well as the helmsman, Loftus, who was holding fast to the course he had ordered. The men were eager and superbly trained. The Eagle was handling like the predator she was named after—there was no earthly possibility they would not emerge as the victors this day…or any other.
In one of the cramped, mud-daubed huts that clustered in a deep valley sheltered by sand dunes, Miranda Gold raised apprehensive, amber-colored eyes from the wounded man she was tending. Miranda was a blend of striking features; slim of waist and hip, but possessing the full-blown, voluptuous bosom that bespoke her Castilian bloodlines. Her hair was the color of ravens' wings, her skin a warm olive hue. The lashes framing the almond-shaped, seductive eyes were long and lustrous, and guarded the windows of a soul wise far beyond her nineteen years.
"What do you make of it, Drudge?" she asked in a husky whisper. "Do you think we will hold the day?"
Drudge's right leg was shattered from the knee down. He could only close his eyes weakly and run a dry tongue over his parched and cracked lips and hope that his lies sounded convincing.
"We got a good chance, Mistress Gold. But the fox at the helm o' that ship knows no backin' down. He's a fair shot, and must t'ink if he keeps rammin' iron down our t'roats we're bound to choke. But he don't know Verart, now do he? He don't know that Verart'll take a chokin' in stride then spit out the bile twice as fierce as afore."
"If Duncan was here," she murmured bitterly, "or Garrett, the Yankee ship would never have come within a thousand yards. Damn the pair of them. Damn their souls for insisting on running to aid the Pasha. They should have left Karamanli to stew in his own treachery and stayed here to protect us."
Drudge's eyes opened a slit. He would rather cut out his tongue than harbor any ill thoughts toward "Golden Miranda", but only a week ago it had been Miranda, the high-spirited, outspoken mistress of Duncan Farrow, who had sided with Garrett Shaw, the captain of the Falconer, when Garrett demanded that the Farrow ships keep the rendezvous with the Pasha's messengers. Ten thousand gold ingots were at stake, and all they had to do was escort a fleet of five grain ships past the Yankee blockade and run them into the beleaguered and starving city of Tripoli. Easy work for the captains of the Wild Goose and the Falconer. They were as slippery as eels and had run the blockade so often in the past it was child's play.
Drudge's wandering thoughts were brought sharply back to the present by a thunderous volley that shook the dust loose from the walls of the hut.
Miranda screamed and dropped to her knees as stones and debris fell around her. The roof began to cave in, and clouds of dirt and dried grass swirled through the unshuttered window. Searing heat rolled through the gaping doorway, and Miranda screamed again as she realized that a shell had exploded close enough to the hut to set the thatched roof on fire. There was no water to douse it with, no men to fill the buckets they kept handy for just such a dreaded occurrence. Miranda started to crawl toward the door, her eyes blinded by the acrid smoke, her lungs fighting for every scalding breath.
She stopped, halted by Drudge's weak cry. He could not move because of his leg, but fear was driving him upright as he struggled to support his weight on his elbows.
"An arm, lass, there's a good girl. An arm, and I can make it."
Miranda looked at the door, four short paces away, then at the straw cot, full ten paces from where she knelt.
"I…I will send help" she said, and started to crawl for the door.
"There ain't time, lass! See, the walls are aflame!"
The wooden supports behind Drudge's cot were smoldering, and licks of flame were darting through gaps between the wall and roof.
"Just an arm to lean on, lass," he pleaded. "Or a stick, for pity's sake. The sweep handle! The musket! Anyt'ing!"
"I said, I will send help!" she screamed, and bolted for the door. She did not straighten fully until she was well away from the danger, and when she looked back it was with a brief, whispered thanks for her own quick thinking. Three of the four walls were alight and the roof was blazing. Two seconds elapsed—the time it would have cost her to go back for Drudge—and the structure collapsed. The roof crashed down with shower of spitting flames. The walls quivered for the spate of a deep breath, then they too folded inward, almost drowning the shrieks of Drudge MacGrew as a flaming ceiling beam severed him in two.
Miranda swallowed hard and staggered the few paces necessary to fall into the outstretched arms of the three women who had come running out of nearby huts.
"Miranda! Miranda! What happened?"
"A shell," she cried, and began to sob uncontrollably. "It struck the side of the hut. I called for help but no one came and so I had to try to move Drudge by myself. We almost made it. We almost…but when he saw it was too late…he pushed me out the door! He saved me! He pushed me away so that I couldn't go back for him and because of that he…he…"
The women did not need to hear the end of the grizzly story.
"There, there. Hush now, girl. You did what you could to help. No one can ask more of you."
Miranda raised her tear-stained face. "But I just know I could have saved him. If he had just tried harder, if I was just a little stronger…"
"I said hush," the elder woman commanded. "And dry your eyes. We've no time to be weeping over what could have been and what should have been. We cannot mourn the dead when there are still the living to tend to."
After few more moments of offered comfort, the three crones hurried back to tend the horrible wounds and mutilations coming up from the beach. Miranda dashed away the tears that shone on her face and brushed away the thick layer of ash and soot that coated her damask skirt. By habit, she adjusted the neckline of her sheer cotton blouse, scooping it lower so that her shoulders were bared along with a breathtaking expanse of bosom. With a toss of her ebony hair she left the circle of huts and climbed the dune that overlooked the scene of the battle. Her eyes narrowed and the amber shimmered, alive with bright green flecks of anger.
The cratered, pockmarked beach stretched out below her. A haze of smoke and drifting sand hovered over the line of palm trees like a cloud of ash over a volcano. Men were running everywhere, carrying powder and shot to the cannon emplacements, buckets of water to the many fires, litters to remove the bodies that peppered the beach and dunes in unbelievable numbers. Most of the wounded had not made it up the shallow hill; a trail of broken, bleeding bodies lay face down in the hot sand.
Her sharp, quick eyes located the center of activity on the beach. She easily identified Verart Farrow and the hovering bulk of the giant Billy Seagram. Between them was the nimble, darting figure of Courtney Farrow.
The tiger eyes glittered with sudden, malicious pleasure as she envisioned the slim, auburn-haired daughter of Duncan Farrow being thrown onto a heap of lifeless bodies. Miranda relished the thought of ants and maggots feeding on the hated face, of crows and scavengers picking the bones clean and leaving them to bleach white under the sun.
"Perhaps some good will come of this day after all," she murmured. "Fight on, sweet Courtney. And be sure to lead the charge when the Yankees put their boats ashore."
Captain Willard Jennings stepped from the bow of the longboat that had transported him ashore from the Eagle, and surveyed—with great satisfaction—the damage inflicted on the pirate stronghold of Snake Island. Flanking him on either side were his senior lieutenants — Otis Falworth and Adrian Ballantine.
"A splendid job, I must say, Mr. Ballantine," Jennings nodded, his eyes darting along the smoking ruins of the beach. "Convey my congratulations to your gunners for a job well done. Extra rum all around, I should think, and…er, whatever else we keep in stores for special occasions."
"Salted mutton, sir," Lieutenant Falworth supplied dryly. "Unless we can find fresher fare here."
"By all means. By all means. Rout it out, Mr. Falworth. I will put you in charge of the acquisition of whatever goods you deem acceptable to our needs."
"Aye, sir."
The captain kept walking, his head swiveling on his stocky neck as he absorbed the full extent of his triumph. Lieutenant Ballantine was a pace or two behind, his expression blank, his body taut, as if it was taking all of his willpower to endure the formalities. Unlike the captain and Otis Falworth, Ballantine disliked gloating over the devastation his guns had wrought. He was impatient to return to the ship and to determine the condition of his own crew and armaments. But he knew too well that Jennings needed this moment of glory and that the men had earned this frenzied release from such a close brush with death.
The looting was already well underway. The village was being systematically ransacked, the women driven screaming out of their hiding places and herded together for future selection. Bedlam would reign until the small hours of the morning, and even then the rum would be flowing from the scores of puncheons the men would squirrel on board, away from the quartermaster's prying eyes.
"Down this way, I see," Jennings said, pointing toward a huddled group of prisoners surrounded by a marine guard. "God's teeth, is that what we have been fighting for two days?"
Ballantine's gaze swept over the ragged group of sullen-faced men. Most were bloodied from wounds sustained in the hand-to-handspike fighting that had been necessary to finally win the beach. Ballantine was surprised by the numbers. Barely three score raised hate-filled, glowering faces to the trio of approaching officers.
Courtney Farrow crouched near the center of the group with her uncle and Seagram. The short, squat captain and the lean, sharp-nosed officer earned hardly more than a disdainful glance; it was the third man, the tall lieutenant, who drove the film of sullenness from Courtney's eyes. She had seen only half a dozen fair-haired men in the past ten years or so. The inhabitants of the Barbary Coast were all dark skinned, with dark hair that never sun-bleached gold. And his eyes. They were the color of polished steel, cold and distant. They never stopped moving, assessing, no doubt contemplating the size of the reward that would be forthcoming on surrendering the prisoners to a Yankee court. His was the face of a man she could easily focus her hatred upon.
Captain Jennings halted beside a deep crater in the sand and brushed a speck of sand off his sleeve. "Which one of you is in command here?"
Not a single pair of eyes flickered, not a single head turned to betray their leader. For eight months the American forces had been actively engaged in fighting a war that had been dragging on for three years; for eight years the Mediterranean had been a hotbed of piracy; for eight centuries the northern coast of Africa had been the thriving center for white slavery. The corsairs of the Barbary Coast were among the most vicious, cunning, and ruthless breed of criminals imaginable. It was unlikely that any one of them would betray their leader now…or ever.
"I want to know the identity of the man in charge," Captain Jennings bristled. "I know his name is Farrow. Everart Farrow, brother to Duncan Farrow, who at this very moment swings from a yardarm on board our flagship, the Constitution, anchored off the coast of Gibraltar."
Lieutenant Ballantine's eyes were drawn away from the Eagle as he noticed a brief scuffle near the center of the prisoners. A wounded man and a young boy sat together, the man's grizzled head cradled in the lap of a large man who resembled a well-fed gorilla. The wounded man's hand clawed at the boy's wrist, apparently to caution him to silence. Ballantine guessed the age of the man to be about fifty, but the thin, wiry appearance was deceptive. He had wispy brown hair shot through with gray and gathered untidily at the nape of his neck. Torn clothing revealed skin turned leathery by the sun and rock-hard flesh covered with a latticework of sinews and blue veins. Despite an ugly bleeding wound that covered the whole of the corsair's chest, the dark green eyes were clear and alert.
The lieutenant felt a tingle skitter along his spine and realized that he, too, was being carefully studied. The lad's huge green eyes were devouring every detail of his face and uniform—not out of casual curiosity, but out of the age-old need to know an enemy well. The centers of the emerald eyes glowed with an inner fire unlike anything the lieutenant had seen before. The boy was otherwise indistinctive. He was thin and scrawny and wore a dirty blue bandanna tied on an angle over dark, greasy hair. The boy, like most of the survivors, was wounded, but he ignored the blood seeping down his arm and seemed to be more concerned with the comfort of the other man.
The third member of the group was plainly awesome. Even seated, there seemed to be more than seven feet of him, Ballantine judged, all of it gnarled muscle and seething hostility. The giant's hair was jet black and hung shaggily to his shoulders; his mouth was scarred cruelly from a knife wound that had left him with a permanent scowl. His hands were like slabs of ham but, astonishingly, held the wounded man as if he were a piece of delicate china.
The lieutenant's concentration was broken by the sound of the captain's voice demanding once again the identity of the leader.
" 'E lies wi' 'is skull stove in down yon beach," a man near the perimeter of the group sneered. "We leads ourselves now, we do."
"Identifying marks?" Captain Jennings shrilled.
"Eh?"
The captain's face turned a dark, ugly red. He tapped his ivory walking stick against his thigh in a gesture of impatience. "Everart Farrow is known to have a tattoo of a boar's head across his chest. Should I walk down the beach in this sweltering heat and find that this…this man with his skull stove in…is not so adorned, I might be tempted to disembowel the cur who gave false information."
The corsair looked away in feigned boredom while his mates hurled insults at the American officers.
"On the other hand—" The captain crooked a forefinger at one of the nearby marines. The solder immediately seized the man who had spoken and dragged him clear of the others.
"On the other hand," the captain continued, "I could order this dog gutted now. And each man-jack of you in turn thereafter until either I have my answer or you are all dead. Now then. Where is Everart Farrow? If he is dead, I wish to know the location of the body. If he is alive and listening to me, let it be known that he was given fair warning of the deaths of his compatriots and that the blame therefore lies solely on his shoulders."
He waited a full minute in glowering silence before he struck his thigh impatiently with the ivory cane. He glanced at the marines, who held the tense and cursing corsair between them, and nodded curtly. A third marine stepped back a pace, and his saber sang in the bright sunlight. The tip of the blade slashed down faster than the eye could follow it, leaving two torn halves of a shirt and vest in its wake, and a bright red stripe of blood welling from the man's breastbone to his navel. The prisoner gaped down in horror at the parted edges of his flesh. The curses ceased but he did not flinch as the sword began a second descent.
"No! Enough!"
Lieutenant Ballantine focused swiftly on the man and the boy. Their positions had reversed. Now it was the boy who was attempting to restrain the man from rising.
"Nay, Court, leave me be. I'll not be the cause of more good men being put to the sword for the sake of a Yankee bastard's pleasure." Verart raised his voice and shouted scornfully, "I am Verart Farrow, ye murtherin' sons of whores. I am the one ye seek an' have the mark to prove it."
Captain Jennings held up the ivory cane to halt the gutting.
"Show me."
Verart struggled one-handed to bare an enormous reproduction of a charging fanged boar on his chest, barely discernible through the slick, fresh blood. The effort cost him dearly, and he slumped back into the giant's arms, the angry color draining rapidly from his cheeks.
The captain gloated as he turned to the lieutenant. "Mr. Ballantine, I will want this man transported to the Eagle at once. It should be dusk in two hours; I will want the trial and the hanging over with by then. The rest of this scum is to be chained and locked in the Eagle's brig. Mr. Rowntree—" He lifted his cane to signal the sergeant-at-arms— "I do not want to see a single tree or piece of thatch left standing on this island. Have it thoroughly searched and anything not of value burned to the ground."
"Aye, sir." The sergeant of the marines stepped aside as the captain passed, with Lieutenant Falworth close behind. They walked a dozen paces toward the well-guarded pen of women prisoners, and would have passed them by with no more than a cursory glance if a raven-haired beauty had not moved—just enough to be noticed—as they neared.
Jennings came to a dead halt and stared.
The woman looked almost untouched by the battle, unlike the others who were caked with grime and filth, their hair matted and greasy, their clothes torn and sweat-stained. Her blouse was pure white and pulled low enough on her shoulders that the fabric was threatening to pop off the magnificent fullness of her breasts. A hint of the dark aureoles was visible through the flimsy cotton, and the sharply defined peaks strained against the cloth like ripe berries. Her waist was incredibly narrow, her calves slender, and her ankles trim where they peeped out from beneath the hem of her skirt.
Jennings eyes devoured the woman's face and a tremor slithered through his loins at the thought of having such a wench beneath him. She was a rare find indeed. The unblemished oval face and the shimmering cascade of black hair surrounding it were enough to render his mouth dry and his palms clammy.
"You," he rasped. "Come here."
Miranda stood and, after a moment's hesitation, advanced with the grace of a cat, her hips playing with the sway of her skirt as if she had practiced the effect in a hall of mirrors. She was conscious of the eyes of Verart's men following her, as well as the lustful gazes of the Yankee guards, the sailors, the stubby little captain and his officers.
"You have a name?" the captain demanded.
The delicately shaped nostrils flared slightly as she nodded. She allowed the captain and Falworth an unimpaired view down the front of her blouse as she leaned forward to gingerly rub her thigh.
"You have been injured?" Jennings asked, over the catch in his throat.
"A scratch. Nothing more."
The black lashes lowered and lay in a crescent on each cheek. "Miranda," she murmured.
"Miranda." Jennings tasted the name and found it to his liking. He smiled and turned to Lieutenant Falworth. "She seems to be the least likely of the lot to be harboring the pox. Have her brought to my cabin after the prisoners are all on board."
"Aye, sir," Falworth replied, his gaze still stuck fast to the girl's cleavage.
Jennings noted the absence of activity and scowled at Sergeant Rowntree. "Well, sir? What are you waiting for? I believe I gave you your orders. I want this business with Farrow over and done with before nightfall."
Rowntree snapped to attention. "Aye, sir! Sorry, sir." He watched Jennings and Falworth stride away and added beneath his breath, "And bugger you, sir."
"Careful, Sergeant, he just may take you up on the offer."
Rowntree whirled, startled to find Lieutenant Ballantine standing directly behind him. He flushed hotly and stiffened, waiting for the inevitable reprimand and probable arrest for insubordination.
But the lieutenant only arched an eyebrow and turned his attention back to the prisoners. Recognizing a reprieve, Sergeant Rowntree shouted to a pair of guards to separate Verart Farrow from the others and bring him forward. At the sound of the order, Courtney leaped to her feet. A dirk appeared out of the folds of her clothing and was held unwaveringly in an outstretched fist.
"Stay away from him." The warning was hissed through almost bloodless lips. "I will geld the first bastard who dares to lay a hand on Verart Farrow."
"No! Court, no!" The man grunted and craned forward to snatch at a slim ankle. "Do ye hear me, I say no! God love ye, but can ye not see I am a dead man anyway. Leave it be, Court! Leave it, I say."
"I will not let them hang you like a thief," she cried angrily. "I will see us all dead where we stand before I will allow that."
The vow was scarcely past her lips when Courtney heard the smooth slip of steel leaving leather. She dropped into a crouch and spun, but the tip of Ballantine's saber was there to meet her. She stared along the gleaming steel, past the carved hilt, the rock-steady arm, and up into the deadly calm, gray eyes.
"Drop the knife, boy," he murmured.
Courtney's heart pounded within her breast. Her fury was so great she was willing to die at that moment if she could take the golden-haired bastard with her. In a movement so deft it barely caught Ballantine's eye, she flipped the dirk so that the blade was held in the throwing position.
"No, Court!" Verart leaned forward. A cough halted him before he could reach her, and a terrible gurgle of blood surged from the cavity in his chest.
Courtney tore her eyes away from the Yankee Lieutenant. The rage died as swiftly as it had risen, and she fell to her knees by her uncle's side, the dirk thudding forgotten to the dirt. Some of the tension left Ballantine's arm, but he kept the saber pointed warily at the trio—especially the giant who looked to be on the verge of erupting into violence.
Ballantine bent over cautiously and retrieved the dirk from the sand, fingering it thoughtfully for a moment, noting the sharpness of the blade.
Courtney was bowed over her uncle, clutching his shoulders as if she could infuse him with some of her strength. The coughing spasm continued until it seemed there could be no more breath in the ravaged chest. Verart's head sagged against Seagram, his eyes glazing over with an unnatural brightness. The blood-flecked lips moved feebly.
"Court. Court, can ye hear me?"
"I hear you, Uncle," she cried softly. "Oh please…please don't die. You are all I have now. Please…!"
"I am that sorry, Court," he whispered. "Truly I am. But there is nothin' to be done for it. I am all broken inside. 'Tis up to you now to see that the Farrows survive."
His eyes softened, and a hand quivered as it reached up to rest against her cheek. "Lord, how I wanted to see ye grown, child. How I wanted to see ye off this heathen land and into the likes of as fine a home as ye deserve. "It was what yer father and I both strove for. He never wanted this life for ye." A coughing spasm gripped Verart again, and it was several moments before he could continue. "There is land, Court, land in America. And a fine big house with servants to care for ye. Promise me—" his voice faded to a dry rasp—"promise me ye'll live to claim it. Promise me yer father and I have not died in vain…"
Courtney had to place her ear against his mouth to hear the final few rattled words: a name, a place—things she cared nothing about at that moment. Tears blurred her vision, and her throat was scalded with helpless rage. When she raised her head she saw a faint proud smile on her uncle's face, and a hard shine in his eyes as they flicked to a point over her shoulder.
She looked up and saw that the blond-haired officer had replaced his sword in its sheath and was silently observing them.
She looked back down at her uncle, her chest constricting with the crush of confused emotions. Verart used the last of his strength to twist his fingers into the coarse homespun cloth of her shirt and drag her close again. "Court, there's more…something ye should know…ye must be warned…Seagram…Seagram knows." He rolled his eyes up to the black-haired giant. There was sudden look of wildness in his gaze. His mouth stretched into a rigid O and his tormented body arched upward. The hand twined in Courtney's shirt tightened enough to tear a section of the shoulder seam, then went suddenly slack.
"Uncle?" she gasped. "Uncle Verart?"
The glow faded from his eyes, and a final, weary groan emptied his lungs. Courtney stared at the wizened face for a long moment, her eyes huge and swimming with horror. She drew the lifeless head to her breast, and the tears slid hotly over the fringe of her lashes, leaving two shiny, wet streaks in the filth of her cheeks. From her chin, the tears dripped squarely onto her uncle's brow and trickled into his creased eyelids so that is appeared as if he too was weeping.
Lieutenant Ballantine knelt on one knee and pressed his fingers against the corsair's throat. There was no sign of life, no pulse, no flicker of a heartbeat. He glanced around him at the sea of hostile faces, then beyond to the circle of waiting guards.
"I would not let it become common knowledge that you are related to this man in any way," he murmured. "Do you hear me, boy?"
Courtney did nothing to acknowledge his warning.
"The captain will feel cheated when he hears about this. You would be wise not to offer him a substitute."
Ballantine pushed to his feet and strode briskly out of the ring of prisoners. He snapped a series of orders to the guards and without a backward glance, headed along the beach to the waiting longboats.
Categories free kindle nation shorts, Romance of the Week, sponsored post Tags Marsha Canham, The Wind and the Sea
Kindle Nation Daily Bargain Book Alert: Emlyn Chand's FARSIGHTED Now Just 99 cents on Kindle!
January 1, 2012 by KND
Farsighted
by Emlyn Chand
4.2 stars – 102 Reviews
"Alex Kosmitoras might not have a magic wand or vampiric strength and speed, but he is a totally swoon-worthy hero that any mom would be proud to let her daughter date." -Melissa Luznicky Garrett, author of Turning Point
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Alex Kosmitoras's life has never been easy. The only other student who will talk to him is the school bully, his parents are dead-broke and insanely overprotective, and to complicate matters even more, he's blind. Just when he thinks he'll never have a shot at a normal life, a new girl from India moves into town. Simmi is smart, nice, and actually wants to be friends with Alex. Plus she smells like an Almond Joy bar. Yes, sophomore year might not be so bad after all.
Unfortunately, Alex is in store for another new arrival–an unexpected and often embarrassing ability to "see" the future. Try as he may, Alex is unable to ignore his visions, especially when they begin to suggest that Simmi is in danger. With the help of the mysterious psychic next door and new friends who come bearing gifts of their own, Alex must embark on a journey to change his future.
Overall Winner of the Dragonfly eBook Awards, 2011
Best Young Adult Fiction, Dragonfly eBook Awards, 2011
Best Debut Author, Dragonfly eBook Awards, 2011
Winner of the Alternative Booker Award, 2011
Winner of the WritersType First Chapter Competition, September 2011
"Psychic or not, you'll never see the end for this one coming! Emlyn Chand is pioneering 'the next big thing' for YA." – Emily Reese, author of Second Death
"Farsighted is an epic battle of good versus evil that moves at breakneck speed to a stunning and totally unexpected conclusion." – Terri Giuliano Long, author of In Leah's Wake
"Is Alex blind? Yes. Bullied? Yes. A victim? Absolutely not! Emlyn Chand expertly tackles high school bullying, making Farsighted both an entertaining and an educational read." – Kevin Carey-Infante, Author of Bani's Dilemma
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Categories sponsored post Tags emlyn chand, farsighted
A Brand New Kindle Freebie from One of Kindle Nation Daily's Favorite Authors: THE HALO EFFECT by M.J. Rose
Important Note: This post is dated Sunday, January 1, 2012, and the title mentioned here may remain free only until midnight PST January 5, 2012.
With hundreds of new books turning up free each day now in the Kindle Store, it can be tough to hone in on books that you will actually want to read. And most of the new free books will be free for just a day or two at a time, so we are working hard to make sure that you do not miss the ones you want!
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Please note: References to prices on this website refer to prices on the main Amazon.com website for US customers. Prices will vary for readers located outside the US, and even for US customers, prices may change at any time. Always check the price on Amazon before making a purchase.
The Halo Effect (The Butterfield Institute)
by MJ Rose
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The mutilated body of a prostitute in a nun's habit, her pubic hair shaved into a cross, appears on page one of this suspense thriller, making it plain that Rose's latest (after Sheet Music) is not for the squeamish. The novel is the first in a new series featuring the Butterfield Institute, a Manhattan sex therapy clinic employing psychiatrist Dr. Morgan Snow. One of Morgan's patients, the clever and selective call girl Cleo Thane, has written a memoir full of thinly disguised portraits of her clients, powerful men with odd fantasies and fetishes. She leaves this potentially explosive manuscript with Dr. Snow and then misses several appointments, causing Morgan to suspect foul play. Yet NYPD Det. Noah Jordain and his team, diligently pursuing leads in what's become a gory, ritualistic series of prostitute murders, have no evidence that Cleo, whose clientele puts her in a class by herself, might be a victim. Noah and Morgan are drawn to each other, but when Morgan can't persuade Noah to devote more effort to the search for Cleo, she determines to go undercover and meet Cleo's principal clients herself. Ill-equipped for this masquerade, Morgan is soon in over her head and in peril. The mystery takes second place to the catalogue of sexual eccentricities, but Cleo is an engaging guide to the world of dysfunction Rose painstakingly constructs.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
"…Poignant and riveting… This is for sure one blockbuster you don't want to miss." — Rendezvous Reviews
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"M.J. Rose is great!" — Janet Evanovich – NYTimes Bestselling Author
"M.J. Rose is great." — New York Times bestselling author Janet Evanovich
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The Circle in the Forest: A story for children, as re-told by Stephen Windwalker by Stephen Windwalker
Someone's Watching
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THE CARD (A Van Stone Novel)
By: Jim Devitt
Categories Free Book Highlighter
KND Kindle Free Book Alert for Sunday, January 1: OVER 90 BRAND NEW FREEBIES in the last 24 hours added to Our 1,500 FREE TITLES Sorted by Category, Date Added, Bestselling or Review Rating! plus … Kindle Nation fave Gary Ponzo's 5-star collection THE LAST MOUNTAIN GORILLA (Today's Sponsor – $1.29)
But first, a word from ... Today's Sponsor
The Last Mountain Gorilla (Short Story with 2 Bonus Stories)
by Gary Ponzo
5.0 stars - 3 reviews
Supports Us with Commissions Earned
BONUS STORIES: A Simple Solution: A Scientist tries to discover the cure for a rare disorder which inflicts his younger brother. Unfortunately, it may cost him his marriage in the process. Until he discovers a simple solution. The Escape Artist: A man is trying to escape from prison. But is his real objective just to leave the prison ... or is there something else he's trying to escape from?
Here's the set-up:
From 2-time Pushcart-Prize nominee, Gary Ponzo, comes a new short story about a journalist attempting to capture photos of the Last Mountain Gorilla in the Virunga National Forest. What he doesn't realize is he's being hunted by a group of militia who don't want him to know the secrets of the Mountain Gorilla's demise. A pressure-packed story from the first sentence to the last.
One Reviewer Notes:
Gary Ponzo is a talented writer whose fiction contains a sharp wit that is honed to a cutting literary voice all fiction readers should hear.
Ed Knight, Journey Books
Author Gary Ponzo began his writing career over a decade ago by writing short stories. He quickly discovered a knack for the short form. In just five years he'd published seven short stories in various publications, two of which were nominated for the very prestigious Pushcart Prize. His first novel, "A Touch of Deceit," took five years to write and one to pick clean. The story was born from his childhood experiences working in his father's candy store in Brooklyn, NY. His father was Sicilian and became friendly with some local members of a different kind of Sicilian family. Since Gary was just fifteen at the time, these family members would make sure he was protected whenever he would work late at night by himself. He soon discovered a side to the mafia not many people knew. It was these relationships which caused him to write about Sicilian FBI agent, Nick Bracco, who recruits his mafia cousin to chase down the world's most feared terrorist. "A Touch of Deceit," went on to win the 2009 Southwest Writers Novel Contest, Thriller category.
UK CUSTOMERS: Click on the title below to download
Each day's list is sponsored by one paid title. We encourage you to support our sponsors and thank you for considering them.
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Looking for a new cozy series? In the new edition of Cozy Case Files, Minotaur Books compiles the beginnings of seven charming cozy mysteries publishing in Fall 2021 for free for easy sampling.The thirteenth edition of Cozy Case Files features the latest cozies by the following authors: Ellie...
Cozy Case Files, A Cozy Mystery Sampler, Volume 13
By: Donna Andrews, Diane Kelly, Elizabeth Penney, Ellie Alexander, Jane K. Cleland, Jess Dylan, M. C. Beaton
Report Bad Listing
She's NOT afraid of the big bad wolf. Wolf shifter, Malcolm Burke, lives an ordinary life and that's just the way he likes it. Until Willow Tanner waltzes into his office and into his life. Perky, odd, and human – his new receptionist is definitely not what he's looking for. So why does his...
Willow and the Wolf (The Shifters Series Book 1)
By: Elizabeth Kelly
PROTECTED. WORSHIPPED. HIS.If the past has taught me anything, it's that the safest place for me is in Blade's arms. Our souls are two pieces of the same scarred and fragile puzzle. We got our happily ever after, and attempting to cut him out of my life is something I will never do again.Or so I...
The Devil's Promise: Blade and Sasha - Book 2.5 (The Devil's Skull MC)
By: Murphy Wallace
No summary available...
Intimate Strangers: Commercial Surrogacy in Russia and Ukraine and the Making of Truth
By: Veronika Siegl
Funding the Future: Tax Revenue Mobilization in the Pacific Island Countries (Departmental Papers)
By: Mr. David Kloeden, Mouhamadou Sy, Enakshi Das, Mr. Andrew Beaumont, Mr. Georg Eysselein, Katrina R Williams
When Owen meets Stasia his werewolf senses howl to life and he's certain of one thing: Stasia is his.He's there to be her bodyguard, not claim her as his mate. His job is close to impossible, especially since his client tries to fire him the moment they meet.But this werewolf won't back...
Hunting Season: Werewolf Bodyguard Romance (Guarded by the Shifter Book 1)
By: Kate Rudolph
This book was converted from its physical edition to the digital format by a community of volunteers. You may find it for free on the web. Purchase of the Kindle edition includes wireless delivery....
Lying Prophets
By: Eden Phillpotts
Democracy and Sovereignty in Spain: Conceptual Innovation in the Spanish Constituent Assembly of 1931 (Routledge/Canada Blanch Studies on Contemporary Spain)
By: Francisco J. Bellido
Humanitarian Journalists: Covering Crises from a Boundary Zone (Routledge Focus on Journalism Studies)
By: Martin Scott, Kate Wright, Mel Bunce
THAT DAMNED MAN IS BACK. This is not good.She isn't ready for her late husband's best friend now.Widowed Rhea Masterson is finally finding her footing again after losing her husband so suddenly three years ago.Life is good—her sons have all married and are making her the grandchildren she adores....
Just Loving Gerald (There is a Season... Book 1)
By: Calle J. Brookes
Categories free book alerts Tags gary ponzo, LAST MOUNTAIN GORILLA
Kindle Nation Daily Bargain Book Alert: LB Swan and Hope Chandler's Megan's New Year is Our eBook of the Day at just $2.99, with 5.0 Stars on 3 Reviews, and Here's a Free Sample!
Here's the set-up for L.B. Swan and Hope Chandler's Megan's New Year, just $2.99 on Kindle:
Megan Randall has been bumped from her flight home to America. Stranded and alone at the London airport on Christmas Eve, when she's offered a free holiday ticket, she thinks back to the first boy she ever kissed, a Scottish exchange student who starred with her in a high school production of Brigadoon.
Declan. The name evokes feelings she's never quite been able to dismiss.
Now, years later, the chance to find Declan again is impossible to resist. With the help of the Wish Granters, Alanna and Joe, she travels to his small Scottish village where a twist of fate casts Megan back into the role she played years earlier.
There are plenty of complications – ex-wives, blizzards, falling ladders, and the fact that if the town depends on their annual New Year's Eve performance of Brigadoon for their financial survival, they may go totally bust. But the biggest complication of all comes in the form of Declan's less worldly, but equally appealing cousin, Rory.
Megan's New Year is the charming tale of a woman who steps away from her everyday life and into a Scottish fairy tale. Even the Wish Granters, Alanna and Joe, can't help getting swept up in the romance and the chance to save the postcard-perfect village of Alloway. As the clock strikes down to midnight, Megan will have to make the choice of a lifetime. Should she reunite with a lost love or take a chance on something new?
From the reviewers:
Sooo Romantic! I love Scotland, I love Brigadoon, and I loooove the relationship between Alanna and Joe! It's great when reading a book has you thinking, something great has happened in my life – did my Wish Granters do that for me? Or better yet, will they? Keeping my eyes peeled for the next book! – Felicia Howie
Terrific and Heartwarming. It's sweet and heartwarming, but never sacchrine, and it makes you think about what happened to that proverbial guy who got away and how finding him again might really be. The Wish Granters looks like it's going to be a promising series, with lots of insights about women's lives and how what we wish for changes as we mature and age. Can't wait for the next one! – Kim Wright Riley
Cozy little Book. This is a fun, fast read. It's sweet, entertaining, and perfect for curling up in front of the fire with after your guests have gone home. – John MacQueen
Visit L.B. Swan's Amazon Page
LB Swan (a pen name) has been writing fiction for over twenty years and has published numerous works under her real name and been included in various anthologies. Her work has appeared in various journals including Del Sol Review.
She has received awards from the Writer's Digest Annual Competition and the Lorian Hemingway short fiction competition.
Email LB at thewishgranters@gmail.com, and visit TheWishGranters.net blog or friend/like The Wish Granters on FB. She'd love to hear from you.
Visit Hope Chandler's Amazon Page
Hope Chandler has been a food, wine, and travel writer for 25 years and is a two-time recipient of the Lowell Thomas Gold Award. She lives in Charlotte, NC with her family and her hobbies include Italian cooking and ballroom dancing.
And here, in the comfort of your own browser, is your free sample of Megan's New Year by LB Swan and Hope Chandler:
Categories ebook of the day Tags ebook of the day, hope chandler, lb swan, megan's new year, sponsor
Today's Kindle Daily Deal – Sunday, January 1 – Save 80% on John Rector's Gripping Thriller ALREADY GONE, plus … T.M. Souders' WAITING ON HOPE (Today's Sponsor)
But first, a word from … Today's Sponsor
Waiting On Hope
by T.M. Souders
Ten years ago, Lexie Dodson fled her home in rural Ohio, leaving behind a heartbroken brother and abandoning a devastated fiancé. While chasing her desire of a fast-paced life in the city, and the obscurity of urban life, she is shaken to her very core by an act of violence that leaves her betrayed, broken, and pregnant—and with nowhere to go but home.
Seeking refuge and facing gut-wrenching decisions, she is confronted not only with the past she left behind, but also with a love that never died—a love waiting for something to stoke the flames.
Told from the perspective of four characters, Waiting on Hope will stay with you well after the last page has been turned.
T.M. Souders was born in Johnstown, PA and grew up in a suburb outside of Pittsburgh. She graduated in 2004, from Youngstown State University, with a degree in Psychology and minor in Women's Studies. She is the author of women's fiction novel, Waiting on Hope, as well as the young adult novel, Freedom Road, to be released in late August. She currently lives in rural Ohio with her husband and children.
Each day's Kindle Daily Deal is sponsored by one paid title on Kindle Nation. We encourage you to support our sponsors and thank you for considering them.
and now … Today's Kindle Daily Deal!
Kindle Daily Deal: Already Gone
A raw, gripping thriller about the price paid for past sins, John Rector's third novel is a live wire that crackles with the intensity of a man who has nothing left to lose.
Yesterday's Price: $4.99
Today's Discount: $4.00
Kindle Daily Deal Price: $0.99 (80% off)
Categories Kindle Daily Deal Tags already gone, john rector, kindle daily deal, t.m. souders, waiting on hope


Right-click on the RadPanelBar control and choose Edit RadPanelBar Databindings from the context menu.
From the RadPanelBar properties pane, click the ellipsis button next to the DataBindings property.
Each item in the collection represents a set of data bindings between the data source and the items at a given level of the panel bar (root items, items at the first child level, and so on). You can also create an item that gives the default mapping to cover any levels not specificly mapped by another item.
To add items to the collection, click the Add button, and set the item properties in the right hand pane of the dialog.
To delete items from the collection, select the item and click the Remove button.
Typically, for each RadPanelBarItem property, there are two properties for the data binding: one is a hard-coded property value that is assigned to all panel items to which the data binding applies, the other is the name of a field from the data source from which the property value can be taken. Thus, for example, the Text property and the TextField property both set the Text of a panel item, but the Text property sets the RadPanelItem text to a hard-coded string, while the TextField property maps it to a field from the data source.
The Depth property indicates the level of panel items to which the data binding applies. If Depth is not set, the data binding applies to all panel items not mapped by another binding. The collection should contain only one item with no value assigned to the Depth property.
The FormatString property specifies how to format the text supplied by the TextField of the data source.
The DataMember property specifies the table from which to map items. This property lets you use different tables from the same DataSet to supply values at different levels of the panel bar.


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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub