THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT

Graham helped work the lid off the barrel and peered in, not knowing whether its occupant was dead or alive.  A limp hand, blue and benumbed, gave a feeble wave. The crowd cheered again, but Annie was too far gone to squeeze out of the barrel herself. A hoop was removed; it wasn’t enough.  A saw was called for, and part of the barrel was cut away. Through this opening Annie Taylor was finally dragged, blood streaming down her clothing from a gash in her head. “Have I gone over the Falls?”, she asked wearily. And then, “I’m cold. I’ve lost my power of speech. I want to go home.”

Berton/Niagara