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The old sailor had spoken of Mother Conarty as rough-mannered, but a woman with "a good, warm heart." She proved it by taking us in to board, with no dunnage for her to hold as security. "Oh, they're good lads, I'm sure," vouched our sailor-friend, speaking of us as if we had been forecastle mates of his for twenty voyages on end ... the way of the sea! Now Mother Conarty was not stupid.
We met a sailor on the street, who, though at first a stranger, soon became our friend and, with the quick hospitality of the sea, steered us to a pub known as the Green Emerald, bought us drinks, and introduced us to Mother Conarty, the proprietress. "I'll ship ye out all right, but where's your dunnage?" We confessed that we had run away from our ships down at Sydney.
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