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He is just so many strings above a beggar, though he have but two; and yet he begs too, only not in the downright 'for God's sake, but with a shrugging 'God bless you, and his face is more pined than the blind man's. Hunger is the greatest pain he takes, except a broken head sometimes, and the labouring John Dory. Otherwise his life is so many fits of mirth, and 'tis some mirth to see him.
To be sure, his character However, character has nothing to do with the eye-pleasures, and they are undeniably agreeable. Then there were his manners, and his mind such a man of the world! Of course he wasn't for one instant to be compared with Dory who was?
Almost at the same instant there was a sharp "Crack!" from the dory behind us. "The blooming sons-of-guns!" exclaimed Spike; "they're firing at us!" "Firing?" "Yes; a rifle. Look there!" There was a puff of smoke floating away from the dory. "And see that little hole in the sail. That's where the bullet went through." Spike and I dropped into the cock-pit, and crouched below the seats.
"Ahoy there!" he roared. "Any one aboard the Rosan seen or heard anything of Captain Code Schofield, of the Grande Mignon schooner Charming Lass?" Code rose out of his chair, took off his hat ironically, and swung it before him as he made a low bow. "At your service!" he shouted. "I was picked up three days ago, adrift in my dory. What do you want with me?"
"What are you going to do about it, then?" she asked. Peter Ruff coughed he seemed in an unusually amenable frame of mind, and submitted to cross-examination without murmur. "The subject of Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald," he remarked, "seemed, somehow or other, to drop into the background during our luncheon. I propose, therefore, to continue to offer to Mrs. John Dory my most respectful admiration.
Harvey's knuckles were raw and bleeding where they had been banged against the gunwale; his face was purple-blue between excitement and exertion; he dripped with sweat, and was half-blinded from staring at the circling sunlit ripples about the swiftly moving line. The boys were tired long ere the halibut, who took charge of them and the dory for the next twenty minutes.
"Think again," he said. She shook her head. "Can't see any likeness," she declared. "He did remind me a little of him just at first, though," she added, reflectively "little things he said, and sort of mannerisms. I've sort of lost sight of them the last few times, though." "When is this meeting with Fitzgerald to come off?" John Dory asked abruptly. She did not answer him at once.
Percy kept the sloop at a distance that discouraged speech, closing the gap only when Jim signaled that he wished to discharge his cargo. By ten o'clock the last hook was reached, anchor and buoy taken aboard, and the Barracouta, with two thousand pounds of fish heaped in her kids and towing astern in the dory, headed for Tarpaulin Island. The trip home was a glum one.
It was of no use to appeal to ole missus, who would not know whether she belonged to her or some one else. Miss Dory was her only hope. With promises of future good behavior and abstinence from pilfering and lying, and badness generally, she might enlist her sympathy and protection till Jake came home, when all would be right.
Presently the little green dory drew away from The Aloha, and they left her lying as much at her ease as if the phantom island before her were in every school-boy's geography, with a scale of miles and a list of the principal exports attached. "If we had diving dresses, adôn," Jarvo suggested, "we might have gone down through the sluice and entered by the lagoon where the submarines pass."
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