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Ubber tobsail haul, you sons of dogs! Haul, dere, blast you! You vant me to come over and show you?" Servilely, desperately, they obeyed him, spending their utmost strength to placate him, while the naked spirit of murder moved in every heart among them. At the tail of the brace, Conroy, with his cuts stanched, pulled with them.
He seemed invulnerable, a thing too great to strike or defy, like the white squalls that swooped from the horizon and made of the vast Villingen a victim and a plaything. His full, boastful eye traveled over them absently, and they cringed like slaves. "Belay, dere!" came his orders, overloud and galling to men surging with cowardly and insufferable haste. "Lower tobsail haul! Belay!
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