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The trouble is that Bau-Oti can't give latitude or longitude. Says they sailed a long way from the Gilberts that's all he knows. I wonder what became of him." "I saw him a year ago on the beach at Tahiti. Said he was thinking about shipping for a cruise through the Paumotus. Well, here we are, getting close in. Heave the lead, Jackie-Jackie. Stand by to let go, Mr. Snow.
The mate's face set vindictively, and his fists clenched. "Can't touch him legally. He's got too much money now. But I can take sixty thousand dollars' worth out of his hide. I hope he is at home." "Then I hope he is, too," Grief said, with an appreciative smile. "You got the description of his island from Bau-Oti, I suppose?" "Yes, as pretty well everybody else has.
According to Bau-Oti, anchorage three hundred yards off the west shore in nine fathoms, coral patches to the southeast. There are the patches. What do you get, Jackie?" "Nine fadom." "Let go, Mr. Snow." The Uncle Toby swung to her chain, head-sails ran down, and the Kanaka crew sprang to fore and main-halyards and sheets.
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