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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Make a cop; and Pitt'll thank you on his knees." For all answer the block-of-granite little man by the wheel turned his back. "Cut the cable!" he barked. "Set studdin-sails alow and aloft! Inboard side-lights! Boniface, take a party of small-arm men forrad, and keep a sharp look-out!"
"That's our sort aboard the Tremendous, sir. We're the halleloojah lads to fight. And what we are, old Ding-dong made us." "Who's old Ding-dong?" asked the boy, breathlessly. The Gunner shot a finger at the block-of-granite figure forward. "That's the man as won the battle o the Nile," he whispered with husky magnificence. "And ere's the man that elped him." He bowed with wide hands.
They were the first words he had spoken to the lad, this block-of-granite little man, across whose knees his father had died at St. Vincent; and the boy did not find them encouraging. "Send im victoriush, Appee and gloriush, Long to reign o er i ush, Goshave "Uncle George!" bawled a bibulous voice. "Row, ye devil, row! or I'll split y'up, and chuck y'overboard."
His name, his pet name that he had not heard for days, on the lips of this block-of-granite little man, who had only spoken so far to snub him. "Mother does, sir and Gwen." There was silence; only the water talking beneath the ship's bows, as she took the open sea and began to swing to it. "Your father was my friend," continued the voice, less harsh now.
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