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Updated: May 11, 2025
There was a long silence again, broken only by the occasional dip of oars, keeping the invisible boat-head to the sea. "Take my word for it, lads, it's the last we'll see of that boat again, or of Jack Cranch, or the captain's baby." "It DOES look mighty queer that the painter should slip. Jack Cranch ain't the man to tie a granny knot." "Silence!" said the invisible leader. "Listen."
He groaned, and the figure turned its head, showing a pair of little gold rings half hidden in curly black hair. "Aha! You feel some pretty well now?" it said. "Lie still so: we trim better." With a swift jerk he sculled the flickering boat-head on to a foamless sea that lifted her twenty full feet, only to slide her into a glassy pit beyond.
There was a long silence again, broken only by the occasional dip of oars, keeping the invisible boat-head to the sea. "Take my word for it, lads, it's the last we'll see of that boat again, or of Jack Cranch, or the captain's baby." "It does look mighty queer that the painter should slip. Jack Cranch ain't the man to tie a granny knot." "Silence!" said the invisible leader. "Listen."
I soon perfected my arrangements, bade farewell to Wise, and took a last look at the old man, who was sitting by the furnace fires quite passive and composed. Then our boat-head swung round, pulled by sturdy and willing hands. It was again raining, and a disagreeable wind had risen. Our course lay nearly west, and we soon knew by the strong current that we were in the creek of the Espiritu Santo.
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