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Updated: May 29, 2025
It brings 'em eout jest below the pint. We have got neow to cross over to the pint, huggin' the bank, so the critters shan't see us, and take a shot from there. Git yer piece ready, Captin. Ef there's tew, or more, I'll hev the fust shot and you the second. Don't speak, arter we git on to the pint, the leastest word". "I understand", said John, as he examined his rifle, to see that all was right.
"Why, yes, takin' it by and large, I've handled over consid'able many of 'em. 'Tis a critter I hate to kill, Captin', though I s'pose it seounds soft to say so. Ef 't wan't for thinkin' they'll git picked off, anyway, I dunno but I should let 'em alone altogether". "Why do you dislike to kill them?" "Well, to begin with, they're a harnsum critter.
That was one of the things that pleased old Joe about him. I fancy the old chap had suffered at the hands of other new-chums who reckoned they could teach him how to do his work. 'Captin ain't orffered me not one bit of advice, he told me with relief." Mr. Linton laughed. "Yes, I've had them here like that," he said. "Full of sublime enthusiasm for reforming Australia and all her ways.
But, I say" and anguish again settled on his brow "wot am I to call yous? I can't order you about as Mr. Jim. It wouldn't seem to come natural." "Oh, call us any old thing," said Jim, laughing. The old man pondered. "Well, I'll call yous Major an' Captin," he declared, at length. "That'll sound like a pair of workin' bullocks, an' I'll feel more at 'ome." "Right-o," said Jim, choking slightly.
As for the rest of 'em, sir, they all swim like ducks except Mr Ebbysneezer Smith, but he's took charge on by Captin Rik, so you may keep your mind easy. There's a bit o' flat beach hereabouts, an' no sea inside the reef, so we'll git ashore easy enough let's be thankful." Jim Slagg was right.
As told by Scott Mitchell, a former slave: Scott Mitchell, claims his age as somewhere in the 70's but his wool is white on the top of his head. Negroes don't whiten near as quickly as white people, evidently he is nearly 90, or there-a-bouts. "Yes'm I 'members the Civil Wah, 'cause I wuz a-livin' in Christian County whah I wuz bohn, right wif my masteh and mistress. Captin Hester and his wife.
He wore a plum-colored frock coat of the finest cloth; his green velvet waistcoat was guarded by a gold chain, which would have been the envy of a new town council; an immense opal gleamed on the breast of his embroidered shirt; and his fingers were covered with very fine rings. 'Your sarvant, Captin, said Mr. Levison, and he placed a chair for his guest.
He had not done so, however, for some time, and was on the point of crying out, when Tim exclaimed, "By the powers, captin, there's a big ship ahead!" "Lower the sail!" exclaimed Owen. "Dan and Pompey, out with your paddles." They started up at hearing their names called, and obeyed the order. "Paddle for your lives, lads!" cried Owen, keeping the canoe to the eastward. Tim was not mistaken.
"That's jest the way I expected yeou'd look", said he, "when I told ye abeout it, because ye knew I used to talk agin it, like fury. But ye see, Captin'; I aint just as I used to be, abeout some things. I'll tell ye heow it came reound, any heow, so as to sahtisfy ye I ain't crazy.
No anchors or cables were to be seen, but the seamen's bunks remained much as I imagine they had left them; and, on the side of one, some sundowner had contrived to scrawl, apparently with a heated wire, this somewhat fatuous legend: 'Occewpide by me Captin Ned Kelli Bushranger. Chrismas day 1868. Not too bad.
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