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Updated: June 7, 2025
Astonished, Jane turned to Dennison to repeat the question, but was forestalled. "Tell Mr. Cleigh that to touch a dollar of that money would be a tacit admission that Mr. Cleigh had the right to strike Captain Dennison across the mouth." Dennison swung out of the chair and strode off toward the bridge, his shoulders flat and his neck stiff. "You struck him?" demanded Jane, impulsively.
In the doorway to the dining salon stood Cunningham, on his amazingly handsome face an expression of anxious solicitude! Cleigh was not only a big and powerful man he was also courageous, but the absence of Dodge and the presence of Cunningham offered such sinister omen that temporarily he was bereft of his natural wit and initiative. "Where's Dodge?" he asked, stupidly.
"Cunningham, if you force her I will break every bone in your body here and now!" Cleigh selected an olive and began munching it. "Nonsense!" cried Jane. "It's all awry anyhow." And she began to extract the hairpins. Presently she shook her head, and the ruddy mass of hair fell and rippled across and down her shoulders. "Well?" she said, looking whimsically into Cunningham's eyes.
Flint's face lost some of its gayety. "Oh, I know how to handle the stuff! See you later." Cleigh decided to see what the girl's temper was, so he entered the passage on the full soles of his shoes. He knocked on her door. "Miss Norman?" "Well?" That was a good sign; she was ready to talk. "I have come to repeat that offer." "Mr.
I saw by his face and his gestures that he would follow you anywhere." "But I I am only a professional nurse. I'm nobody! I haven't anything!" "Good Lord, will you listen to that?" cried the pirate, with a touch of his old banter. "Nobody and nothing?" Neither Jane nor Cleigh apparently heard this interpolation. "Why did you maltreat him?"
Cleigh, we're off on a big gamble, and if we win out ten thousand wouldn't interest me. Life on board will be exactly as it was before you put into Shanghai. More I am not at liberty to tell you." "How far is the Catwick?" "Somewhere round two thousand eight or nine days, perhaps ten. We're not piling on short of coal. It's mighty difficult to get it for a private yacht.
Cleigh laughed sardonically. "Because," went on Dennison, "he's played the game too shrewdly not to have other cards up his sleeve. He may find his pearls and return the loot." "Do you believe that? Don't talk like a fool! I tell you, his pearls are in those casings there! But, son, I'm glad to have you back. And you've found a proper mate." "Isn't she glorious?" "Better than that.
Dennison had the advantage of being able to hit right and left, at random, while his opponents were not always sure that a blow landed where it was directed. Naturally the racket drew Cleigh to the scene, and he arrived in time to see a champagne bottle descend upon the head of his son. Dennison went down.
He found an oilskin and a yellow sou'wester on the hooks. He took them down and put them on and stole out carefully, a hand extended each side to minimize the roll. He navigated the passage and came out into the salon. Cleigh was still immersed in his book. He looked up quickly, but recognizing the intruder, dropped his gaze instantly.
So he levelled his gaze upon the swinging horizon and kept it there for a time. Odd fancy, picturing the girl on the bridge in a hurricane, her hair streaming out behind her, her fine body leaning on the wind. A shadow in the doorway broke in upon this musing. Cleigh. "Come in and sit down," invited Cunningham. But Cleigh ignored the invitation and stepped over to the steersman.
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