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Updated: June 3, 2025
There were a few clothes, a rusty pistol, an able seaman's certificate crumpled and torn almost beyond recognition. The sack of money and the chart were gone. After searching in dark corners of the fo'c's'le and fishing in the pool of leakage without discovering what they sought, the boys returned to the box. "Odd," said Jeremy at length. "Every other chest is locked fast.
Of this number, one was aft now, taking his turn at the wheel, with the skipper standing beside him, while a couple of others were lounging about, ready to slacken off or haul taut the sheets; and the remainder, whose watch below it was, were seeing to the preparations for dinner a savoury smell coming out from the fo'c's'le heads, that was most appetising to Tom and me, who were both longing to have once more a good hot meal.
Jeremy went white with anger. "An' now" Daggs' voice broke in a sudden snarl "an' now, we'll show ye how we treat such curs aboard a ten-gun buccaneer! Stand by, mates, to keel-haul him!" At this moment a second party of pirates poured swearing out of the fo'c's'le hatch, dragging Job Howland in their midst.
"I hope, though, we won't pass her in the fog, sir, or run into her, perhaps." "No fear of that, my boy: The fog is lifting now and the night will soon be as clear as a bell, for the wind is driving all the mists away. Besides, we'll take precautions against any accident happening. Mr Fosset?" "Aye, aye, sir?" "Put a couple of lookouts on the fo'c's'le." "Aye, aye, sir."
When the gang of buccaneers had tumbled down the hatch after Jeremy's cry of warning, Job Howland, barely awake, had leaped to the narrow angle that made the forward end of the fo'c's'le, seizing a pistol as he went. Intrenching himself behind a chest, with the bulkhead behind him and on both sides, he had kept the maddened crew at bay for several moments.
De first I killed was a 'harp; an' den I killed a 'hood' wid de first lick; an' den a 'jenny' an' tree 'white coats; but I took my toe to dem, an' all of 'em in a bit of a hollow not bigger den dis fo'c's'le, an' I sculped dem an' put dere sculps on a pinnacle; an' so it was all day an' de next.
I ran past him, scrambled up the fo'c's'le ladder, and gained the deck in time to see Miss Belcher emerge from the after-companion upon the dawn, her hair in a "bun," her bare feet thrust into loose felt slippers, her form wrapped in a Newmarket overcoat closely buttoned over her robe de nuit.
Then he replied to Captain West: "I didn't wait to see, sir. But it's one whale of a devil." "He's as big as a elephant, sir," volunteered Bill Quigley. "I seen'm face to face, sir. He almost got me when I run out of the fo'c's'le." "Oh, Lord, sir!" Larry moaned. "The way he hit the house, sir. It was the call to Judgment."
"You see, zur," said the skipper, gently, "he've wonderful pain, an' he've broke everything breakable that we got, an' we've got un locked in the fo'c's'le, an' " "Where's Wreck Cove?" "'Tis t' the s'uth'ard, zur," one of the men put in. "Some twelve miles beyond the Thirty Devils." The doctor opened the kitchen door and stepped out. There was no doubt about the weather. A dirty gale was blowing.
"It must be awfully big to make that great rope shake so!" The old sailor chuckled till his sides shook. "You seem wonderfully fond of whales, missy!" he exclaimed, turning round as soon as he had managed to wriggle himself out of the fo'c's'le and was able to stand erect again. "Don't you remember, you mistook those grampuses we came across the other day when going to Seaview for whales?"
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