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Updated: June 7, 2025
"She has American lines, anyway," said the astute Scots engineer of the gin-mill; "it's my belief she's a yacht." "That's it," said the old salt, "a yacht! look at her davits, and the boat over the stern." "A yacht in your eye!" said a Glasgow voice. "Look at her red ensign! A yacht! not much she isn't!" "You can close the store, anyway, Tom," observed a gentlemanly German.
After retreat you could go down the irregular cobbled street from the old fair-ground where the camp was to a little square where there was a grey stone fountain and a gin-mill where you could sit at an oak table and have beer and eggs and fried potatoes served you by a girl with red cheeks and plump white appetizing arms. "Attention!" Feet and hands moved in unison again.
'I ain't allowin' for my old mother in Missoury to be told as how I dies in no gin-mill, which she shorely 'bominates of 'em. An' I don't die with no boots on, neither. "We-alls packs him back into the street ag'in, an' pulls away at his boots. About the time we gets 'em off he sags back convulsive, an' thar he is as dead as Santa Anna.
"Let's just cut across lots here and go and see Ed McGowan. This way," and they made a bee-line through a field. "Ed McGowan," repeated Handy. "Who is he?" "Big Ed? Why, he bosses the job of the crack gin-mill of the outfit, and runs things." "A good man," says Handy, "to be on the right side of, if he's all right." "Is it Ed? You bet! Why, Ed is the Pierpont Morgan of the whole lay-out.
"She has American lines, anyway," said the astute Scots engineer of the gin-mill; "it's my belief she's a yacht." "That's it," said the old salt, "a yacht! look at her davits, and the boat over the stern." "A yacht in your eye!" said a Glasgow voice. "Look at her red ensign! A yacht! not much she isn't!" "You can close the store, anyway, Tom," observed a gentlemanly German.
"The bo'sun has went and got hisself stabbed and four of the white hands are missin', and we ain't got nobody to work ship but the chinks." "We've got to have a crew, Mr. Harris, and that's all there is to it," said Captain Riggs. "You say the Greek got cut?" "Dead as a door-nail, cap'n. Went out for lamp-wicks and got hisself slit open in a gin-mill, the fool! We're turrible short-handed, cap'n."
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