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Updated: May 18, 2025
Wicks was amazed, but he naturally ventured no remark; and a little after, the six Currency Lasses sat down with Trent and Goddedaal to a spread of marmalade, butter, toast, sardines, tinned tongue, and steaming tea. The food was not very good, and I have no doubt Nares would have reviled it, but it was manna to the castaways.
"All right," said the clerk, and turned to the telephone. "I'm sorry," he said presently, "Mr. Goddedaal has left the ship, and no one knows where he is." "Do you pay the men's passage home?" I inquired, a sudden thought striking me. "If they want it," said the clerk; "sometimes they don't.
In the bright water into which he stared, the pictures changed and were repeated: the baresark rage of Goddedaal; the blood-red light of the sunset into which they had run forth; the face of the babbling Chinaman as they cast him over; the face of the captain, seen a moment since, as he awoke from drunkenness into remorse. And time passed, and the sun swam higher, and his torment was not abated.
But perhaps I turned on the whole with the greatest curiosity to the figure labelled "E. Goddedaal, 1st off." He whom I had never seen, he might be the identical; he might be the clue and spring of all this mystery; and I scanned his features with the eye of a detective.
"'Vast heaving!" he cried sharply; and then to Wicks: "What's that? I don't ever remember to have seen a chest weigh like that." "It's money," said Wicks. "It's what?" cried Trent. "Specie," said Wicks; "saved from the wreck." Trent looked at him sharply. "Here, let go that chest again, Mr. Goddedaal," he commanded, "shove the boat off, and stream her with a line astern."
Our porter helped to put them on, but they drove the cart themselves. The porter thinks they went down town. It was about one." "Still in time for the City of Pekin," observed Jim. "How many of them were here?" I inquired. "Three, sir, and the Kanaka," replied the clerk. "I can't somehow find out about the third, but he's gone too." "Mr. Goddedaal, the mate, wasn't here then?" I asked. "No, Mr.
Goddedaal, and stick to the old man's to mine, I mean; only I ain't going to write it up, for reasons of my own. You are. You're going to sit down right here and fill it in the way I tell you." "How to explain the loss of mine?" asked Carthew. "You never kept one," replied the captain. "Gross neglect of duty. You'll catch it." "And the change of writing?" resumed Carthew.
He sits, and smokes, and giggles, and sometimes he makes small jests; but his contributions to the art of pleasing are generally confined to looking like a gentleman and being one. No," added Stennis, "he'll never suit you, Dodd; you like more head on your liquor. You'll find him as dull as ditchwater." "Has he big blonde side-whiskers like tusks?" I asked, mindful of the photograph of Goddedaal.
There are five of us; get five chests, and divide the specie equal among the five put it at the bottom and go at it like tigers. Get blankets, or canvas, or clothes, so it won't rattle. It'll make five pretty heavy chests, but we can't help that. You, Carthew dash me! You, Mr. Goddedaal, come below. We've our share before us."
Chailly, that was the name; Chailly-en-Biere, the post town of Barbizon ah, there was the very place for any man to hide himself there was the very place for Mr. Norris, who had rambled over England making sketches the very place for Goddedaal, who had left a palette-knife on board the Flying Scud.
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