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An hour passed quickly, and up the ravine, in the deep gloom of the overhanging rocks, we made our way homeward. "You will not quit the island to-morrow," said Tardif, standing at his door, and scanning the sky with his keen, weather-wise eyes. "I must," I answered; "I must indeed, old fellow. You are no land-lubber, and you will run me over in the morning."
"Don't I, though!" roared Harvey, jamming the wheel around with a few more turns. "Why, you land-lubber, it turns the ship, same as any wheel. This is the good ship, Rattle-Bones, bound from Benton to Boston, with a cargo of meal and rats. We've lost our pilot, Bess what's her name and we've got to put her through ourselves.
Ever stop to " His attention was caught by a signal from the other vessel, and a keen-eyed sailor wig-wagged back an answer. It was all right, although at first I still remembered the timely warning regarding the slightly submerged mine. As a matter of fact, it was merely a desire of the sister ship's captain to turn around and "sweep back," as the land-lubber might term it.
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