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Updated: July 29, 2025
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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