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One morning it was the 27th of August I was roused out of my bed by the rough voice of the innkeeper and the tremendous thumps he gave my door. “Mr. Jeorling, are you awake?” “Of course I am, Atkins. How should I be otherwise, with all that noise going on? What’s up?” “A ship six miles out in the offing, to the nor’east, steering for Christmas!” “Will it be the Halbrane?”
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