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Updated: May 28, 2025
Do you be careful, Henri Marais, that God does not make of your precious oath a stone to fall upon your head and break it like a peanut-shell." "Hold your chattering tongue, old woman," said Marais furiously. "Am I to be taught my duty to my conscience and my daughter by you?" "Certainly you are, if you cannot teach them to yourself," began the vrouw, setting her hands upon her hips.
"Have you noticed a yacht in the harbor? the flag is a gold mountain on a red field." "Yes, the little peanut-shell," he said, disdainfully, "which is called the Ice Bird." "Yes, the Ice Bird. This peanut-shell, as you call it, starts to-morrow morning for Algeria. Whether it intends to stop at Bona or Algiers I do not know. You would do well to find out." "I will do so," said Wharton.
"Captain, where is the Ice Bird?" she said, turning to Wharton. "The Ice Bird? It's far behind. How could it compare in speed with the Crocodile?" "Are you sure of it?" "Yes, my lady." "Please ask one of the sailors!" Wharton did so, and was astonished when he was told that the "peanut-shell," as he called the Ice Bird, made twenty-three knots an hour, whereas the Crocodile made only twelve.
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