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But I suppose that it did us no harm to be on the ground and ready. On the evening of the next day there was something doing. There was still some sea on, but not enough to hurt. Along about eight o'clock, I remember, I came off watch and dropped into the forec's'le to fix up my arm, which was still badly strained from hanging onto the seine-boat's painter when I was washed overboard.
I went under again and coming up heard a dull shout. There was a line beside me. "Grab hold!" yelled somebody. No need to tell me I grabbed hold. It was the seine-boat's painter. The Johnnie was still shooting and when the line tautened it came as near to pulling my arms out of my shoulders as ever I want to have them again. But I hung on.
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