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Updated: June 12, 2025
It was thus evident that the shipbroker pawned these Narratives before he absconded; but the Lord used them as I had hoped. I preached ten times in English and once in German whilst at Liverpool, and I know that several persons were brought to hear me, through having read my Narrative.
Hardy, who was in an evil temper, pitched it on to the floor and, with a few incisive remarks on levity unbecoming to age, pursued his duties in gloomy silence. A short time afterwards, however, he had to grapple with his partner's work in real earnest. For the first time in his life the genial shipbroker was laid up with a rather serious illness.
As soon as they entered port, Dick and Jake went to the office of a Spanish shipbroker, who offered them his polite sympathy. "We had very little cargo here, and when he heard there was some dyewood at San Ignacio the captain steamed off again," he explained. "What sort of a port is San Ignacio, and how far is it?" Dick asked.
"Strange he should come back after all these years," said Mrs. Kingdom; "though, to be sure, I don't know why he shouldn't. It's his native place, and his father lives here." "Who are you talking about?" inquired the captain. "Why, James Hardy," replied his sister. "I thought you said you had heard. He's coming back to Sunwich and going into partnership with old Swann, the shipbroker.
Leading me mysteriously aside, he showed certificates from the officials at Le Plateau, dating from 1859, recommending him strongly as a shipbroker for collecting emigrants libres, and significantly adding, les negres ne manquent pas. Petit Denis's face was a study when I told him that, being an Englishman, a dozen negroes were not worth to me a single "Njina."
"It can't leak out," said Hardy, "and if it does there is no direct evidence. They will never really know until you die; they can only suspect." "Very well," said the shipbroker, with a half-indulgent, half-humorous glance. "Anything to get rid of you. It's a crack-brained scheme, and could only originate with a young man whose affections have weakened his head I consent."
"His last words to me was, 'Smith, 'ave this kept quiet." "It'll be a little job for the police," urged the shipbroker. "They don't have much to do down here; they'll be as pleased as possible." "They'll worry your life out of you, sir," said the other. "You don't know what they are." "I like a little excitement," returned Mr. Swann.
It is a great thing in our favour that you have been taking him up lately." "Are you coming to the point or are you not?" demanded the shipbroker. Hardy looked cautiously round the room, and then, drawing his chair close to the bed, leaned over the prostrate man and spoke rapidly into his ear. "What?" cried the astounded Mr. Swann, suddenly sitting up in his bed. "You you scoundrel!"
"What do you want?" "A little of that skilled assistance you were speaking of." Mr. Swann made an alarming noise in his throat. Hardy sprang forward in alarm, but he motioned him back. "I was only laughing," he explained. Hardy repressed his annoyance by an effort, and endeavoured, but with scant success, to return the other's smile. "Go on," said the shipbroker, presently.
Hardy, who was in an evil temper, pitched it on to the floor and, with a few incisive remarks on levity unbecoming to age, pursued his duties in gloomy silence. A short time afterwards, however, he had to grapple with his partner's work in real earnest. For the first time in his life the genial shipbroker was laid up with a rather serious illness.
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