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Updated: May 19, 2025
To emphasize how comparatively recently the Channel had been dry land, many teeth and tusks of mammoths who used to roam its now buried forests were given up to the trawls by the ever-shifting sands. Old wreckage of every description, ancient crockery, and even a water-logged, old square-rigger that must have sunk years before were brought one day as far as the surface by the stout wire warp.
"What are you looking at?" asked the captain. "Nothing, sir," answered the man. "Then keep your eye on the mizzen-royal," said the old man, as if he were forgetting that we weren't a square-rigger. "Ay, ay, sir," said the man. The captain told me to go below and work up the latitude from the dead-reckoning, and he went forward of the deck-house and sat down to read, as he often did.
"Put up or shut up that is, provided Joey is as big a sport as his father and will undertake to sail my schooner Tyee to Sobre Vista and back." "Oh, she's a schooner!" There was relief in Joey's voice. "Why, I'll sail any vessel with a fore-and-aft rig. I thought perhaps you were trying to ring in a square-rigger on me, and I'm not familiar with them. But a schooner pooh! Pie for little Joey!"
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