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Updated: June 15, 2025
At first the men talked a good deal in comparatively cheerful tones while they worked, and the irrepressible Larry O'Hale even ventured to cut one or two jokes; but when night began to cover the deep with thick darkness, one after another dropped out of the conversation, and at last all were perfectly silent, except when it became necessary to give an order or answer a question, and nothing was heard save the whistling of the wind and the gurgling of the waves as they rushed past, their white crests curling over the edge of the boat as if greedy to swallow her, and gleaming like lambent fire all around.
The captain had been in low spirits that day, from what cause was not known, and no one ever found out the reason, but certain it is that he was unusually morose and gruff. He was also rather absent, and did not observe the fact that Larry O'Hale, Muggins, and Will Osten were among the crew of the boat.
It is not very long since it was found out that, by keeping well out of their way, and sailing round 'em, navigators could escape the Doldrums altogether." The captain paused at this point, and Larry O'Hale took the opportunity to break in. "D'ye know, sir," said he, "that same Gulf Strame has rose a lot o' pecooliar spekilations in my mind, which, if I may make so bowld, I'll "
From what I know of those savages, I fear they have taken our comrades away to be sacrificed, and that our own time will soon come." Something between a groan and a growl escaped from O'Hale when this was said.
The captain, too, albeit a heavy man, and fat, and addicted to panting and profuse perspiration, declared that he was game for anything, and would never be guilty of saying "die" as long as there was "a shot in the locker." As for Larry O'Hale, he was a man of iron mould, one of those giants who seem to be incapable of being worn out or crushed by any amount of physical exertion.
With his fettered hands he plucked the knife from the girdle of the dead Indian and gave it to Larry O'Hale, who at once seized it with his right hand, and, as directed, thrust the point against the stem of a neighbouring tree. The trapper applied the stout cords that bound him to its edge, and, after a few seconds of energetic sawing, was free. He instantly liberated his companions.
Next morning, true to his word, Will Osten started off to retrace his steps to San Francisco, much to the regret as well as surprise of all his friends, except Larry O'Hale and Bunco, both of whom, being aware of his motive, chuckled mightily in their sleeves but wisely said nothing.
For a considerable time they sat thus, when suddenly Will Osten started up, and, pointing towards the horizon a little to the left of the sun, exclaimed "Look there, captain; what's that?" "Land ho!" shouted Larry O'Hale at that moment, springing up on the thwart and holding on to the foremast. All the rest leaped up in great excitement. "It's only a cloud," said one.
In the kitchen the same subject was being discussed by a select party, consisting of Maryann, Mr Richards the coachman, his spouse Jemima formerly Scrubbins the baby Richards who has already been referred to as being reduced in the matter of his ablutions to a bread can and Larry O'Hale with his faithful Indian friend Bunco.
"That may be, nevertheless it behoves us to fix our future plans without delay. As there are no vessels in port just now, and we cannot tell when any will arrive, it is worth while considering whether we cannot travel by land; also, we must decide whether California or England is to be our destination." "I vote for Callyforny," said Larry O'Hale with much energy. "`Goold for ever, is my motto!
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