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Updated: June 11, 2025
"By the way," he said, "I hate to have to tell you, but I hear, and I'm afraid it's true, that Archelaus is starting bush-beating on the estate again. I met John-Willy Jacka coming back from the direction of the wood late one night with a suspicious-looking sack and a bludgeon, and next day I asked John-James if he knew anything. He didn't give anyone away, but I gathered "
"But that's Polperro, all over. Do you know what they tell about you, down to St. Ann's?" Mr. Job came from St. Ann's "They say, down there, that every man-child in Polperro is born with a patch in the seat of his " Mr. Job stood up and cast a hand behind him, to explain. . . . "I put it there to keep off the wopses," said Captain Jacka.
Before Christmas his mind was made up; and early in Christmas week he said good-bye to his wife, marched up to Four Turnings with his kit on his back, and shipped on board Boutigo's Two-Horse Conveyance for Falmouth. There was a Mr. Rogers living at Falmouth who had been a shareholder in the old "Hand and Glove" company, but had sold out over some quarrel with Mr. Job; and to him Jacka applied.
For, to tell the truth, I don't want to be seen in Polperro streets to be mixed up with this business, and my legs be so bandy that in any ordinary small clothes there's no mistaking me, even in the dark." So the Van der Werf's boat landed Jacka that night in pitch darkness half a mile west of the haven, where a ridge of rock gives shelter from the easterly swell.
"I can see with my own eyes you've been knocking dents in the deck; but I s'pose that wasn't your only object." "I reckoned to tack it over this here hole in the bulwarks where the tide swung her up against the quay-end." Captain Jacka showed him the place. "I'd have let you have a fresh plank if you'd only reported the damage in time."
Just an hour later, when Mr. Job had returned to shore in the devil's own temper to call a hasty meeting of his shareholders and Captain Hewitt along with him, with his tail between his Legs Captain Cornelisz raised the trap of the lazarette. "I'm thinking a little fresh air's no more than you deserve," said he. "But where are we, in this world?" asked Jacka.
Over went the big mainsail with a jerk that must have pitched Captain Cornelisz clean out of his bunk below; for half a minute later he comes puffing and growling up the companion and wanting to know in his best Dutch if this was the end of the world, and if not, what was it? "That's capital," says Jacka, "for I was just about stepping down to call you. See that lugger, yonder?"
He looked at his hands, and with sudden resolution turned and left her. "Where are you going?" "To fetch a hook. I'll have that view open again before nightfall, or my name's not John Penaluna." I dare say you've never heard tell of my wife's grandfather, Captain John Tackabird or Cap'n Jacka, as he was always called.
The only emotion Ishmael obtained out of Cloom came from Katie Jacka, and that was rather unhealthy, because furtive and sentimental, and he only detested it. As to his mother, that hectic, uneven creature, she was to him a loud-voiced person of tempers and tendernesses equally gusty, not a being as much "I" to herself as he was to himself.
Six of her guns had gone; her men were baling in two gangs, and still she was down a bit by the head, and her stern yawing like a terrier's tail when his head's in a rabbit-hole. And there at the tiller stood Cap'n Jacka, his bald head shining like a statue of fun, and his one eye twinkling with blessed satisfaction as he cocked it every now and then for a glance over his right shoulder. "Hullo!
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