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Scott, Michael, 1789-1835

"Tom Cringle's Log"

"
"But the rum is--ah!" drawled Gelid.
"D--n the yam and the rum too," rapped out Bang. "Why, you belly--gods,
you have interrupted such a torrent of eloquence!"
I began to guess that our friends were waxing peppery. "Why, gentlemen,
I don't know how you feel, but I am regularly done up--it is quite calm,
and I hope we shall all sleep, so good--night."
We nestled in, and the sun had risen before I was called next morning.
I hope "I rose a sadder and a wiser man. Upon that morrow's morn."
"On deck, there," said I, while dressing. Mr Peter Swop, one of the
Firebrand's master--mates, and now, in consequence of poor Handlead's
death, acting--master of the Wave, popped in his head through the
opening in the flags. "How is the weather, Mr Swop?"
"Calm all night, sir; not a breath stirring, sir."
"Are the sails shifted?" said I, "and the starboard main--shrouds
replaced?"
"They are not yet, sir; the sails are on deck, and the rigging is now
stretching, and will be all ready to get over the masthead by breakfast
time, sir."
"How is her head?"
"Why," rejoined Swop, "it has been boxing all round the compass, sir,
for these last twelve hours; at present it is north--east." "Have we
drifted much since last night, Mr Swop?"
"No, sir--much where we were, sir," rejoined the master. "There are
several pieces of wreck, and three dead bodies floating close to, sir."
By this time I was dressed, and had gone from under the awning on deck.


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U nas wspaniałe nadruki reklamowe
principle
principle
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