"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. I spoke a thought aloud. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip. Earles remarked genially. My work will be all sufficient.
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