"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. “You needn’t be anxious about that! I shall contrive to live. Michelle looked at Lucy knowingly. " "Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm," rejoined Jackson. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. I shall be delighted to rescue you.
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