"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. That's the way she strikes me. ’ Then he bowed, raising his hat in salute and, crossing to the coach, spoke briefly to its driver and leapt into it without looking back. " "Bring him here,—let me see him—let me embrace him—let me be assured that he is safe, and I am yours. Old saltwater was right.
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