This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. You know you don’t mean it. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be Capes’ friend.
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