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Runciman, James, 1852-1891

"The Chequers Being the Natural History of a Public-House, Set Forth in a Loafer's Diary"

A sea drove his head against the
ship's side; the boat swung with tremendous force. Scraunch! and the
poor fellow was gone, with his head crushed like a walnut. Joe tried to
grab him with the boathook, but it was useless, and the unhappy
poltroon's body was whirled away.
"Here's a nice go for a start! Up with you, Billy!"
Then the two fishermen gained the deck, and found not a soul to meet
them. "Where the devil are they all?" Joe ran forward, and went below.
In the dim light he could see little, but he heard a sound as of men
moaning, and as his sight became accustomed to the dusk he saw several
swarthy fellows kneeling. They were kissing their crucifixes and making
a woeful noise. Joe yelled, "Where's your skipper?" but no one heeded
him, and the moaning prayers went on. With a curse Joe rushed aft. On
his way he saw the sounding rod, and he shouted, "See how much she's got
in her, Bill. There's a set of mounseers forrad there, no more good than
kittens."
Then the mate entered the after-cabin, and found a man on the floor.


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