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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"A Tale Of The Forecastle"

He dodged,
and with the dangerous iron tried to guard his head from a threatening
fist. Mr. Baker ceased grunting for a moment.--"Good! By Jove," murmured
appreciatively Mr. Creighton in the tone of a connoisseur.--"Don't tech
me," snarled Donkin, backing away.--"Then go. Go faster."--"Don't yer
'it me.... I will pull yer up afore the magistryt.... I'll show yer
up." Captain Allistoun made a long stride, and Donkin, turning his back
fairly, ran off a little, then stopped and over his shoulder showed
yellow teeth.--"Further on, fore-rigging," urged the master, pointing
with his arm.--"Are yer goin' to stand by and see me bullied?" screamed
Donkin at the silent crowd that watched him. Captain Allistoun walked
at him smartly. He started off again with a leap, dashed at the
fore-rigging, rammed the pin into its hole violently. "I'll be even
with yer yet," he screamed at the ship at large and vanished beyond
the foremast. Captain Allistoun spun round and walked back aft with a
composed face, as though he had already forgotten the scene. Men moved
out of his way. He looked at no one.--"That will do, Mr. Baker. Send
the watch below," he said, quietly.


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