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"But, darn it all, Bill," Maurice objected, "there won't be no ghost to lead the way to the stuff in the daytime.",

"Well, sir," said Mr Eagle, who uttered his convictions with the misgiving which fear of the listener excites, "my own opinion is that it wouldn't be reckoned as mutiny. It wouldn't be justice if it was called mutiny, and treated as mutiny. 'Taint the crew that breaks the agreement by refusing to do something which they never shipped to undertake, but the owner who gives 'em a job when at sea which they would have declined to hear of had they been told of it ashore. And I'm surprised," he continued, emboldened by Mr Lawrence's silence, "that Captain Acton, who is a gentleman born, and a man one could sarve all his life with satisfaction to himself and employer, should get rid of his ship and crew in such a fashion. But, perhaps, all that you say, sir, won't be found in the instructions you are to read in latitude twenty.",

"Why, yes, now that you remind me, I recollect.",

"I for one should not need to meet Lord Nelson and hear him speak of your son to fully agree in what you say, Sir William," said Lucy.

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"I say no, Tom," the other returned, surlily. "It won't be safe there. Somebody'll be sure to find it.",

"That it does," agreed Mrs. Keeler, indignantly. "An' him, poor young man, helpless through loss of his eyesight and all. You heard, of course, that Frank Stanhope and Erie Landon had broke their engagement?",

Hinter's voice brought him back to himself. "He is blind, they tell me, Billy.",

"Lucy, my dear," exclaimed Miss Acton, "play 'Now, Goody, Please to Moderate,' or 'My Lodging is on the Cold Ground,' or 'Sally in our Alley.' I do not care which. They are all very beautiful, and I know no song, brother, that carries me back like 'Sally in our Alley.' Do you remember how finely our father used to sing it? He was at Dr Burney's one night, sir," said she, talking to Mr Lawrence, "when a famous Italian singer of that day—who was it now?—she was as yellow as a guinea, and her hoops were so large there were many doors she could not pass through—who was it now? But no matter; after my father had sung she stepped over to him, and curtsying as though she would sit before him, she said: 'I have often heard this song sung and thought nothing of it. But now, sir, I shall ever regard it as the loveliest composition in English music.'"