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"Anse!" she snorted. "Who's talkin' about Anse? It's Croaker I mean. Look here what that darlin' crow brought me jest a few minutes ago." "I didn't see she 'ad, your honour." "Still begging of your honours' pardon," said Captain Weaver, "suppose the Minorca do back her topsail and we launch our boat; Mr Lawrence makes out his father and Captain Acton in the starn sheets. Will he stay to receive ye? Won't he fill on his topsail and be off?" "God love ye, byes," he cried, "it's a foine pair ye are, an' no mistake; so it's sick y've been, Maurice?".