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Mr Eagle's figure started as he walked. He knew his course to Kingston, Jamaica as intimately well as you know your home when crossing from over the way to it. He ventured to stare at Mr Lawrence, who went on: The man swore and said something to his companion. "Hey, hold up! Want to sell part of them ducks?" he asked. He said something now, low and guttural, to the woman shaking her fist at him in impotent anger. His voice was almost human in tone, his attitude so sinister that she shuddered. "That's right, swear at me, too," she cried, "add insult to injury, you black imp! If it wasn't fer bein' scared of shootin' myself I'd get the gun an' shoot you, I would so!".
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"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." "Humph! an' be kept close in the house fer a week er so, an' have to take physic an' stuff. No good, Bill!" "But, Mary, there's a doctor at Bridgetown now and—" One box fruit-crackers..
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