"I can't conceive of anything," said Captain Weaver, smiling with something of pride at the Admiral and Captain Acton, "born—I don't care in what shipwright's yard, whether British or French or Roosian or Spaniard—as is going to have more than a look at the Aurora when it's her pleasure to show nothing but her heels.",
He bade her good-morning with profound respect. Her dog barked in his face, and she silenced it by lifting it under her arm.,
Anson reflected, shuddering as a long low wail came from the forest..
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