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Jacobs, W. W., 1863-1943

"Dialstone Lane, Complete"


Captain Brisket thanked him and, sucking the pencil, eyed him
thoughtfully. Then he bent to the table and wrote.
"You sign here, Peter," he said.
Mr. Tredgold smiled at the precaution, but the smile faded when he took
the paper. It was a correctly worded receipt for twenty pounds. He began
to think that he had rated the captain's intelligence somewhat too
highly.
"Ah, we've had a hard time of it," said Brisket, putting the notes into
his breast-pocket and staring hard at Captain Bowers. "When that little
craft went down, of course I went down with her. How I got up I don't
know, but when I did there was Peter hanging over the side of the boat
and pulling me in by the hair."
He paused to pat the mate on the shoulder.
"Unfortunately for us we took a different direction to you, sir," he
continued, turning to Tredgold, "and we were pulling for six days before
we were picked up by a barque bound for Melbourne. By the time she
sighted us we were reduced to half a biscuit a day each and two
teaspoonfuls o' water, and not a man grumbled. Did they, Peter?"
"Not a man," said Mr. Duckett.
"At Melbourne," said the captain, who was in a hurry to be off, "we all
separated, and Duckett and me worked our way home on a cargo-boat.


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