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Fifty sent home. It’s an instinct. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. Spurlock had been taken aboard that yacht with the Kanaka crew, because The Tigress was the only ship marked for departure that night.
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