On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. Shortly afterwards, he re-appeared with the information that the captive was safe below; and giving the necessary directions to his crew, before many minutes had elapsed, the Zeeslang spread her canvass to the first breeze of morning. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. Had you died, I should have fully obeyed the instructions on that envelope.
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