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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. "I hope not. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand. You are right. I knew it was only a matter of time before the boys started paying attention to you, Lucy. There were swift actions, too: a Kanaka crawled out upon the bowsprit to make taut a slack stay, while two others with pulley-blocks swarmed aloft.

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