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- 3749
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
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- 3713
- text
- asked if he still refused duty. The response was instantaneous: “Ay,
sir, I do.” In some cases followed up by divers explanatory
observations, cut short by Wilson’s ordering the delinquent to the
cutter. As a general thing, the order was promptly obeyed—some taking a
sequence of hops, skips, and jumps, by way of showing not only their
unimpaired activity of body, but their alacrity in complying with all
reasonable requests.
Having avowed their resolution not to pull another rope of the
Julia’s—even if at once restored to perfect health—all the invalids,
with the exception of the two to be set ashore, accompanied us into the
cutter: They were in high spirits; so much so that something was
insinuated about their not having been quite as ill as pretended.
The cooper’s name was the last called; we did not hear what he
answered, but he stayed behind. Nothing was done about the Mowree.
Shoving clear from the ship, three loud cheers were raised; Flash Jack
and others receiving a sharp reprimand for it from the consul.
“Good-bye, Little Jule,” cried Navy Bob, as we swept under the bows.
“Don’t fall overboard, Ropey,” said another to the poor landlubber,
who, with Wymontoo, the Dane, and others left behind, was looking over
at us from the forecastle.
“Give her three more!” cried Salem, springing to his feet and whirling
his hat round. “You sacre dam raakeel,” shouted the lieutenant of the
party, bringing the flat of his sabre across his shoulders, “you now
keepy steel.”
The doctor and myself, more discreet, sat quietly in the bow of the
cutter; and for my own part, though I did not repent what I had done,
my reflections were far from being enviable.
- title
- Chunk 3