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- 5228
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
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- 5198
- text
- days elapsed before he returned.
Bent upon reclaiming him, they had taken him on board the ship; feasted
him in the cabin; and, finding that of no avail, down they thrust him
into the hold, in double irons, and on bread and water. All would not
do; and so he was sent back to the Calabooza. Boy that he was, they
must have counted upon his being more susceptible to discipline than
the rest.
The interest felt in Pat’s welfare, by his benevolent countryman, was
very serviceable to the rest of us; especially as we all turned
Catholics, and went to mass every morning, much to Captain Bob’s
consternation. Upon finding it out, he threatened to keep us in the
stocks if we did not desist. He went no farther than this, though; and
so, every few days, we strolled down to the priest’s residence, and had
a mouthful to eat, and something generous to drink. In particular, Dr.
Long Ghost and myself became huge favourites with Pat’s friend; and
many a time he regaled us from a quaint-looking travelling case for
spirits, stowed away in one corner of his dwelling. It held four square
flasks, which, somehow or other, always contained just enough to need
emptying. In truth, the fine old Irishman was a rosy fellow in
canonicals. His countenance and his soul were always in a glow. It may
be ungenerous to reveal his failings, but he often talked thick, and
sometimes was perceptibly eccentric in his gait.
I never drink French brandy but I pledge Father Murphy. His health
again! And many jolly proselytes may he make in Polynesia!
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