I had written only one word: "News."
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II
IN WHICH WE ENCOUNTER AN ARAB SHIP
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VI
THE COUNCIL IN THE CABIN
Sometimes in the night I dream of the forecastle of the Island Princess,
and see the crew sitting on chests and bunks, as vividly as if only
yesterday I had come through the hatchway and down the steps with a kid of
"salt horse" for the mess, and had found them waiting, each with his pan
and spoon and the great tin dipper of tea that he himself had brought from
the galley. There was Chips, the carpenter, who had descended for the
moment from the dignity of the steerage; calmly he helped himself to twice
his share, ignoring the oaths of the others, and washed down his first
mouthful with a great gulp of tea. Once upon a time Chips came down just
too late to get any meat, and tried to kill the cook; but as the cook
remarked to me afterwards, "Foh a drea'ful impulsive pusson, he wah n't
ve'y handy with his fists." There was Bill Hayden, who always got last
chance at the meat, and took whatever the doubtful generosity of his
shipmates had left him--poor Bill, as happy in the thought of his little
wee girl at Newburyport as if all the wealth of the khans of Tartary were
waiting for him at the end of the voyage.
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