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'Well, and 'oo wants Him to?' returned Huish, shrill with fury. 'You
were damned years ago for the Sea Rynger, and said so yourself. Well
then, be damned for something else, and 'old your tongue.'
The captain looked at him mistily. 'No,' he pleaded, 'no, old man! don't
do it.'
''Ere now,' said Huish, 'I'll give you my ultimytum. Go or st'y w'ere you
are; I don't mind; I'm goin' to see that man and chuck this vitriol in
his eyes. If you st'y I'll go alone; the niggers will likely knock me
on the 'ead, and a fat lot you'll be the better! But there's one thing
sure: I'll 'ear no more of your moonin', mullygrubbin' rot, and tyke it
stryte.'
The captain took it with a blink and a gulp. Memory, with phantom
voices, repeated in his cars something similar, something he had once
said to Herrick--years ago it seemed.
'Now, gimme over your pistol,' said Huish. 'I 'ave to see all clear. Six
shots, and mind you don't wyste them.'
The captain, like a man in a nightmare, laid down his revolver on the
table, and Huish wiped the cartridges and oiled the works.
It was close on noon, there was no breath of wind, and the heat was
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