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the hands to work cargo.
The beachcombers beat their inglorious retreat along the shore; Herrick
first, his face dark with blood, his knees trembling under him with
the hysteria of rage. Presently, under the same purao where they had
shivered the night before, he cast himself down, and groaned aloud, and
ground his face into the sand.
'
Don't speak to me, don't speak to me. I can't stand it,' broke from
him.
The other two stood over him perplexed.
'Wot can't he stand now?' said the clerk. ''Asn't he 'ad a meal? I'M
lickin' my lips.'
Herrick reared up his wild eyes and burning face. 'I can't beg!' he
screamed, and again threw himself prone.
'This thing's got to come to an end,' said the captain with an intake of
the breath.
'
'
Looks like signs of an end, don't it?' sneered the clerk.
He's not so far from it, and don't you deceive yourself,' replied the
captain. 'Well,' he added in a livelier voice, 'you fellows hang on
here, and I'll go and interview my representative.'
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