Tales of the Fish Patrol by Jack London
page 76 of 117 (64%)
page 76 of 117 (64%)
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"Yes, and a knife, too," the other sailor added.
It was Ole Ericsen's turn to groan. "What for a Svaidish faller like me monkey with none of my biziness, I don't know," he soliloquized. A bullet glanced on the stern and sang off to starboard like a spiteful bee. "There's nothing to do but plump the Mary Rebecca ashore and run for it," was the verdict of the first cheerful sailor. "And leaf der Mary Rebecca?" Ole demanded, with unspeakable horror in his voice. "Not unless you want to," was the response. "But I don't want to be within a thousand miles of her when those fellers come aboard"-- indicating the bedlam of excited Greeks towing behind. We were right in at Collinsville then, and went foaming by within biscuit-toss of the wharf. "I only hope the wind holds out," Charley said, stealing a glance at our prisoners. "What of der wind?" Ole demanded disconsolately. "Der river will not hold out, and then . . . and then . . ." "It's head for tall timber, and the Greeks take the hindermost," adjudged the cheerful sailor, while Ole was stuttering over what would happen when we came to the end of the river. |
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