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An Excerpt:  "The steward brought two bottles of lager beer, and Carr eagerly extended his
thin, brown hand for the creamy, tempting liquid poured out for him by the mate.
He drank it off and then laid down again.
"When are we getting out of this beastly hole, Oliver?" he asked.
"To night, I expect-that is, if the skipper comes aboard fairly sober. He
doesn't often get too much grog aboard, but this island is one of the places
where he is bound to get loaded up. The two traders ashore are countrymen of
his, I believe, though they call themselves Britishers."
Carr nodded. "Dutchmen of some kind, eh?"
"Yes, like himself. He's a Dane, though if you told him so he'd get nasty over
"He's a nasty brute, anyway," said Carr wearily. "I don't like that shifty eye
of his. And I think he's a bit of a sneak."
"You needn't think it; you can be sure of it. I'll prove it to you in a minute,"
said the mate. "Both he and that fat beast of a supercargo are a pair of sneaks,
and they hate you like poison. What have you done to offend them?"
"Nothing that I know of. But I have always suspected that neither of them are
too fond of me. Hendry I consider a low-lived scoundrel. I met his wife and
daughters in Sydney a year ago-went to his house with him. They think he's a
perfect saint, and at the time I thought so too, considering he's been in the
island trade for ten years. But I know what he is pretty well by now. He's not
fit to be married to a decent white woman and have children.""


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