Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. There were swift actions, too: a Kanaka crawled out upon the bowsprit to make taut a slack stay, while two others with pulley-blocks swarmed aloft. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. But the love of life prevailed over his fears. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff.
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