"Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. ” They hesitated. CHAPTER XXII. ” Just then the man’s eyes opened. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Ben watched these manoeuvres with great interest, and strained every sinew in his frame to keep ahead of the other boats. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. I bring you tidings of an old friend. The Magdalene.
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