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Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael), 1825-1894

"The Coral Island A Tale of the Pacific Ocean"

The
only difference between him and the others was his taciturnity and his
size, for he was nearly, if not quite, as large a man as the captain.
During the remainder of the afternoon I was left to my own reflections,
which were anything but agreeable; for I could not banish from my mind
the threat about the thumb-screws, of the nature and use of which I had
a vague but terrible conception. I was still meditating on my unhappy
fate, when, just after nightfall, one of the watch on deck called down
the hatchway--
"Hallo there! one o' you tumble up and light the cabin lamp, and send
that boy aft to the captain--sharp!"
"Now then, do you hear, youngster? the captain wants you. Look alive,"
said Bloody Bill, raising his huge frame from the locker on which he
had been asleep for the last two hours. He sprang up the ladder, and I
instantly followed him, and going aft was shown into the cabin by one
of the men, who closed the door after me.
A small silver lamp which hung from a beam threw a dim, soft light over
the cabin, which was a small apartment, and comfortably but plainly
furnished. Seated on a camp-stool at the table, and busily engaged in
examining a chart of the Pacific, was the captain, who looked up as I
entered, and in a quiet voice bade me be seated, while he threw down
his pencil, and rising from the table, stretched himself on a sofa at
the upper end of the cabin.
"Boy," said he, looking me full in the face, "what is your name?"
"Ralph Rover," I replied.


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