"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. She could hear their footsteps upon the pavement. Cathy threw Mike a look. It has been a big night. The barometer says nothing, neither the sky nor the water; the skipper has the "feel" that out yonder there's a big blow moving.
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