They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. Firmly built, as it was, the bridge creaked in such a manner with their contending efforts, that Abraham durst not venture beyond the door, where he stood, holding the light, a horrified spectator of the scene. ‘To where has he gone off?’ ‘No use asking me,’ shrugged the captain.
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