Commodore Junk — page 74: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

IN DEADLY PERIL 67 “Thank God !” These were Bart’s hoarsely whispered words, choked with emotion; and directly after, as he lay there, Abel Dell felt a great, rough, trembling hand pass across his face and search about him till it reached his own, which it gripped and held with a strong, firm clasp, for there was beneath Bart’s rough, husk-like exterior a great deal of the true, loyal, loving mate- rial of which English gentlemen are made ; and when towards morning those two prisoners fell asleep in their chains, hand was still gripped in hand, while the dreams that brightened the remaining hours of their rest from penal labour were very similar, being of a rough home down beneath Devon’s lovely cliffs, where the sea ran sparkling over the clean-washed pebbles, and the handsome face of Mary smiled upon each in turn. “ Abel, mate, I’m ready for anything now,” said Bart, as they went that morning to their work. “Only say again as you forgive our lass.” “ Bart, old lad,” said Abel, hoarsely, “I’ve nought to for- give.” “Hah!” ejaculated Bart, and then he began to whistle softly as if in the highest of spirits, and looked longingly in the direction of the jungle beside the mud creek; but three days elapsed before they were set to hoe among the coffee bushes again. Bart let his chin go down upon his chest on the morn- ine when the order was given, and the overseer saw it and cracked his whip. “You sulky ruffian!” he cried. ‘ None of your sour looks with me. Get on with you!” He cracked his whip again, and Bart shuffled off, clinking his fetters loudly. “Do keep between us, Abel, lad,” he whispered, “or I E2 Gomilcbooks =