A Queer Race: The Story of a Strange People — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

‘ 83 A QUEER RACE. cur visitors might hear something to their disadvantage, I blew a eall on my whistle, as | generally did when I wanted Tom and he was out of ear-shot. ‘*You informed us just now that the Diana was bound from Liverpool to Montevideo. How, then, may I ask, did you find your way thither?” asked Mr. Field. ‘¢We did not find our way at all. The ship found it for us. We came by chance.” ‘‘And you actually made the passage of the Painted Rocks in safety! That was indeed an extraordinary ehance. No sea-going ship ever did the like. But you shall tell us your story on another occasion. We are come, my dear sir, to ask you to accompany us to Hair- haven, the modest capital of the Fair Island, there to make the acquaintance of our people and be presented to our queen.” ‘“You do me too much honor, gentlemen; I shall only be too delighted. You will go with me, of course, ‘l’om?” (He had just come aft. ) ‘*‘ Where you goes, | eo, Mr. Erle. Lam ready. But, I say ’— sotto voce-—‘‘ did you ever? Boy and man, I’ve been at sea two-and-thirty year 2 This would not do at all. People who could heara laugh as far off as the forecastle could hear a whisper six feet away; so, 1n order to avoid any cause of offense, ) turned from Bolsover, and, asking our piebald friends if they smoked, offered each of them a cigar, which, after saying they were extremely ‘‘ obleeged” to me, they ac- cepied. | : ‘< Have you a light, Tom?” I asked. ‘‘I am afraid I left my box below.” ‘“‘ Of course I have,” answered the boatswain. And taking a match from his waistcoat pocket, he lifted up his leg and struck it on his trousers. ‘‘ Angels and ministers of grace defend us!” exclaimed Mr. Field, turning pale and starting backward, while his companion made a still more rapid retreat, clapping his hand on the bulwark as if he were preparing to jump into the sea. ‘‘ Magic! Mr. Bolsover must be a wizard. Does he always carry fire in—in—that particular part of his person?” ) “Oh, dear, no!’ I answered, laughing. ‘‘He only struck a match. A little splinter of wood, you see. ‘The 3 GComichooks-:com —