Beadle's Dime Novels No. 94: The Mad Skipper — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

manner, and would probably have demolished every article of crockery upon the table, had not the doctor seized him from behind with both arms. He struggled violently to get-away, but the other having the advantage of position, contrived to maintain his hold, and soon, with a deep gasp, Collins declared that it was over. “ Pray, my friend, how often do these fits come on?” in- quired Claret, releasing him. “About once a fortnight)’ replied Collins. “Don’t be frightened, miss,” be added, glancing toward Lilian, who looked much alarmed, “it’s all over now, and mighty sorry am I that it took place in your presence. I hope you'll forgive me, and—” “Meat! meat! bring more meat!” interrupted Onoolo, rap- ping the table violently with the handle of his fork. “ Not half enough yet.” “ Ay, ay!” cried the steward, and he darted into an aah ing apartment to procure more beef. “ My friend,” said Claret, directing an anxious glance to- ward the New-Zealander, “T beg leave to remark that you will ruin your digestive organs by eating so much,” “Who you speak ?” cried the mate, with an angry frown. “Mind own business; dat way gentleman do. You no pay for meat; captain pay for him. No like you speak to me in dat way.” “T mean no offense,” replied the doctor. “If you ehoose to make yourself sick I have no more to say. Come, Lilian, let us go on deck.” They quitted the cabin, and moving to the weather-rail, stood watching the receding shores of Chiloe and the main- land, now dimly visible off the weather-quarter. The captain, with the moody, absent cxpression still upon his brow—his arms folded and his eyes fixed upon the deck, leaned agalust the mizzen-mast, a8 motionless as a statue. connicloooks.com