"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. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. This was just what he needed. Having heard from Thames that you were better, and that your sole anxiety was about me, I came to give you the first intelligence of my escape. "Get ready the irons, Caliban.
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