shouldn’t be friends. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. “My first love was all blundering,” said Capes. Acquainted with every part of the jail, Jack well knew that his only chance of effecting an escape must be by the roof.
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