"Well," snorted the storekeeper, "ye can see I didn't choose a knife in
my gizzard. We sailed up an' down the coast of Brazil and the Guineas
for two months, sellin' the cargo piecemeal to dirty little Portugee
traders an' smugglers. Then we h'isted the black flag and took our
first prize--an English barque goin' down to Rio. It was me saved her
crew's lives and give 'em a chance't in their longboat. They made Para
all right, I heard afterward.
"We burned that barque," proceeded the storekeeper dreamily, "after we
looted her of everything wuth while. Then----"
The door was flung open with a gust of wind behind it. A lanky,
half-grown lad stuck his head in at the opening to shrill:
"Hi! ain't ye heard 'bout it?"
"Bout what?" demanded Milt Baker.
"There's a schooner drivin' in on to the Gull Rocks," cried the news
vender. "Something gone wrong with her rudder, they say. She's goin'
spang onto the reef. Ev'rybody's down there, an' the life-savers are
comin' around from Wellriver with their gear.
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