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then telling me some little anecdote of ships or seamen or
repeating a nautical phrase till I had learned it perfectly. I began
to see that here was one of the best of possible shipmates.

When we got to the inn, the squire and Dr. Livesey were seated
together, finishing a quart of ale with a toast in it, before they
should go aboard the schooner on a visit of inspection.

Long John told the story from first to last, with a great deal of
spirit and the most perfect truth. “That was how it were, now,
weren’t it, Hawkins?” he would say, now and again, and I could
always bear him entirely out.

The two gentlemen regretted that Black Dog had got away, but
we all agreed there was nothing to be done, and after he had been
complimented, Long John took up his crutch and departed.

“All hands aboard by four this afternoon,” shouted the squire
after him.

“Aye, aye, sir,” cried the cook, in the passage.
“Well, squire,” said Dr. Livesey, “I don’t put much faith in your
discoveries, as a general thing; but I will say this, John Silver suits

“The man’s a perfect trump,” declared the squire.
“And now,” added the doctor, “Jim may come on board with us,
may he not?”

“To be sure he may,” says squire. “Take your hat, Hawkins, and
we’ll see the ship.”

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