" "Och! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said; and right sorry am I, I struck him. from many ships. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII.
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