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Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship "Pirate" by T. Jenkins (Thornton Jenkins) Hains
page 49 of 226 (21%)
rather take my grog in the morning at regular hours."

Thompson let his hand fall upon the table with a crash, and then sat
motionless, looking from one to the other, his long, beak-like nose
twitching convulsively.

"Steward," said he, with a nasal drawl which made his hooked nose
wrinkle, "get Mr. Trunnell a drink o' ginger pop, or milk, if he prefers
it, and then, steward, you may get Mr. Rolling a drink o' sody water.
It's hot, but I reckon it'll fizz."

"Yessah. What's yourn, cap'n?"

"You don't think there's a priest aboard here, do you, steward, hey?"

"No, sah, 'tain't likely, but I ken find out, sah. Shall I get yo' drink
fust, sah?"

"Well, I dunno, I dunno, steward; I can't think what I kin take what
won't offend these gentlemen. You might see first if there's a priest,
an' if you find one you can bring me a pint or so o' holy water. If it's
too strong for you," said he, turning toward Trunnell and myself, "I can
get the steward to dilute it for me, hey?"

Trunnell made no remark at this. The steward brought in our drinks and
informed the skipper loudly that there was no one in the crew who had
held holy orders.

"Never mind, then, steward," said Thompson. "I'll wait till it rains and
get it fresh from heaven."
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