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Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. Firmly built, as it was, the bridge creaked in such a manner with their contending efforts, that Abraham durst not venture beyond the door, where he stood, holding the light, a horrified spectator of the scene. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 10:16:35