"Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. It seemed older than Rome, and the stone covering it gave resistance. Besides," he added cynically, "it is said that God watches over fools and drunken men. Remain at the door, Nab," he added, loitering for a moment behind the others, "and let no one in, or out. Oh God! pardon me.
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