Half an hour afterwards the body of Jack was carefully examined. Gerald’s chest tightened. "O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil!—Gone?" cried Ireton. The air was crisp and dry. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in.
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