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London, Jack, 1876-1916

"Tales of the Fish Patrol"


Pedlers were backing their wagons to the edge of the wharf, and
from the bargaining and chaffering that went on, I managed to learn
the selling price of the oysters.
"That boat must have at least two hundred dollars' worth aboard," I
calculated. "I wonder how long it took to get the load?"
"Three or four days," Charley answered. "Not bad wages for two
men--twenty-five dollars a day apiece."
The boat we were discussing, the Ghost, lay directly beneath us.
Two men composed its crew. One was a squat, broad-shouldered
fellow with remarkably long and gorilla-like arms, while the other
was tall and well proportioned, with clear blue eyes and a mat of
straight black hair. So unusual and striking was this combination
of hair and eyes that Charley and I remained somewhat longer than
we intended.
And it was well that we did. A stout, elderly man, with the dress
and carriage of a successful merchant, came up and stood beside us,
looking down upon the deck of the Ghost. He appeared angry, and
the longer he looked the angrier he grew.


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