Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. "Keep off, you accursed jade!" roared Jonathan, "—off, I say, or—" And he struck her a violent blow with his clenched hand. Heigho!" "Now for it!" cried Jack, as the couple entered the room: "the coast's clear. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper.
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