"Yes," said Courtenay, filling a glass with wine as he heard Boyle's

step without. He handed the glass to the chief when he entered.

"How many?" he asked.

"Huh! We've slung fifty-three Indians an' six of the crew overboard.

There's fourteen wounded natives an' five of our men in the doctor's

hands. Two Alaculofs died of funk when they set eyes on the nigger who

turned up in the life-boat. They thought--well, here's chin chin to

everybody. I'm thirsty."




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