"I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. "Something worse, I fear," Wood replied. ‘I told her you couldn’t have been flirting, but she wouldn’t believe me.
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