Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. ‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy. He was silent. "But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. Wait!" He released himself from his aunt's embrace, ran to the trunk and fetched the old coat. Men were going hither and thither with barrows, and ladders and ropes, removing the rubbish, and trying to support the tottering habitations.
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