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The Island of Doctor Moreau.

broad back and red hair of the captain, and over his shoulder the puma spinning from a tackle rigged on to the mizzen spanker-boom.

The poor brute seemed horribly scared, and crouched in the bottom of its little cage.

“Overboard with ’em!” bawled the captain. “Overboard with ’em! We’ll have a clean ship soon of the whole bilin’ of ‘em.”

He stood in my way, so that I had perforce to tap his shoulder to come on deck. He came round with a start, and staggered back a few paces to stare at me. It needed no expert eye to tell that the man was still drunk.

“Hullo!” said he, stupidly; and then with a light coming into his eyes, “Why, it’s Mister—Mister?”

“Prendick,” said I.

“Pendick be damned!” said he. “Shut-up,—that’s your name. Mister Shut-up.”

It was no good answering the brute; but I certainly did not expect his next move. He held out his hand to the gangway by which Montgomery stood talking to a massive grey-haired man in dirty-blue flannels, who had apparently just come aboard.

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