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e bull-dogs grinning through her starboard port-holes. That's the stars and stripes hanging at her peak, as far as I can make out; but it's drooping so dead that I can see nothing but a mingling of red and white, with a small patch of blue next the halliard- block. She's a pretty-looking little thing enough, and her skipper's a thorough seaman, whoever he is. Ay, she's a man-o'-war sure enough--Up go the courses and down comes the jib, all at once, man-o'-war fashion. And there's clue up royals and t'gallan's'ls--to prevent 'em from beating themselves to pieces against the spars and rigging, _that_ is, for all the canvas she could set wouldn't give her steerage-way, much less cause her to run away from us. She hasn't a pennant aloft, though--wonder how that is? And the hands on board seem to be a rum- looking lot of chaps as ever I set eyes on; no more like man-o'-war's men than we are--not a single jersey or man-o'-war collar among 'em; nor nothing like a uniform aft there. I s'pose they're economical, and want to save their regular rig for harbour service." "Well, thank God for His mercy in directing us to her," exclaimed the skipper fervently, as he lifted his cap from his head. "Our troubles are all over now, ladies," he continued, turning to the women, who were now eagerly watching the brig. "The craft is small; but she is plenty big enough to carry us all to Valparaiso; and, once there, I think we shall have very little difficulty in getting a passage home." Half an hour more of toilsome tugging at the oars, and the heavy launch ranged up alongside the brig. "Look out for a rope," shouted one of the crew, as he sprang upon the rail with a coil of line in his hand. "Heave," shouted Bob. The rope was dexterously thrown and caught; the heavy oars were laid in; and as the boat touched the brig's side a man dressed in a suit of white nankeen, his head sheltered by a broad-brimmed Panama hat, and his rather handsome sun-browned face half hidden by a thick black beard and moustache, sauntered to the gangway from the position he had occupied abaft the main-rigging, and leaning over the bulwarks remarked-- "Morning, straangers. I guess you found it hot work pullin' down to us in that heavy boat. Looks to me as though you had had rayther bad times lately." "Yes," answered the skipper. "We were burned out of our ship--the _Galatea_ of London. We have been in the boat a fortnight to-day; and for the
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