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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Admiral Peters, by W.W. Jacobs This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: Admiral Peters Odd Craft, Part 14. Author: W.W. Jacobs Release Date: April 30, 2004 [EBook #12214] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADMIRAL PETERS *** Produced by David Widger ODD CRAFT By W.W. Jacobs ADMIRAL PETERS Mr. George Burton, naval pensioner, sat at the door of his lodgings gazing in placid content at the sea. It was early summer, and the air was heavy with the scent of flowers; Mr. Burton's pipe was cold and empty, and his pouch upstairs. He shook his head gently as he realised this, and, yielding to the drowsy quiet of his surroundings, laid aside the useless pipe and fell into a doze. [Illustration: "Sat at the door of his lodgings gazing in placid content at the sea."] He was awakened half an hour later by the sound of footsteps. A tall, strongly built man was approaching from the direction of the town, and Mr. Burton, as he gazed at him sleepily, began to wonder where he had seen him before. Even when the stranger stopped and stood smiling down at him his memory proved unequal to the occasion, and he sat staring at the handsome, shaven face, with its little fringe of grey whisker, waiting for enlightenment. "George, my buck," said the stranger, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder, "how goes it?" "D--- _Bless_ my eyes, I mean," said Mr. Burton, correcting himself, "if it ain't Joe Stiles. I didn't know you without your beard." "That's me," said the other. "It's quite by accident I heard where you were living, George; I offered to go and sling my hammock with old Dingle for a week or two, and he told me. Nice quiet little place, Seacombe. Ah, you were lucky to get your pension, George." "I deserved it," said Mr. Burton, sharply, as he fancied he detected something ambiguous in his friend's remark. "Of course you did," said Mr. Stiles; "so did I, but I didn't get it. Well, it's a poor heart that never rejoices. What about that drink you were speaking of, George?" "I hardly ever touch anything now," replied his friend. "I was thinking about myself," said Mr
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