It struck his forehead, splitting it, and brought him to his knees. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. " "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, who had noticed the movement; "make such another attempt, and it shall cost you your life. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment. Take the one that struck him at this moment. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE4OC4yNDIuMTU3IC0gMjEtMDktMjAyNCAxNTo0MDozOSAtIDIxODY4NTAzMw==
This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 17-09-2024 00:45:09
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8 - Ref9 - Ref10