“I fight,” said Santos, stalking to the door. “Have you no more ammunition for me, friend Cole? Then I must live you alive; adios, senhor!”
Harris cast a wistful look towards the manhole, not in cowardice, I fancy, but in sudden longing for the sea, the longing of a poor devil of a sailor-man doomed to die ashore. I am still sorry to remember that Rattray judged him differently. “Come on, skipper,” said he; “it’s all or none aboard the lugger,
“I fight,” said Santos, stalking to the door. “Have you no more ammunition for me, friend Cole? Then I must live you alive; adios, senhor!”
Harris cast a wistful look towards the manhole, not in cowardice, I fancy, but in sudden longing for the sea, the longing of a poor devil of a sailor-man doomed to die ashore. I am still sorry to remember that Rattray judged him differently. “Come on, skipper,” said he; “it’s all or none aboard the lugger,
