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fontawesome webfont
āļāļĩāđāļāđāļ āļāļāļĨ āļāļĢāļļāđāļāļāļĩāđ 4 āļāļđāđ 193 "And a half ten!" shouted the leadsman, as though he meant to have his figures understood, as they indicated the shoaling of the depth. "He is quite safe; he is a prisoner of war below, with a pair of handcuffs on his wrists," replied Christy. "You and he together made the nest for him, and he must sleep in it. I cannot say what the commodore will do with you." Instead of obeying the order, the boatman hauled in his sheet, and the sloop began to fill away. Mr. Pennant could form no idea of what the party were. It was possible that they were private citizens, and non-combatants; if they were, they had only to prove they were such by submitting to a further inquiry. "That sounds like a story for a novel," added the planter, smiling.