"Is the case of watches on board?" he asked in an under tone. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address. He was there concealed, waiting her return. I left him in charge of Quilt Arnold and Rykhart Van Galgebrok—the skipper I spoke of— with strict orders to shoot him if he made any further attempt at escape; and they're not lads—the latter especially—to be trifled with. Look at these walls.
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