" Spurlock grew limp in his chair. "Your health, Kneebone. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. ‘What Frenchman would that be, missie? We ain’t let no one escape. There were swift actions, too: a Kanaka crawled out upon the bowsprit to make taut a slack stay, while two others with pulley-blocks swarmed aloft. So you took my womb away, you took my baby! So I could be a monster! Because she was a monster! We are monsters!” He grabbed the top of the cannon away from her face. Ruth and Spurlock separated, the one embarrassed, the other utterly dumfounded.
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