"Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. "Put your arms about me. Blueskin, you are a true friend. Wild," said the turnkey, trembling in every joint. ‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. "Strange!" he continued, as if talking to himself. There were game watermen and game lightermen, heavy horsemen and light horsemen, scuffle-hunters, and long-apron men, lumpers, journeymen coopers, mud-larks, badgers, and ratcatchers—a race of dangerous vermin recently, in a great measure, extirpated by the vigilance of the Thames Police, but at this period flourishing in vast numbers.
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