D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 88: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Cunning of a Sea Dog. 79 marks on the mackerel! you are a gentleman of the sword from ‘heel to head, and I strongly suspect that you aim, not at a sackful of crowns, but at one alone—the golden! and consecrated by the great Papa at Rome!” “The only imperishable golden crown that a man may attain, if he goes the right way about, is that too far on high to be my portion, unless I am altered more thor- oughly than by your lessons. Dear Pedro, there was once a man who made himself wings and flew up, up, up, until the sunbeams singed his wings just as he was peering ae a crack in the ether—he fell down as the deuce (eax “That luckless wight fell on the land! Now, had he fallen into the sea, a deep cushion, the sea!”—he blew a kiss over the dancing waves—‘‘he had been living to this day. Ah, messire, it is to the hasty climber that comes sudden falls. ‘Now, we seafarers hold the head steady to be inde- pendent, and no man can be greater than the inde- pendent.” “You are the wild dog talking to the one who has worn the collar,” remarked the king’s officer. “You look on us draining the pannikin of water squeezed out of the leach of the mainsail when we cannot get Schiedam; eating oat cake when we have no bolled flour bread; dining on a slice of lard and a broiled hake when we cannot do better! All this time we quaff the elixir vitae—content !”’ D’Artagnan fixed his eye on the suddenly eloquent speaker, without interrupting or mutely criticising by a frown or a smile. “You are right to keep the hatches battered down; but, if you have not made my acquaintance on a long journey, you have in a small inn, and this coffin of a cabin of the Xiphias, Why do I confide in you, a stranger? I will out with it! “Never since that warlock-priest, in France, Urbain Grandier, captivated a whole convent, was a crew of the lawless so besotted by a mortal.as by your lordship! You have heard the priest tell of another world than the land— it is the sea! We who toil on it, and are buried in it, are as remote from the landsmen as the people in those CONNIE OOOKS (C(O)