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ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
side. ’E wouldn’ stop when us got ashore, but must go right on, an’ when ’e ’ad dry clothes an’ was a bit warm, us sent un to St. Anthony with a team.
‘‘Th’ next night, an’ for nights after, I could n’ sleep. I’d keep seein’ that man standin’ on th’ ice, an’ I’d be sorter half-awake like, sayin’, ‘But’ not th’ doctor. Sure not th’ doctor.’”
There was silence for a few moments, and George Andrews looked out across the blue harbor to the sea.
“’E sent us watches an’ spy-glasses,” said he, ‘‘an’ pictures o’ hisself that one o’ you took o’ un, made large an’ in a frame. George Read an’ me ’ad th’ watches an’ th’ others ’ad th’ spy-glasses. ’Ere ’s th’ watch. It ’as ‘In memory o’ April 21st’ on
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