"Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. ” “By God!” said Manning, making the most of the word, “I suppose it’s fate. It's right Nantz. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. "What's the matter, father!" continued the new-comer, addressing Wood.
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