such a philosophickal leaning

such a philosophickal leaning, and so starv'd for Discourse, it never
occurr'd to him that other Arrangements were even possible
"I assum'd, foolishly, that we'd go in equal Thirds, and meant to ask but your Share of what I hop'd to be spending, out of my personal Funds, upon your behalf,— not to mention that buying for three, at certain Chandleries, would've got me a discount,— Ah! What matter? Best of intentions, Gentlemen, no wish to offend the First Lord,— our Great Cir?cumnavigator, after all, my Hero as a Lad...."
"We regret it, Sir," Dixon offers, "— far too much Whim-Wham."
Mason brings his Head up with a surpris'd look. "Saintly of you, con?sidering your Screams could be heard out past the Isle of Wight? Now, previously unconsulted, / am expected to join this Love-Feast,rolex submariner replica?"
Dixon and the Captain,fake uggs for sale, as if in Conspiracy, beam sweetly back till Mason can abide no more. "Very well,— tho' someone ought to have told you, Captain, of that Rutabageous Anemia which afflicts Lensmen as a Class,— the misunderstanding then should never have arisen."
"Gracious of You,jeremy scott shop, Mr. Mason," cries Dixon, heartily.
"Most generous," adds the Captain.
Tis arrang'd at last that they will be put in the Lieutenant's Mess, which is financ'd out of the Ship's Account,— that is, by the Navy,— and take their turns with the other principal Officers in dining with the Cap?tain, whose dreams of a long, uneventful Voyage and plenty of Philo-sophick Conversation would thus have been abridg'd even had the l'Grand never emerg'd above the Horizon.
On the eighth of December the Captain has an Express from the Admiralty, ordering him not to sail. "Furthermore," he informs Mason and Dixon, "Bencoolen is in the hands of the French. I see no mention of any plans to re-take the place soon. I am sorry."
"I knew it... ?" Dixon walking away shaking his head.
"We may still make the Cape of Good Hope in time," says Capt. Smith. "That'll likely be our destination, if and when they cut the Orders.”
"No one else is going there to observe," Mason says. "Odd, isn't it? You'd think there'd be a Team from somewhere."
Capt. Smith looks away, as if embarrass'd. "Perhaps there is?" he sug?gests, as gently as possible.
As they proceed down the Channel,fake uggs, "Aye, and that's the Tail of the Bolt," a sailor informs them, "where the Ramillies went down but the year Feb?ruary, losing seven hundred Souls. They were in south-west Weather, the sailing-master could not see,— he gambl'd as to which Headland it was, mistaking the Bolt for Rome Head and lost all."
"This is League for League the most dangerous Body of Water in the world," complains another. "Sands and Streams, Banks and Races, I've no Peace till we're past the Start Point and headed for the Sea."
"Can this Lad get us out all right?"
"Oh, young Smith's been around forever. Collier Sailor. If he's alive, he must have learn'd somewhat."
Passing the Start-Point at last, the cock's-comb of hilltops to star?board, the Ship leaning in the up-Channel wind, the late sun upon the heights,— more brilliant gold and blue than either Landsman has ever seen,— the Cold of approaching Night carrying an edge, the possibility that by Morning the Weather will be quite brisk indeed..."Su-ma-tra," sing the sailors of the Seahorse,