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Islanded Chapt. 2 The Stranded Bark The gulls are wheeling o'er the bays, The ships, unrigged, at anchor ride, The sunlight broods in golden haze Upon the gently ebbing tide. "I dont see what you can do with her when we go on shore, and, unless you continue to sit there in the stern, keeping fast hold of her petticoats, I fear she will get into trouble in the boat;" said Arnheim, referring to the yellow-haired morsel who sat contentedly in the bottom, guarded by Burton's fraternal knees. "O, she knows how to behalf herself," he replied. "Do you [[strikethrough]] you [[/strikethrough]] see that dory at anchor under the bluff?" he continued after a pause. (Down Mab; and don't lean over the gun'le again)