"Don, keep hold of those matches, and see that they all strike fire, and I'll never preach to you again, so sure as my name is Warren Raedway." _Bang!_ A distant _boom_ from the hated ship, now low down on the sea.
"The schooner is almost out of sight," said Kit.

"She's a long way off.

Perhaps it's the last time we shall ever set eyes on her pretty figure!" "Oh, not so bad as that, I hope!" cried Raed.

"Don't go to getting poetical, Kit.

How about dinner?
That's of more consequence just now than poetry.