Book,  chapter

1    1,    5|    Firth of Clyde, she made seventeen miles an hour, a higher
2    2,    2|     which was not more than seventeen miles at most.~In the interim
3    2,    8| could do that easily.”~“Say seventeen,” put in John Mangles, “
4    2,    8|  and you’ve hit the mark.”~“Seventeen!” exclaimed the quartermaster. “
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