Chapter

 1 III   |       bill of lading, that is to say, the document that describes
 2 IV    |          and a grizzly beard. To say the truth, he looks older
 3 IV    |  distressing, and I was about to say a few kind words of sympathy
 4 IV    |         be does not seem able to say: his ideas do not go beyond
 5 V     | persisted.~“That’s not for me to say, sir; he ordered us eastwards,
 6 VI    |         cautious reply.~“Well to say the truth,” I answered, “
 7 VI    |        brought ahull, that is to say, she copes directly with
 8 VII   |           I thought I heard them say, ‘Here, quick, look to the
 9 VII   |      extra precautions I did not say anything to M. Letourneur,
10 VIII  |        sailors, a man named Owen say to his mates,—~“Now I just
11 VIII  |           Every one for himself, say I.”~“Why, what do you mean
12 IX    |        our only hope.”~“But, you say the fire is increasing?”~“
13 X     |        At length I heard Falsten say,—~“Well, at any rate the
14 XII   |       may be, ’tis not for me to say.” And with these words he
15 XIV   |      that he had nothing more to say, I repeated that it was
16 XVI   |        know, sir? Then all I can say is that you ought to know!”
17 XVIII |   Letourneur one day happened to say that he believed the island
18 XX    |    pitched into the sea I cannot say; but it was merely conveyed
19 XXI   |         talker, but what he does say is always very much to the
20 XXV   |    present.”~“But do you mean to say,” I further asked, “that
21 XXVIII|        of the men in the shrouds say,—~“There goes a carcase
22 XXXII |      ourselves perfectly dry. To say the truth, it was far better
23 XXXII |          sanguine I am unable to say. He holds himself very much
24 XXXIII|          a word from my mates to say to you,” he said, with all
25 XXXIII|          effrontery imaginable.~“Say on, then,” said the captain
26 XXXIV |          music, and I can safely say that the tones of the most
27 XXXVI |       the raft, I heard Flaypole say with a sneer,—~“Those who
28 XXXVII|      inquiry. I knew not what to say, and sought to evade his
29 XXXVII|   satisfaction.~“I don’t mean to say,” said he to me, “that these
30 XXXIX |       she asked again.~“I cannot say; perhaps we shall linger
31 XXXIX |        whole demeanour. I cannot say that he bears his privations
32 XL    |         opened. But I am glad to say that notwithstanding our
33 XLI   |          s foot.~“Oh yes, I dare say,” he replied, in a significant
34 XLI   |         food raw, almost I might say, alive; only Curtis, Andre
35 XLI   |      living still. Living, did I say? Ay, if such an existence
36 XLIII |     whispered in my ear,—~“Don’t say a word, Mr. Kazallon; I
37 XLIV  |   efforts (and it is needless to say that they were willing enough)
38 XLIV  |       away I heard the boatswain say to Curtis,—~“Captain, when
39 XLVI  |         of stupor I could hardly say, but at length a strange
40 LI    |    carried westwards, that is to say, towards the land.~To-day
41 LVII  |         is scarcely necessary to say that there has arisen between
42 LVII  |          a brother. A brother, I say; but may we not hope that