Book,  Chapter

 1        I,  VII  |        us.”~“Very good. But what sort of a sailor are you?”~“Everyone
 2        I,  VIII |         hope that a ship of some sort would soon appear. Not only
 3        I,  XII  |       them, and when food of any sort was thrown upon the deck,
 4        I,  XIV  |         replied Servadac, with a sort of malicious triumph.~The
 5        I,  XIV  |      from Europe?—no news of any sort from London?”~“Hitherto,
 6        I,  XVII |   returned again, thus forming a sort of irregular gulf, enclosed
 7        I,  XVIII|          to say the truth, was a sort of floating emporium, conveying
 8        I,  XVIII|          tacitly recognized as a sort of leader; but although
 9        I,  XX   |        devising a method of some sort by which their present quarters
10        I,  XXII |    cannot assume anything of the sort even for a moment.”~Servadac
11        I,  XXIV |        say that a sledge of some sort could be contrived,” said
12       II,  IV   |         Rosette. “Nothing of the sort! Of course a year must have
13       II,  XV   | approached the earth, the more a sort of reserve began to spring
14       II,  XVI  |       home at occupation of this sort, and having initiated the