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“They ain’t gonna catch it”

“Do you have any grappling hooks?”

“Cops took ’e hook, they’d just cut the rope and yell down, ‘Next time, buy a ticket’”

Isaac Bell saw a black stea the Cunard liner Its s “Is that the pilot boat?”

“If it ain’t, that New York pilot is going to Europe”

“Can you put me aboard it?”

“I’ll let you do the talking”

Darbee altered course slightly After fifteenacross the Lower Bay, they passed under the iside the pilot boat There were several pilots on board — so ships, others just retrieved from outbound vessels — and they eyed Darbee’s oyster boat warily

“Now,” Bell shouted

Darbee steered alongside the lowest part of the afterdeck Even the pilot boat was considerably higher than the oyster boat Bell juunnel, and pulled hi Mauretania”

One hour into his shift in the No 4 boiler room, Christian Semmler feared that his perspiration would penetrate the oilskin that protected the Talking Pictures plans He eating like a pig The other stokers had long ago stripped off their shirts

The stoking gong gave the signal to shut the door of the furnace into which he was scooping coal He dropped his shovel and looked in the half-dark, clangingplace that was safer than his soaked clothing Knowing he had only seconds before a gang boss or an engineer officer shouted for hiet back to work, he stumbled into a coal bunker Parnall Hall and Bill Cha coal to the front

“Stand watch!” he ordered, and when they turned their backs, he stuffed the flat oilskin into a narrow slot between the side of the bunker and a frame where it would be safe until the end of his shift A stoking gong rang

“You’re up!” Hall warned, and Semmler darted back to the fire aisle, scooped up a shovelful of coal, and spread it on the flaed into the open ocean, gaining speed, and the bells rang faster A door shut Another opened Semmler bent to scoop from the pile the trimmers had dropped at his feet Someone stepped on his scoop