A cry in the night!
Is it the Smee? Is it a fight? To the finish?
The Misters run to the railings, gunwales, the mizzen mast, to the fo’c’s’le, but all is black … as a black cat! But all is quiet on the nor’eastern-sou’western fronts.
“saw the wee black cat at sundown” comes the ringing from amidships.
“saw the faux-Princess crossing into the southern forest,” says the sextant.
Meanwhile The Misters pace the quarter deck and brood. Then, turning of a sudden to the crew they bark:
“Have ye see the White Smee!?”
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