Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. The one I have is a duplicate. She romanticized, imagining a life on the High Seas.
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