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November 5, 2007

Jim: The Quarry

The tempest raged, blowing up clashing waves from all directions and frothing the decks of the mighty brig, Soul of Nantucket, with thick sea foam.

Sails strained against dangerously creaking masts, yet the ship kept its course through the harrowing seas. “Ye’ll not escape me this time,” swore the ship’s able captain, massive arms wrestling the helm. From under ponderous, white eyebrows, he squinted into the storm.

A cry rang out from the main crows nest. Men instantly grabbed wicked harpoons and leapt into their boats.

The captain saw his prey and grinned. Thar she was, the Great Yellow Duck!

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