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.
"Me cold," the gully dwarf bellowed. "All wet and
blowy here. Warm and dry in little house."
"Oh, no, you don't," Tas warned. "You're all sailors
now, and sailors don't abandon their posts because of
a little wind and spray." At that moment, a thunder-
clap rolled across the sea and rain started pattering on
the deck. "Or rain," Tas added doubtfully. He hesi-
tated. "Although rain is a lot worse than a little wind
and spray."
The gully dwarves looked at each other, then back
at Tas, confused as ever. At least they weren't retreat-
ing to the cabin anymore, but neither were they re-
turning to their positions.
Tas suddenly looked excited. "I know! I'll teach you
a sea chanty."
Individually steering the gully dwarves back to their
assigned spots, Tas started singing.
Come all you young fellows who live by the sea,
Kiss a fair maiden and then follow me.
Hoist up the sail and the anchor aweigh,
And run with the wind out through Balifor Bay.
Soon, all the gully dwarves were snorting and
stomping along with Tas's song, singing, "Hoy tup the
bale in the ankle a day," and tossing each other in the
air.
Already straining to control the sweep, Woodrow
was again concerned that the gully dwarves would
start tossing each other over the rail. At the speed they
were traveling, they'd never be able to stop and re-
cover them this time. He was about to warn Tas of the
danger when a flash of lightning struck the sea several
hundred yards from the ship. Moments later, a tre-
mendous gust of wind slammed into the little ship,
heeling it over on its port side and sending the pranc-
ing gully dwarves scurrying for handholds
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