human
Tom, said I,
gpt
I'm sure we've not kept a straight course. The wind was on our starboard side, and our clothes were flaked with snow on that side, and now you see we've got it in our quarter. What the devil shall we do?
human
We must go on till we fall in with something, at all events,
gpt
And I expect that will be a gravel-pit, replied I;