University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

Mind, Cap'n Trip! this ere man pays for the three
—for both of us two an' himself! cried the foremost
in doubling the captain's chair, on our way to the table;
to which very delicate intimation I had nothing
to say, as the captain did not hear them in the bustle
of making room for two or three new comers. Our
places were now secure, and I had seated myself with
a view to business—being, if I may be allowed so to
speak—in a devil of a hurry to go to work, and as
hungry as a wolf, two-thirds famished—when one of
my two associates called out to the steward in passing,
a colored man—I say, mister! this 'ere man here,
pointing to me, and then laying hold of my collar, pays
for three; mind now! ye're to look to him for all we
eat an' drink—no put out to you, I hope?

This matter stated, and the judgment of law fairly
bespoken, they seated themselves one on each side of
me—as if to make sure of a subject, much to my annoyance,
but altogether more to my amusement; for
all eyes were upon me, whenever they condescended
to open their mouths. Middleton I thought understood
the matter and compassionated my situation;
but as for Gage—I believe in my heart I should have
quarrelled with him any where else, but for the reputation
he had, so much did he appear to enjoy my
occasional embarrassment and their uncouth familiarities,
though he said nothing, and there was little in
his look to complain of, except perhaps a slight convulsive

twitching about the mouth, accompanied by a
brief contraction of the forehead, now and then, which
another might not have cared for.

Two tables were spread the whole length of the
large cabin; both were crowded at last, and I have no
doubt there were two hundred passengers, may be
more, all eating together and all talking together as
fast and as loud as they could speak, for about half
an hour.

Pray, sir—to give the reader some idea of the
scene—pray, sir, murmured a fat choleric-looking
man, opposite me, will you do me the favor to—pah!
what the devil is that! cried another at my elbow,
jumping half out of his chair and overturning a dish
of melted butter that a servant was trying to push by
his elbow. Will you do me the favor, sir, continued
the first, as to help me to a—a—to help me—to a—to
a!—growing more and more nervous and impatient,
and speaking louder and louder at every repetition,
till the murmur had became a shout—

Hullow there! bear a hand, will ye—interrupted
another.

To help me to a—to a—

Louder! louder! screamed a voice further off, like
a wretched clarionet with the reed split—louder!
louder! can't hear a word you say! Two plates encounter
each other at this moment—midway of the
table—both are smashed—the veal cutlets fly one
way and the fried fish another—louder, if you please!

I turned my head toward the speaker, and saw a
little thin man stooping half across the table with his
hand to his ear, trying to make out the bluff petition
of the choleric old gentleman, who had risen half out

of his chair, and now stood with his mouth wide open
—his head stretched toward the other—and gesticulating,
like a thorough-bred East India captain,
doubling the Cape—with bad officers—in a hurricane.

A laugh on my left obliged me to turn my head that
way. One of the down-easters had pulled a large
roasted fowl out of the dish, upon the soiled table-cloth,
and was sawing it in two mid-ships, with his
mouth full of bread-and-butter, which he kept supplied
during the whole operation.

Waiter!—wai—ter! screamed another shrill voice
afar off, so shrill as to be distinctly heard through all
the uproar, like a “wry-necked fife' at a militia muster,
or an octavo flute in a full band—haloo there! not
a waiter to be seen, by George!

Not a waiter to be seen—faith! I can see nothing
but waiters, answered somebody else.

Here, boy, here! this way an' be damned to you!
growled another. Cuss the nigger! he shouted again,
with his mouth so full he could'nt make himself heard.

Begga parron, massa! twan't my fawt, if massa
preeze.

Nor was it. The chicken—a devilish tough chicken
I thought, and so did the sufferer, I dare say, had
slipped from the clutches of the operator from down-east,
into the lap of a burly midshipman, who was
that instant reaching his plate across the table, swimming
with fish gravy—poor fellow! it turned out to
be pudding-sauce, after he had cursed the nigger
again, cleared his throat and swabbed his white kerseymeres.
Nobody knew how it got there—he had
just spread out the favorite part of a favorite fish—
and there he sat, eying it in dismay, and breathing as

if he had been under water half an hour; while the
down-easter stood leaning over the table with his knife
and fork in the air, and his eyes rivetted on the hacked
and hewed skeleton, as it tumbled from the midshipman's
lap into the settee, and from the settee into the
middle of the floor—there to be kicked about until
dinner was over.

Hulloo there! bear a hand, will ye?—what's the
matter now?—Devil to pay and no pitch hot!—There
ye go agin! sloppin' the grease all over the table
cloth!—What's that to you, I should like to know?—
Should ye?—Yes I should.—You be damned!—I say
youngster, can you tell the difference between the—
the—capital fish, hey?—the hypotheneuse of a right
angle-triangle with the stops off, and the distance between—a
mouthful o' cabbage if you please—between
time and space?—helping the other who had interrupted
him, to full half a cabbage.

No, sir! but I can tell you sir—raising his voice by
degrees, and waxing warmer and warmer as he proceeded,
till he was actually inarticulate with rage—while
the other kept on eating—-you're a—-boo—-oo—oo
—-Thank ye sir, said the other, interrupting him with
a good natured laugh—-that's what I call a smasher!

I say, you mister! thank ye for a leetle more o'
your'e sarse! The man stared, and then began to pour
out some pudding-sauce upon the offered plate—-

Dod butter it all! I did'nt see what you was a doin'
of. That aint the kind o' sarse I wanted, puddin'-gravy
to corn-fish! pulling away his plate and leaving
the sauce to run all over the table-cloth—-I wanted
cabbage or potaters, or most any sort o' garden sarse
—-there, there! most any one 'll do for me—-aint
over an' above particlar.

A short pause followed—-a breathing spell—-and the
clamor died away, voice by voice, like the prattle of
girls at a crowded party, where all talk together and
all are silent together; and then, after a minute or two,
recommenced again louder than before—-you'd have
thought the vessel afire, by the shouting and screaming.

Bread up there!—-This way nigger! Goode-goree-midee—-never
heerd nodin' like 'm! yelled the nigger,
in reply. Hourraw there, hourraw! I say steward—steward!—-this
way, my good fellow; can't you give
us a mouthful?—Stewart, I say---Hell and damnation!
must I bawl my heart out before I can make you
hear?---Ay, ay sir!—comin' directly sir.---Stewart, I
say!---Sir to you.

Here boy, here, cried another somebody, in a voice
like one suffocating with heat and thirst---take my
plate---get me a clean glass---and a bottle of---Ay, ay,
sir!---porter; an' some fruit pie---is that dried peach
or cramberry---(cram-berry! whispered Gage)---and
a small piece of fresh butter, and a—stop, stop!
aint half done yet; where the devil are ye goin'
to?—Stop! I say—But the servant was already out
of hearing.

Josh! I say Josh—slobber-cakes all gone?—Jawsh!
I say!—hand us over the big speakin' trumpet, hollar
fire, and set the big bell a-goin'! theres a good feller;
nobody 'll hear it!

Fire and fury! squeaked another `still small voice'
never seed sech a boat since I breathed the breath o'
life—driv me fust one side an' then 'tother, ever since
I cum aboard, an' never get me nothin' to eat arter
all.—One day in the courts of the lord is better

than a thousand, so I'v hearn our preacher say, an'
that's my notion of a steam-boat.—Hush your jaw
there!

Dont you say that agin!

Shet your clam!—like that better?—hold your
yop!

Tell you what, my frind: you'll run agin the eend
o' my arm if you dont look well ahead—through you,
like shell-beans, if you get me ryled in airnest!

A feller might starve here an' nobody know nothin'
about it. Nigger—I say!—nigger—stewart—nigger!
Why don't ye strangle that child?—Ma! ma!
where's ma? I want ma!—if you dont, I will, by
the Lord Harry! git out ye little tom-cat! give him
a two-and-forty pounder to play with—No ma go
away! waugh! Chuck him into the boiler! Wau—
au—augh!—I want ma!

Here a very pompous gentleman, who had not
opened his mouth before, reached over toward a short
citizen, whom I had been observing, and who was
just in the middle of a large plate of beef, reeking
with delicious blood, gravy and yellow-mustard, over
which you could see his huge bald-pate vibrating this
way and that with the regularity of a pendulum as he
cut and swallowed and sopped, and sopped and swallowed
and cut, puffing and blowing at intervals of a
minute or more, and never lifting his eyes from the
plate—reached over, as I said before, and begged him
with a sober countenance and a dignified motion of
the extended arm, speaking very slowly, and loud
enough to call the attention of the whole company
toward him—to put his fork into a potato.

The other did so—took the offered fork, and thrust

it into a potato, without looking up—and left it
there.

The pompous gentleman stared and then with
another and a lower bow and a compassionate smile
for the by-standers, he told the other he'd be obliged
to him for his fork.

Whereupon the other bowed in reply, and pulled
out the fork, without looking up, and reached it across
the table to him with such a literal innocent air, that
the midshipman who was just pouring down a tumbler
of porter, burst forth into a roar of ungovernable
laughter, scattering the foam over all his neighbours,
and showering his white kerseymeres with a new
color, as he held the empty bottle in the air with one
hand; and the empty tumbler in the other. The
laugh was so hearty—so unexpected—and so outrageous,
that all within reach of the echo were
obliged to laugh with him, before he had finished—
save and except the pompous gentleman himself who
sat swelling and heaving with rage, till he grew almost
black in the face; and the gourmand, who was too
much occupied for a laugh—looking up only once
during the whole uproar, and then with such a stare
of unsuspecting good-nature, as to set us all a-going
again, louder than ever. And now, reader, imagine
yourself surrounded for half an hour by outcries like
these already mentioned, intermixed with the following,
of which I took a memorandam the first opportunity
after I left the dinner-table.

Stewart I say!—Ay, ay, sir. Stewart! stewart!—
Here I am sir—lowering his voice, I aint deef, sir.—
Who said you was? take my plate an' be hanged to
ye; an' ax that lady there, with my compliments to

her, if she'll take a glass o' porter!—What'll you
have now sir, said another blackey, in passing our part
of the table.

Now sir! why zounds an' death, you lump of tarred
rattlin with a figger-head to match; I havent had
nothin' at all yit—your very good health marm!—
beg your pardon sir—(the speaker had just blown the
froth from his porter into the ruffled-bosom of his
next neighbor)—I was lookin' at the lady sir.

Hourra there, hourra! green peas 'll be all gone if
you don't mind your eyes, cuffee.—Thank ye for a
few more o' them air green peas—dont feel very well
somehow—never able to eat nothin' hearty when I'm
at sea!

By jingo, growled a double bass in reply—guess he
never was at sea then; eat nothin' but green peas
since he sot down—hourraw for you, cuffee!

Sir, said a well-dressed, well-bred looking man
with a short neck, a tight stiff cravat, a florid face,
drab gaiters, and hair powder that flew about the
table strangely enough, as he wiped his mouth on the
table-cloth, or helped himself, as he did frequently
from the open snuff-box at his elbow, with decided
emphasis—a—a—sir, I never could exactly understand—filling
his mouth with water and squirting it
through his teeth into what he called a finger-glass,
to the astonishment and disgust of the low-bred
natives about him—a-a—not exactly---why the colored
Americans are called cuffees.

Gerard Middleton started and sat eying the stranger---a
portentous flash going over his high pale
forehead---a swarthy glow---leaving it instantly paler
than before; and but for Gage, who interfered with

a remark that caused every body to turn that way, I
believe in my heart we should have had an immediate
interchange of cards. A stranger, I presume? said
Gage, with a most deferential bow; to which the other
returned a very encouraging smile, and a bow remarkable
for its dignity and impressiveness. Gage
continued---The people of this country sir, as you
have undoubtedly observed, are of two colors, black
and white.

Black or white, I presume sir---with a still more
encouraging bow.

As you please, my dear sir---one should be careful
in the use of copulatives in such cases---black or white
sir--or—glancing at Middleton—or half-and-half sometimes
at the south, where they are called milk-and-molasses.

Middleton's eyes flashed fire; but the imperturbable
Gage continued—

The whites in America, are the cuffers, and the
blacks are the cuffees.

Middleton smiled faintly and was turning away,
when the stranger whipped out a memorandum-book
and began writing in it with unspeakable earnestness.
The smile became a laugh, and he stopped and took
the hand of Gage with an expression that I never
shall forget while I breathe. The stranger was out
on furlough perhaps from Sheffield or Birmingham, or
peradventure from the Scotch navy, on a holiday
voyage of discovery. A book which has appeared
since, would appear to be---a-a---but no matter for
that.

I had now leisure to attend to the doings of the
company in another quarter. For my own part, I

could eat nothing---there was no time to eat---no
elbow-room—no space for swallowing; it was about
as much as one's life were worth to try where I sat,
wedged in for two thirds of my length between the
two indefatigable down-easters; so that if any one
of the whole three moved or wriggled, the other two
were certain to drop their food from their lifted-knives,
or to slop their tumblers over, on the way to
their mouths.

Here you nigger! this way—fetch me another glass
o' that air coslin' stuff, you know what (with a wink
and a laugh) I say Bob!—hourrah there! will ye
take a pull with me, if ye dare?—Will I?—try me.
Well then you-go to-hell! as the Frenchman said,
ha, ha, haw!—Same to you Swipes! You're from
Rhode-Island, hey?—An' you're from Delaware—
hey?—Not as you knows on!—Have a gardeen
'pynted for you as soon as I git ashore.—Would ye
though?

Having now made sure of a plate of soup, not so
much to eat, as to play with, I renewed my conversation
with my right-hand neighbor, and asked him how
he came to suppose me an old-countryman, as he
called me. Why, said he, us ra-al ginooines always
begin what we have to say with a wal or a why—and
then in the first place fustly, fact is, jest arter you
come aboard—eat away man! eat away! if you know
when you are well off, any body might know you're
not o' these parts—

I have divided that pie twice already, said a man
opposite, to another who wanted a share.

So you have—with yourself both times; said the
other; you remind me of the boy who complained of

his bed-fellow for taking half the bed—and why not?
said his mother? he's entitled to half, aint he? yes
mother, said the boy—but how should you like to
have him take out all the soft for his half?—he will
have his half right out o' the middle! and I have to
sleep both sides of him—

Ah! and what did his mother say? asked the literal
creature above mentioned, who had just finished his
share of the ox.

Not of these parts! how so? said I, resuming the
subject with my down-easter's friend.

Eatin' brawth fust! when there's duck an' green
peas at three dollars a peck right under your nose—
might lays in most enough to pay your passage. I
say mister—halves there! halves, I say!

The man he called to, was dividing another large
pie fore and aft with a single sweep of his cleaver.

Flimsiest cloth ever I did see—wonder what he
gin for this—lifting up a corner of the table-cloth
with one hand, and looking through it up the companion-way,
while he fed himself diligently with the
other; wonder how much that stood him in—guess if
I had him at 'Derry, he'd find it come a good deal
cheaper—put it to him leetle more'n half price for
cash, or approved endorsed notes.

Here, you nigger! gimmee you yit!—mamma!
mamma! screamed a child from the far cabin. To
which the mother screamed in reply—Hold yer yop,
George Federick Smith, if I have to come to you
I'll—boo-hoo-hoo-hoo!—will yer! Hush there,
Matildy Charlotty Smith! I'll take an' whip ye both
if ye dont shet up—I will so!—Why dont you carry
the poor little dears about in your arms Dinah? and

the female voice went off by another passage to the
deck.

Pose you tink poor ole dinah nebber had notin'
else ado, an' tote you all about a ship, hey, said the
girl, as soon as the mother was out of hearing—up
stars an' down?—Pa, pa! ma, ma! I want my pa! I
want my ma!—boo-hoo! boo-hoo! boo-hoo!—Hush
you noise, ye liddle debbil you!

Whistled the midshipman between his shut teeth.—

What's that door shot for—oh, I see—innocent Abigail!
fastened her chamber-door with a boiled carrot—.

Heered that story another way, said his companion—she
tied herself up with her garters, and left
a knife in the winder.

I say Sambo—take and care that away; care it up
on deck and empt it overboard, abaft the main-chains,
dye hear? to the wind'ard o' that are weather-gage
ye see there, pointing to the Yankee's nose. Whew—
ew—ew—!—d—d etarnal hot here, hey?—Hot as blue
blazes—my buttons are droppin' off by spoon-fulls.
That's your conceit—another conspyracy I swan!
two o' the stubbedest fellers ever I did see, and
always at it!

More green peas! more green peas!—Halloo, mister!
what are ye at now?—Beg your pardon sir.—
Blast an' set fire to your nonsense, you've stuck that
are fork into me half way up to the handle!—Hope
not sir; very sorry sir—thank ye for another spoonful
or two o' them air green peas.—Consarn it all neighbor,
if I think them are green peas 'll continner long

at this rate—better have a dip now (in a whisper to
me.) No I thank ye—Had'nt ye better?—All gone
sir, all gone! cried the waiter.—All gone!—heaven
and earth! ye dont say so!—all gone! why how ye
talk! Have'nt had a single mouthful yit! cried two
or three voices on the right and left of me, in accents
of dismay.

Jess so! cried another—jess so! And never shall
I forget the sound to my dying day; you'd have
thought his wife had fallen over-board—or his pocket-book.

Cap'n Thrip, cap'n Thrip! cried a little gentleman
what lithped, coming forward and speaking as it were
with a mouthful of cotton-wool—it aint potheble!—
Gentlemen! gentlemen! cried Nicodemus Trip from
the further part of the table—the ladies, the ladies!—
gentlemen, the ladies!

The ladies had long been trying to escape from the
back-seats—each waiting for all the others to begin
the move; and now their husband's, lover's and
father's beginning to perceive a certain paleness overspread
the faces of some who had been very cheerful
on deck, started up and made way for them to escape
as well as they could. All were imprisoned, not a
few sea-sick, and others far too sleepy or too lazy to
move, while the boat went pitching and rolling with
prodigious swiftness, and the trampling on deck was
absolutely deafening. For my own part, as I could
neither escape, unless I crawled over the table or
under it, nor get a nap where I was, I determined to
see the dinner through---and make the most of it. N.
B. I am keeping my promise now.

Cap'n Thrip, I say!---Wal sir?---Be you deef?---No,

sir, I believe not, what'll you please to have?---Why
that are plaguy boy o' yourn hath 'ad my plate thith
half hour an' more too, an' I aint git a mouthful yit;
Jess so! added the down-easter, We are all a sufferin'
here in jess exactly the same way.

Very sorry, gentlemen, very sorry indeed---what
can I help you to, this way?---Thum duck an' green
peath, if you pleath.

Lord help the man! whispered Gage, as the other
continued in a broken-hearted whisper, thatth my
only chanth here, I thee plainly!---Why stranger!
they've all ben gone this half hour, said the Kentuckian---bones
an' all; Avast there!---ben---bin---
bean---I wonder which is accordin' to Gunter? demanded
a weather beaten sea-captain, who was passing
at the moment.---None o' your---the speaker
happened to lift his eye before he finished; whereupon
he made a full stop and let the sea-captain off---
and then followed by a different passage-way, adding
I don't believe that are chap 'll ever set the north-river
afire!

Nor I---but I should'nt wonder if he was to try,
added the swapper on my left. And then turning to
me---did'nt you never hear tell Mr. Potti---Pottipher;
speaking to me with his mouth full, his plate full, both
hands full, and a heap of odds and ends piled up along
side of his plate, consisting of apples, and cheese,
cake, pie, two or three kinds of tart, which he had
tasted and rejected I thought, for he made a wry-face
over each as he laid it aside. But when every thing
else had been disposed of, he began to nibble at these
fragments, which disappeared one after another, to
my infinite amazement, before he took down his

elbows, upon which he was leaning in profound
thought---his head resting by the ears upon his clenched
hands, till he had gobbled up (or down?) every fragment,
crumb and chip of the whole; and then he lifted
his head and looked about him so innocently! as if he
could have done as much by half a peck more, without
knowing it. Judge of my surprise therefore, when I
heard him say, in a low querulous tone, just before he
left the table, that had been sick ever since last fall;
never was very rugged, an' about this time every
year, always felt wuss than ever by a darned sight---
rather pokerish too when he was on the water---no
kind o' sprawl. It aint often I eat any thing, said he;
an' when I do eat, I dont eat much---but the leetle I
do eat, dooze me good—somehow!

I say! didn't you never hear tell---continued he,
with his two eyes starting out of his head, and every
button of his coat upon the full stretch---here you
nigger! I'll have my brawth now---Bad 'nuff to be
poor nigger massa, widout hab his shin kick, said the
boy, and I thought so too.---Come, come, beauty!
lets have the brawth.

What! cried Gage—after eating fish, meat, and peas;
pudding, fruit, roast-beef and pie---to say nothing of
chickens, ducks and the five baskets you left---you're
not going to begin again with soup!

Free country neighbor—feller may eat brawth I
hope, whenever he likes, if he is able to pay for it---
or (winking at his confederate) or able to make
another pay for it, an' don't eat more 'n his 'lowance;
an' more'n all that, a feller can eat brawth when he
can't eat nothin' else to speak of.

Indeed!---To be sure! brawth 'll go where hearty

vittels wunt, I ruther guess. Nothin' better'n brawth
to fill up the chinks with; and what's more yit, I'm
of opinion that a dinner's a dinner—no matter
who pays for't. Now mister, you don't have to pay
no more for me, than that are little cock-sparrer's
dad there dooze for him; an' he aint eat more'n half
a dozen pinches o' dough since he com aboard—which
if you aint observed him yourself, you may ask the
cap'n—I say tho' mister I want you should give
me that air letter o' recommend to Feledelphy,
afore we split—as I think its like as not I may go
that way, some time or other; cost you nothin' but
the paper—and that I'm willin' to pay for. And
then turning to the other, he added—was them your
weddin' spurs 't I see, when your chist gut jounced
open frind?

Wal! I swan if I dont think you're the very feller
't had a box made for his wife 't opened like an eight-day
clock-case, the very mornin' arter he was tied
up—an' allaws cared the key with him.

How ye talk! right away from down-east aint ye,
where a cow an' a caff an' a calico gown is a gals
portion.

An' you're from the place ant ye? where a potater-patch,
with cracks int so wide, that the grass-hoppers
are picked up at the bottom by handfuls—all their
necks broke trying to jump over—is a portion for the
oldest son? And then turning to me, he said, his father
was once riding by one of the great farms he referred
to, when observing the wretchedness of the land, he
side—the fellow that owns this must be plaguy poor.
Not so poor as you think for! answered a voice from
the blackberry-bushes—for I dont own but a third on't

my father gin away one third to git a man take
tother.

Turrible sight o' rain lately—when'd you come
down?

Dreadful sight o' weather lately—when'd you come
up?—

You aint acquainted with a man by the name of—

Turney-General! said the other interrupting him
with a loud laugh—or the chief-justice o' the soopreme
Judicial court hey?

I say frind—turning to me with perfect self-possession—I'm
some tired o' that fellers gab; wish
he'd make himself skerce—all jaw like a sheeps
head—only ben tryin' out the stuff, an' you see all its
good for: and now, if you say so, I'll tell you how I
found you out.

Found me out sir—!

Found ye out—I'll tell ye—slick as a whistle! fetching
me a slap on the thigh; dont be fractious. No
fault o' your'n—people has to be born putty much
where other folks say, barrin' accidents; dare say
theres some honest folks enough to be heard of that
side o' the water—cant be helped now—make the
best on't: bear it like a man Mr. Potipher—git naite-ralized
right away, and let 'em lump it if they dont
like it, an' squirm their hides off; that's none o' your
look out—is it? All fair when you're made a
natyve.

Or a representatyve, and sent to the legisslatoore,
added Gage.

Jess so!

But sir, said I—mr—a—a—what may I call your
name?

Fairfield sir. Obadiah G. Fairfield, seventh son of
Bigah S. T. Fairfield an' Marcey his wife, both o'
Groton, old Massatusetts—can you spell Massatusetts?

No—but please to tell me how you found me out,
as you term it?

Aint tired any, air ye? Maybe you'd better lay
down, had'nt ye.—No I thank ye.—Had'nt ye better?
Not berths enough I'm afeard, whispered somebody
else. That may depend upon the length of the
passage added another, very innocently, glancing at
the ladies cabin, where a tremendous pow wow had
just broken out, Such a screaming of mothers! and
such a squalling of babies—the dear creatures—you
never heard ashore in all your life, no matter what your
profession may be, nor what your experience. No
two of the whole were quiet for five minutes together,
till the end of the passage.

Why, continued the swapper, in reply to my question:
Before we'd ben together long, you says, says
you, to that air tother chap there—a friend o' you'rn
I spose aint he?—but you dont care much about
knowin', arter all, I see.

You are mistakin—I should like to know.

Should ye! would'nt give a trifle to know, would
ye?

A trifle—yes: not much though—

O ye would, would ye?—dont know what you'd
consider a trifle—would'nt mind a drop o' somethin
to set fire to the cobwebs, would ye? Aint very
stingey, air ye?

Not very.

Thought so! look to me a right down ginerous

feller; but some folks when they're travellin' for
pleasure; plaguy close-fisted.

Indeed.

Oh yes—that they air—closer 'an button-wood-bark;
an' whatever you git out o' them, you git by
the skin o' their teeth. Wouldn't mind tellin' you
the whool—honor bright now—right off the reel, as
quick's a flash, if you'd do the thing that's hansum.

And what do you call the thing that's hansum?

Why, shell out for three—two besides yourself—
I allays bate for three, so that I may take in a friend,
now and then—

You never lose a chance to take in a friend, I dare
say?

Not I! love to be neighborly—do as you are done
by—that's my way; an' a drop or two o' real
ginoyne—what say ye to whiskey for three? with
a slap on my shoulder that I can feel to this day,
whenever I think of my unpreparedness and of the
echo that followed the blow. What say ye to whiskey
for three!

I assented, and my man was just going to clench
the bargain with a shake of the hand, when hearing
a slight rustle and turning my head quickly, I caught
a glimpse of a little scrap of paper passing under a
plate towards the fellow I was chaffering with, who,
as he pretended to look another way, though I continued
to watch him all the time, read it instantly,
with a glance at the decanter of whiskey then actually
on the table and furnished gratis to the company.—
And then he blushed—upon my soul he did!—blushed
to the very heart I dare say—adding in a different
voice, would'nt say wine for three, would ye?

Yes but I would though—to the emount of a bottle
or two.

Wal then! fact is frind Potipher—stopping to draw
a long breath—if we should happen to be snapped up,
that was the very word—snapped-up—or fired into
by one o' the innimy, twould be no more 'n what we
all desarve—might a gone by the stage—jess so!—
And with that says I—but have yer made up your
mind, hey?

My mind—for what pray—

Never to part with her.

I stared.

There now! that's right down ugly o' you: know
what I mean as well as any body.

Upon my word I do not though; I have no idea of
what you mean.

Why Lord you! (squeaking) I mean that everlastin'
time-piece o' yourn, that you concait is goold—now
have you made up your mind never to part with her—
yes or no?

No.

Uglier an' uglier, by Moses! I dont often swear,
an' when I do, I dont swear much, but the little I do
swear dooze me good! (with a still higher and sharper
squeak). But when a feller's in airnest, why the
— dickens!—cant you tell us, hey?
Hav'nt made up yer mind though, have ye?

No. But answer my question and we'll talk about
the watch afterwards.

Will yer tho'! thats a good feller! Fact is then,
talking about the British, ye said says you, they aint
any more to blame for havin' a king than we air for
havin' a president—jess so!—jess as people's brought

up, says you; some folks likes a king, an' some
doozent—poor critters! And then ye koted some
varses, pair o' varses we call 'em—about fools an adminstations,
so't I could see plain enough which side
you was on, without goin skonickin' round arter you
much further.

I remember it—

Jess so! an' then arter that, ye kind o' made
believe 't you'd never hearn tell how nigh we come
to takin' the biggest half o' the old country in one
scrape—two more privateers an' we might 'a took
tother half, as Paul Jones an' commodore Tucker told
the king to his teeth.

Nor did I ever hear of the circumstance before.
How did it happen—where—when?

There now! thats jess the way with all. To look
at ye, a body would think you'd never hearn tell o'
the revolutioniary war—nor general Gage—nor old
Put—likely story for a man o' your years. Ah, is
that you, master Puriniton? haint seed you afore—
where ye from? how long ben aboard?—where ye
gwyin' to?—what are ye doin' of South?—how'd ye
leave the family—hope the whole on 'em's well,
hey? &c. &c.

Cleverly I thank ye! And with this one reply to
the others five-and-forty question, he moved on.

Jess the way with ye all, continued Fairfield—aint
a copper to choose; never see an ole countryman yit
twould'nt face a feller down about that are story
where Gineral Washinton (which he was only a
youngster at the time) went ashore with Paul Jones

an' come pretty plaguy near carin' off the whole
royal family, crown, jewels, prince o' Wales an' all—
proper sight on 'em there was too, by all accounts—
and tippin' the ole tower into the sea. Chock full o'
prejudyce yit; any body can see that.

Prejudice! how so—in what way?

Haint forgot the ole war. May be you've never
hearn tell o' that nyther—hey?

Yes but I have though.

O, ye have, have ye? Wal thats somethin' for you
to give up any how.

For me to give up. Why what the devil do you
take me for?

Take ye for! Why for one o' the innimy.

One of the enemy!

To be sure!—an Englishman.

But I am not an Englishman.

What—not Irish I hope?—moving off with
visible trepidation.

No.

Nor Scotch?

No!

Why what on the face o' the universal airth, air ye
then?

An American sir—a native American.

You!—moving still further off, and hastily
gathering up his duds from the bench—you a natyve
American!

Yes! a native New-Englander—a through-bred
Yankee.

This was altogether too much for my conspirators.
Amos! cried one, with a look of dismay. Obadi—
ah! groaned the other; and then they interchanged a

look of such piteable amazement and perplexity, that
I could'nt help thinking they were more than half
sorry for having preyed upon their own kith and kin—
for the Yankees of old—the Hebrew Yankees were
forbidden to do this; while they were encouraged to
profit by the stranger.—It may be however that they
had only some secret misgivings, that they were afraid
of being outwitted after all, when they discovered the
truth. At this moment there was a faint cry on deck,
followed instantly—instantly—by another in a different
voice, louder and nearer and uttered with a
most apalling intonation. What my own thoughts
were I do not know; but this I do know, that all the
faces about me grew suddenly and frightfully pale, as
if death-struck, and that we all started up and stood
holding our breath and looking at one another as if—
Gracious God!—I never shall forget the unspeakable
horror of that one moment—never—never—though I
should live a thousand years!