tell them the thing I was going to tell them
Better than I could, I reckon," and then the other would answer,
"Well, I don't know as I feel so sure of that, captain," and having
Recognized each other so by that courtesy title of captain
Never officially failed of without offense among pilots,
One would subside into Jim and into Jerry the other.

It was on these terms, at least, Captain Dunn relieved Captain Davis
When we had settled ourselves one day to listen in comfort,
After some psychological subtleties we had indulged in at breakfast
Touching that weird experience every one knows when the senses
Juggle the points of the compass out of true orientation,
Changing the North to the South, and the East to the West. "Why, Jerry,
what was it
You was going to tell them?" "Oh, never _you_ mind what it _was_, Jim.
_You_ tell them something else," and so Captain Davis submitted,
While Captain Dunn, with a laugh, got away beyond reach of his protest.
Then Captain Davis, with fitting, deprecatory preamble,
Launched himself on a story that promised to be all a story
Could be expected to be, when one of those women--you know them--
Who interrupt on any occasion or none, interrupted,
Pointed her hand, and asked, "Oh, what is that island there, captain?"
"That one, ma'am?" He gave her the name, and then the woman persisted,
"Don't say you know them all by sight!" "Yes, by sight or by feeling."
"What do you mean by feeling?" "Why, just that by daylight we see them,
And in the dark it's like as if somehow we felt them, I reckon.
Every foot of the channel and change in it, wash-out and cave-in,
Every bend and turn of it, every sand-bar and landmark,
Every island, of course, we have got to see them, or feel them."
"But if you don't?" "But we've got to." "But aren't you ever mistaken?"
"Never the second time." "Now, what do you mean, Captain Davis?
Never the second time." "Well, let me tell you a story.
It's not the one I begun, but that island you asked about yonder
Puts me in mind of it, happens to be the place where it happened,
Three years ago. I suppose no man ever knew the Ohio
Better than Captain Dunlevy, if any one else knew it like him.
Man and boy he had been pretty much his whole life on the river:
Cabin-boy first on a keelboat before the day of the steamboats,
Back in the pioneer times; and watchman then on a steamboat;
Then second mate, a