ler in this here heavy slob,' says
Cap'n Sammy, 'you'll lose it. An' now,' says he, 'havin' warned you
fair, my conscience is at ease.'

"'Off my ship, sir!' says Cap'n Wrath.

"''Twill cost you jus' a dollar a minute, Cap'n Wrath,' says Cap'n
Sammy, 'for delay.'

"Cap'n Wrath swung round, with that, an' fair spat rage an' misery in
Cap'n Sammy's face.

"'I'll work the _Bloodhound_ near,' says Cap'n Sammy, 'an' stand by
t' take a line. This gale will break afore noon. But give her some
leeway, t' make sure. Ay; the ice will feel the wind afore dark. The
ice will talk: it won't need no word o' mine. You'll want that line
aboard my ship, Cap'n Wrath, when the ice begins t' press. An' I'll
stand by, like a Christian skipper, at a dollar a minute for
delay'--he hauled out his timepiece--'t' save your ribs from crackin'
when they hurts you. Yelp for help when you wants to. Good-day, sir.'
He went overside. 'Item, Cap'n Wrath,' says Skipper Sammy, squintin'
up: 'to one dollar a minute for awaitin' skipper's convenience.'

"We got under way over the ice, then, for the _Royal Bloodhound_.
'Skipper Sammy,' says I, by an' by, 'was you reasonable with un?'

"'When I gets what I'm bound t' have, Tumm,' says he, 'they won't be
much juice left in that lemon.'

"'You been lappin' rum, Skipper Sammy,' says I, 'an' you mark me, your
judgment is at fault.'

"A squall o' wind near foundered the ol' feller; but he took a reef in
his coon-skin coat an' weathered it. 'I'm jus' standin' by the
teachin' o' my youth,' says he; 'an' they isn't no meanness in my
heart. Give me your hand, Tumm, an' we'll do better in these rough
places. How she blows! An' they's a chill comin' down with the wind.
My bones is old, Tumm; they hurts me, an' it seems t' me I hears un
creak. Somehow or other,' says he, 'I'm all tired out.'

"When we got aboard the _Royal Bloodhound_, Cap'n Sammy bucked the
ship within thirty fathoms of the tramp an' lay to. 'Nothin' t' do
now, Tumm,' says he, 'but take it easy. All my swilin' life,' says he,
'I been wantin' t' cotch a tramp Britisher in a mess like this; an'
now that I is cotched one, on my last cruise, I 'low I might as well
enjoy myself. I'm all in a shiver, an' I'm goin' t' have a glass o'
rum.' An' off he went to his cabin; an' there, ecod! he kep' his ol'
bones till long after noon, while the gale made up its mind t' come
down an' work its will. Some time afore dark, I found un there still,
with a bott