language.

Besides these three, there were the ship's company dispersed about
the vessel. This company were not very extensive, not numbering over
three, in addition to Zac. These three all differed in age, in race,
and in character. The aged colored man, who was at that moment
washing out some tins at the bows, came aboard as cook, with the
understanding that he was to be man of all work. He was a slave of
Zac's, but, like many domestic slaves in those days, he seemed to
regard himself as part of his master's family,--in fact, a sort of
respected relative. He rejoiced in the name of Jericho, which was
often shortened to Jerry, though the aged African considered the
shorter name as a species of familiarity which was only to be
tolerated on the part of his master. The second of the ship's company
was a short, athletic, rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, round-faced lad,
who was always singing and dancing except when he was whistling. His
name was Terry, and his country Ireland. In addition to Jerry and
Terry, there was a third. He was a short, dull, and somewhat doleful
looking boy of about twelve, who had a crushed expression, and seemed
to take gloomy views of life. The only name by which he was known to
himself and others was Biler; but whether that was a Christian name,
or a surname, or a nickname, cannot be said. Biler's chief trouble in
life was an inordinate and insatiable appetite. Nothing came amiss,
and nothing was ever refused. Zac had picked the boy up three years
before, and since that time he had never known him to be satisfied.
At the present moment, Terry was standing at the tiller, while Biler
was at the masthead, to which he had climbed to get rid of the
disappointments of the world below, in a more elevated sphere, and
from his lofty perch he was gazing with a hungry eye forth into
space, and from time to time pulling bits of dried codfish from his
pocket, and thrusting them into his mouth.

"Hy da!" suddenly shouted the aged Jericho, looking up. "You da,
Biler? You jis come down heah an' help me fotch along dese yar tings.
Ef you ain't got notin' to do, Ise precious soon find you lots ob
tings. Hurry down, da; make haste; relse I'll pitch some hot water up
at you. I can't be boddered wid dese yer pots an' pans any longer,
cos Ise got de dinna to meditate 'bout."

With these words Jericho stood up, regarding Biler with an appearance
of grave dignity, which would have overawed even a less solemn lad
than th