craft. For the same reason, also, the doctor
fibbed about his birthplace.

Unfortunately, one part of our raiment--Arfretee's blue frocks--we
deemed a sort of collateral evidence against us. For, curiously
enough, an American sailor is generally distinguished by his red
frock; and an English tar by his blue one: thus reversing the
national colours. The circumstance was pointed out by the captain; and
we quickly explained the anomaly. But, in vain: he seemed
inveterately prejudiced against us; and, in particular, eyed the
doctor most distrustfully.

By way of propping the tatter's pretensions, I was throwing out a hint
concerning Kentucky, as a land of tall men, when our Vine-yarder
turned away abruptly, and desired to hear nothing more. It was
evident that he took Long Ghost for an exceedingly problematical
character.

Perceiving this, I resolved to see what a private interview would do.
So, one afternoon, I found the captain smoking a pipe in the dwelling
of a portly old native--one Mai-Mai--who, for a reasonable
compensation, did the honours of Partoowye to illustrious strangers.

His guest had just risen from a sumptuous meal of baked pig and taro
pudding; and the remnants of the repast were still visible. Two
reeking bottles, also, with their necks wrenched off, lay upon the
mat. All this was encouraging; for, after a good dinner, one feels
affluent and amiable, and peculiarly open to conviction. So, at all
events, I found the noble Vineyarder.

I began by saying that I called for the purpose of setting him right
touching certain opinions of his concerning the place of my
nativity:--I was an American--thank heaven!--and wanted to convince
him of the fact.

After looking me in the eye for some time, and, by so doing, revealing
an obvious unsteadiness in his own visual organs, he begged me to
reach forth my arm. I did so; wondering what upon earth that useful
member had to do with the matter in hand.

He placed his fingers upon my wrist; and holding them there for a
moment, sprang to his feet, and, with much enthusiasm, pronounced me
a Yankee, every beat of my pulse!

"Here, Mai-Mai!" he cried, "another bottle!" And, when it came, with
one stroke of a knife, he summarily beheaded it, and commanded me to
drain it to the bottom. He then told me that if I would come on board
his vessel the following morning, I would find the ship's articles on
the cabin transom.

This was getting along famously. But what was