Wot _I_ say is--that we can, an', moreover, that morals has
nothin' to do with it wotsomediver. Now, wot then?"

Tim Rokens paused and looked at Gurney, to whom his remarks were
addressed, as if he expected an answer. That rotund little seaman did
not, however, appear to be thoroughly prepared to reply to "wot then,"
for he remained silent, but looked at his comrade as though to say,
"I'll be happy to learn wisdom from your sagacious lips."

"Wot then?" repeated Tim Rokens, assaulting his knee with his clenched
fist in a peculiarly emphatic manner; "I'll tell ye wot then, as you may
be right and I may be right, an' nother on us can be both right or
wrong, I say as how that we don't know nothin' about it."

Gurney looked as if he did not quite approve of so summary a method of
solving such a knotty question, but observing from the expression of
Rokens' countenance that, though he had paused, that philosopher had not
yet concluded, he remained silent.

"An', furthermore," continued Tim, "it's my opinion--seein' that we're
both on us in such a state o' cumblebofubulation, an' don't know
nothin'--we'd better go an' ax the cap'en, who does."

"_You_ may save yourselves the trouble," observed Glynn Proctor, who at
that moment came up and sat down on the rocks beside them, with a piece
of the salt junk that formed an element in the question at issue, in his
hand--

"I've just heard the captain give his opinion on that subject, and he
says that the boat can be got ready in a week or less, and that, with
strict economy, the provisions we have will last us long enough to
enable us to make the Cape, supposing we have good weather and fair
winds. That's _his_ opinion."

"I told ye so," said Tim Rokens.

"You did nothin' o' the sort," retorted Gurney.

"Well, if ye come fur to be oncommon strick in the use o' your lingo, I
did _not_ 'xactly tell ye so, but I _thought_ so, w'ich is all the
same."

"It ain't all the same," replied Gurney, whose temper seemed to have
been a little soured by the prospects before him, "and you don't need to
go for to be talkin' there like a great Solon as you are."

"Wot's a Solon?" inquired Tim.

"Solon was a man as thought his-self a great feelosopher, but he worn't,
he wor an ass."

"If I'm like Solon," retorted Rokens, "you're like a Solon-goose, w'ich
is an animal as _don't_ think itself an ass, 'cause its too great a one
to know it."

Having thus floored his adversary, the phi