"Darn me, if I don't ketch up with him!" sez I, and out I went, right ahead down stairs, with out another word.
"Look a here," sez I to the boy that held the mare, "when the President comes in, you jest lead my horse down to the landing, and I'll give you a four-pence-ha'penny, clear silver."
"I'll du it," sez the little chap.
"You'll be a man before your marm," sez I, a turning the corner, to go the shortest cut to Peck Slip.
Captin Doolittle, was jest a hauling in, but I gin the old bell crown a swing, and sez I, "Hold on, you consarned old coot, hold on, and hist sail arter the President."
With that I jumped aboard a boat, and afore I reached the sloop she had worked about and was ready for a chase. The wind was coming right up the East River—and the minit I jumped aboard, Captin Doolittle, he and the black boy gin a hurra, and the way we cut water was a caution to small craft. We ploughed right ahead, full chisel, down the harbor, till by-am-by we saw two steamboats a coming towards us, brim full, and a running over with people—with banners a flying, and colors a streaming—toot horns a blowing, and fifes a letting off Yankee Doodle—drums a rattling out "Hail Columbia," and the big paddles a playing the water up, till it seemed tu kinder ketch fire in the hot sun, and drop into the waves to get cool agin.
"Captin," sez I, "hist another flag."
The captin, he put his chaw of terbacco into t'other cheek, and sez he, "I haint got none."
"I guess I have," sez the leetle nigger, a running down into the cabin.
In a minit he cum back with one of the captin's red woollen shirts fastened to the eend of a bean pole, and he stuck it up on the stern of the sloop, jest as we cum bearing right down on the two steamboats.