"Is it so serious as all that? . . . What I came about now, was to ask you to make a brass plate for the lid—with an inscription." Captain Cai pulled out a scrap of paper. "Something like this, 'Presented to Caius Hocken, Master of the Hannah Hoo, on the Occasion of his Retirement. By his affectionate undersigned': then the names, with maybe a motto or a verse o' poetry if space permits."
"What sort of poetry?"
"Eh? . . . 'Tell ye the truth, I didn' know till this moment that there were different sorts. Well, we'll have the best."
"Why not go to Benny, and get him to fix you up something appropriate?" suggested John Peter. "Old Benny, I mean, that writes the letters for seamen. He's a dab at verses. People go to him regular for the In-Memoriams they put in the newspaper."
"That's an idea, too," said Captain Cai. "I'll consult him to-morrow.
But that won't hinder your getting ahead wi' the plate?" he added; for
John Peter's ways were notorious.
"How would you like it?" John Peter looked purblindly about him, rubbing his spectacles with a thread-bare coat-tail.
"Well, I don't mind," said Cai with promptitude—"Though 'tis rather early in the morning."
"Old English?"
"Perhaps I don't know it by that name."
"Or there's Plain."