“Yas, indeed;” and she added, “Wha you cum fum; ’roun’ heah?”
“Bless meh soul an’ body an’ meh body an’ soul—ter think I cum fum dis place! Why, dar ain’ no salt watah heah! I cum fum de Eastern Sho’ ub Maryland, Talbot County. Uncle Stephen Viney say dat he heah John Poney say dat he heah Pawson Phil Demby say dat meh fambly bin libbin’ in Talbot County fum de times ub de Petracks. It’s de fines’ place on uth; don’ hab ter wuck much; da ain’ much lan’, mos’ ev’ything salt watah, ribbers, bays, creeks and cobes. Fuh instinct, I tecks meh boat”——
“Is you uh free pusson?”
“Me? Dey don’ ’low free niggahs down dar; dey all qual’ty slabes.”
“Well, you said you had uh boat.”
“Sut’ny I did. Ef’n uh serbent wants uh boat he jes’ say ter Mars Matthew, ‘I wants uh pine tree, meh Marster, futto meck uh boat,’ an’ rite ’way he say, ‘Teck yo’ choice in de fores’;’ an’ den ten er twelbe serbents almos’ meck dat boat in one night; dey call ’em dug-outs. Well, I kin teck meh boat an’ cross de watah fum Mars Matthew’s ter Mars Jimmy’s, erbout uh harf mile, in uh harf hour an’ mebby fish meh net on de way; ef’n I had ter go by lan’, it wud be twelbe miles erroun’.”
“Is de fishin’ good down da? Any mullets?”
Meh name is Ezra, but dey call me Ezzy.
“Mullets! We gib dem ter de hogs. We eats what dey call spot, hog-fish, yaller-neds, catfish, pearch, sheepshead, crokusses, bay mackrel—dat lars fish de bes’ ub all; don’ hab ter mobe yo’ lips an’ tongue ’tall; hit jes’ melt in yo’ mouf—an’ crabs an’ oysters dey almos’ beg you ter eat ’em. Coons in de swamps, an’ ’possums in mos’ ev’y ’simmon tree. Serbents don’ hab much ter do; I dress up dis way mos’ all de time.”