"Oh, that's some of my mate's nonsense. He thought planters wouldn't want to buy a seaman, so he rigged the old captain up like a schoolmaster, and told him to say that he had always taught arithmetic. He'll tell you he's a schoolmaster, according to the mate's commands; but he isn't. He's been a ship's captain, I believe, and he helped me take observations on the voyage, and he seemed to know the river when he got in last night."
There ensued some talk as to how many hogsheads of tobacco the convict was worth, and then Browne went forward to inspect the man and question him.
"What's your name?" said the planter.
"James Palmer," said Cappy, with his head down.
"Lawr!" muttered Polly under her breath.
"What's your business?"
"Schoolmaster."
"Come, don't lie to me," said Browne. "You are a sailor, or a captain maybe."
This set the old fellow to trembling visibly, and Polly again said "Lawr!" loud enough for him to hear it and give her one fierce glance that quieted her.
"Who said I was a sailor, sir?"