"Have you spoke any American vessels on the coast?"
"Yes; two."
"What were they?"
"West Indiamen from Antigua, bound into New London."
"How long have you been ashore?"
"Since eight o'clock this morning—jest long enough to moisten the clay a little."
Here the conversation was interrupted by the truckman attempting to lead off the horse, having received his pay in advance; but this Dick's shipmates would by no means permit. One shook his fist in the truckman's face, threatening to drive his teeth down his throat; another seized the horse by the bridle, while two others caught hold of his long tail.
"Catch a turn, Bill, round that timber-head."
Bill caught a turn with the tail round a barber's pole that was set in the ground before the door of a grog-shop, the barber occupying rooms overhead. But the horse, not accustomed to being thus dealt with, began to kick and jump, amid the cheers and laughter of the crowd, till he pulled the pole over amongst them.
In order to restore good feeling, Dick now proposed to the truckman to take some bitters.