“Here’s my hand upon it, Tom, that the coast is clear as far as I’m concerned; but take care—she’s a clipper, and not unlikely to slip through your fingers, even when you have her under your lee, within hail.”
“Let me alone, Jacob, for that.”
“And more, Tom, when you’re in possession of her, she will require a good man at the helm.”
“Then she’s just the craft after my fancy. I hate your steady, slow-sailing craft, that will steer themselves, almost; give me one that requires to be managed by a man and a seaman.”
“If well manned, she will do anything, depend upon it, Tom, for she’s as sound below as possible; and although she is down to her bearings on the puff of the moment, yet she’d not careen further.”
“Well, then, Jacob, all’s right; and now you’ve told me what tack she’s on, see if I don’t shape a course to cut her off.”
“Well, Jacob, my good boy, so you’ve been under the water again; I thought you had enough of it when Fleming gave you such a twist; but, however, this time you went to sarve a friend, which was all right. My sarvice to you Mr Stapleton,” continued old Tom, as Stapleton made his appearance. “I was talking to Jacob about his last dive.”
“Nothing but human natur’,” replied Stapleton.
“Well, now,” replied old Tom, “I consider that going plump into the river, when covered with ice, to be quite contrary to human natur’.”
“But not to save a friend, father?”