“Well, do you take less, then all will be right.”
“And why should I take less, pray?”
“Because you’re only half a man; you haven’t any legs to provide for, as I have.”
“Now, I tell you, Tom, that’s the very reason why I should have more to comfort my old body for the loss of them.”
“When you lost your legs you lost your ballast, father, and, therefore, you mustn’t carry too much sail, or you’ll topple overboard some dark night. If I drink the grog, it’s all for your good, you see.”
“You’re a dutiful son in that way, at all events; and a sweet child, as far as sugar goes; but Jacob is to sleep in the cabin with me, and you’ll shake your blanket forward.”
“Now that I consider quite unnatural; why part father and son?”
“It’s not that exactly, it’s only parting son and the grog bottle.”
“That’s just as cruel; why part two such good friends?”
“’Cause, Tom, he’s too strong for you, and floors you sometimes.”