Capt. You?—a howid fisherman!
Ray. You are mistaken. This young man is my son. It’s all out at last.
Capt. Well, it’s doosed plain that I’m out too: so I’ll get up anchor, and off for the city again in my wacht.
Grap. Ze Capitan seems what zay call ver much over ze come.
John Gale. Old lady, it strikes me, if we are to have any dinner to-day—
Mrs. Gale. Land sakes! I forgot all about it. You, March, run—Oh, dear! what shall I do without March?
John Gale. Never mind March: we’ve got Sept. left.
Kate. But suppose I take him away?
John Gale. O Lord! what shall we do without Sept.?
Sept. You shan’t do without him. We began life here in the old shanty; and, whatever fortune may have in store for him, this is his home.