Cap'n Jesse Conklin owned the boat. He had a mild blue eye, a splendid line of cuss words, a body as big as mine, and a pair of legs that just saved him from running aground. When I first saw him I thought he was standing in a hole. Howsomever, he got around mighty lively on his little stumps, and he could light his pipe when the Matilda, of Boston, was throwing handsprings. He always opened his eyes wide and said, "Ha!" like he was perfectly astonished when you spoke to him. Then, to square things, you was really perfectly astonished when he spoke to you.
Eli introduced me. "Ha!" says the captain. "So this is one of them ripperty-splintered and bejiggered young thingermergummeries that runs away from hum, heh?" I don't wish to be understood as giving the captain's exact words, although I ain't one of your durn prudes, neither.
Eli explained.
"Ha!" says the captain. "Is that so? Howjer come by them legs, young feller? You'll be riggin' a set of stays fur them when we hit the stream. I've seen shorter and thicker things than them growin' on trellises."
"Never you mind about his legs, you old bladder-head," says Eli, cousinly. "You're to take the boy as passenger."
"I am!" says Captain Jesse, jumping back, mad as a bumblebee. "I am; that's me! I don't own this boat nor nothin'! I've got to be told what I'm to do, I have!"
"Sure!" says Eli, undisturbed.
"Well, all right," says the captain, calm as anything. "What makes you so hasty, Eli? Does he pay his passage, or work it?"
"He gives you five dollars in hand, and works the rest of it," says Eli.
The cap'n gave a horrible grin, showing a set of teeth like a small horse.