"'What's up?' says I.
"'Captain, does yer see this 'ere yaller post?" says he solemnly.
"'I does,' I replies.
"'Captain,' says he, 'this 'ere yaller post takes its root somewhere at the keel and grows up higher than the peak of the mainmast. An' what's more,' says he, 'it all growed up in one night.'
"'Ye'r' talkin' like a ravin', incomprehensible, idiotic fool,' says I.
"'It may seem so,' says the lieutenant, 'but come an' see for yourself.'
"This wasn't no more'n fair. So I gits into my duds, and goes on deck. Thar, sure as yer live, this 'ere yaller post run straight up between the mizzenmast and the tiller, reachin' about forty feet higher than the tallest mast on board. All the crew were standin' round, gaping, and nudging each other, and lookin' kinder skeered, when I begins to take observations from a philosophic point of view."
"From a what?" interrupted Tony Trybrace. "Takin' observations, from a phil—phil—philly—what?"
"Avast, you lubber, and let me spin my yarn! If yer ain't got no edication, is it my fault? If you was brought up outside o' college, am I to blame? Avast, I tell yer.
"Well, as I was a-sayin'. I begins to look at the thing kinder sharp. So I takes a cutlass down from the mast, and begins to cut little chips off the yaller mast. What do yer think came out o' that 'ere yaller mast?"