“Keep a bright look-out, ahead. Let me know the instant you make anything in the neighbourhood of Montauk.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“As I was saying, Madam Budd, we seamen drop into our forefathers' ways. Now, when I was a youngster, I remember, one day, that we fell in with a ketch—you know, Miss Rose, what a ketch is, I suppose?”
“I have not the least notion of it, sir.”
“Rosy, you amaze me!” exclaimed the aunt—“and you a ship-master's niece, and a ship-master's daughter! A catch is a trick that sailors have, when they quiz landsmen.”
“Yes, Madam Budd, yes; we have them sort of catches, too; but I now mean the vessel with a peculiar rig, which we call a ketch, you know.”
“Is it the full-jigger, or the half-jigger sort, that you mean?”
Spike could hardly stand this, and he had to hail the topgallant-yard again, in order to keep the command of his muscles, for he saw by the pretty frown that was gathering on the brow of Rose, that she was regarding the matter a little seriously. Luckily, the answer of the man on the yard diverted the mind of the widow from the subject, and prevented the necessity of any reply.
“There's a light, of course, sir, on Montauk, is there not, Captain Spike?” demanded the seaman who was aloft.
“To be sure there is—every head-land, hereabouts, has its light; and some have two.”