“Ye hev got thet durned lubber Jim Chowder to thank fur thet,” said Hiram, interrupting him to explain this fortunate circumstance, which I now recollected Captain Snaggs alluding to when I was waiting at table in the cabin the same evening, before the tragic occurrence happened. “It’s the fust time I ever recomembers ez how an unsailorlike act like thet ever did good to airy a soul!”
“Nebbah yer min’ dat, Mas’ Hiram,” rejoined Sam, with much heartiness. “I’se allers tink afore dat Jim Chowder one pore cuss, but now I’se pray fo’ him ebbery day ob my life!”
“Ay, bo,” said Tom, with affected gravity; “and for me to, eh?”
“I will, suah,” answered Sam, in the same serious way in which he had previously spoken, not wishing to joke about the matter. “But, Jim Chowder or no Jim Chowder, who ebbah let dat rope tow oberboard was sabe my life! I’se catch holt ob him an’ climb on ter de rudder chain, where I’se hang wid my head out ob de water till it was come dark, an’ de night grow ober de sea. Den, when I’se tink de cap’en drink nuff rum to get drunk, an’ not fo’ see me come on board agen, I’se let my ole leg wash up wid de wave to de sill ob de stern port; an’ den, when I’se look an see dere was nobody in de cabin, I’se smash de glass ob de window an’ climb inside.”
“And then it was, I suppose,” said I, taking up the burden of his story, “that I took your real self, as you crept through the cabin, for your ghost?”
“Dat troo, Cholly. Yer see me, dough, by de light ob de moon, fo’ I’se take care blow out de swing lamp in cabin, dat nobody might see nuffin. I’se reel glad, dough, dat I’se able friten de cap’en an’ make him tink see um duppy!”
“Wa-all, I guess ye come out o’ that smart enuff,” said Hiram, with a hearty thump of approval that doubled up poor Sam, more effectually than his convulsions of laughter had previously done. “But, whaar did ye manage ter stow yerself when ye comed out o’ the cabin?”
“I’se creep along de deck, keepin’ under de lee ob de moonlight; an’ den when nobody was lookin’ I’se go forwards an’ crawl down into the forepeak. Den, it was dat Mass’ Tom hyar see me.”
“And a pretty fine fright you gave me too!” said that worthy, bursting out into another laugh at the recollection. “It was the next mornin’, as I went down into the sail room under the forepeak, to fetch up a spare tops’le, when I comes across my joker here. I caught hold at first of his frizzy head, thinking it were a mop one of the hands had forgotten below; but when I turned my lantern there I seed Sam, who I thought miles astern, safe and snug in old Davy Jones’ locker. Lord! shipmates, you could ha’ knocked me down with a feather and club-hauled me for a nincompoop!”
“Wer ye ez frit ez I wer jest now?” asked Hiram quizzingly. “Mind, quite ez much ez I wer?”