"I should like to pleasure you, Captain," said one of the citizens, "and will drink in all reason till sundown, but there is a law against drinking healths."
"I suppose there will be a law next," exclaimed the Captain, "against eating, and that will finish the job. The rest of you may do as you like, but Jack Sparhawk never yet was afraid of any man, and is not going now to strike his peak to Admiral Winthrop. So here's a toast for ye:
"Prosperity to England's friends!
Perdition to her foes!
Heaven to herself! to hell she sends
All Spaniards and Crapeaua!"
Saying this, he drained his cup. "And now, boys, about this little starched old maid of a town—"
"There you are, in a fog, Captain," interrupted Pantry. "How can it be an old maid, when, on every tack, half a dozen children, like so many porpoises, come across your bows?"
"Any wit but thine own would easily box that compass," answered the Captain. "But talking is thirsty business, and we will have up another bottle. Halloa, old Nettletop, bear a hand with some more of your weak-waters. What do you stand gaping there for, like a chicken with the pip? Off with you. And now, while old Thistle is rummaging the locker, I will give you my mind about this matter of—"
But, alas! an incident now occurred which has deprived posterity forever of the invaluable opinion of Captain Sparhawk respecting the appearance of Boston in 16—, and of his explanation of the phenomenon suggested by Bill.