The “able seaman” did not feel very hungry, but he managed to swallow a hard-boiled egg and a sandwich, and then, just to show that he had reached the dignity of manhood, leaned back against the side of the cockpit, lit a cigarette, and observed cheerfully, “This is hot stuff, ain't it, Cap?”
Captain Eri wiped the crumbs from his mouth, leisurely produced his pipe, and proceeded to fill it with tobacco shaved from a chunky plug.
“What d'you smoke them things for?” he asked contemptuously, referring to the cigarette. “Nobody but dudes and sissies smoke that kind of truck. Here, take this pipe, and smoke like a man.”
Josiah looked askance at the proffered pipe.
“Oh, no!” he said magnanimously, “you'll want it yourself. I'll get along with these things till I git ashore; then I'll buy a pipe of my own.”
“Never you mind 'bout me. I've got two or three more below there, some'eres. Take it and light up.”
The “able seaman” took the reeking, nicotine soaked affair, placed it gingerly between his teeth, held a match to the bowl and coughingly emitted a cloud of ill-smelling smoke. The pipe wheezed and gurgled, and the Mary Ellen rocked and rolled.
“Now, then,” said Captain Eri, “we've sojered long enough. Go below, and bring up the bait bucket and the lines.”
Josiah staggered into the little cabin, reappeared with the heavy cod lines and the bucket of mussels, and watched while the Captain “baited up.”
“All ready!” said the skipper. “Two lines apiece, one over each side. Watch me.”