“There, by godfreys!” he exclaimed. “I could see it comin'! That feller's for all the world like a cook I had once aboard the Ezry H. Jones. That cook was the biggest numskull that ever drawed the breath of life. Always forgettin' somethin', he was, and always at the most inconvenient time. Once, if you'll believe it, I had a skipper of another vessel come aboard and, wishin' to be sort of hospitable, as you might say, I offered him a glass of rum.”
“Joshua!”
“Oh, it's all right, Betsy. This was years ago. I'm as good a teetotaler now as you be, and I never was what you'd call a soak. But I've SEEN fellers—Why, I knew one once that used to go to bed in the dark. He was so full of alcohol he didn't dast to light a match fear he'd catch a-fire. Fact! He was eighty-odd then, and he lived to be nigh a hundred. Preserved, you understand, same as one of them specimens in a museum. He'd kept forever, I cal'late, if he hadn't fell off the dock. The water fixed him; he wasn't used to it. He was the wust—”
“Never mind him. Stick to the cook.”
“Yes, yes. Well, I sent that cook for the rum and when he fetched it, I thought it smelt funny. And when I TASTED it—godfreys! 'Twas bay rum; yes, sir, bay rum! same as they put on your hair. You see, he'd forgot to buy any rum when we was in our last port and, havin' the bay rum along he fetched that. 'Twas SOME kind of rum and that was enough for him. I WAS mad, but that visitin' skipper, he didn't care. Drank it down and smacked his lips. 'I'm a State of Maine man,' he says, 'and that's a prohibition state. This tastes like home,' he says. 'If you don't mind I'll help myself to another.' 'I don't mind,' says I, 'but I'm sorry I ain't got any hair-ile. If I had you might have a barber-shop toddy.' Yes, sir! Ho-ho! that's what I said. But he didn't mind. He was—”
And so on. The yarns were not elegant, but, as he told them, they were funny. Mabel Colton laughed as heartily as the rest of us. She appeared to be in fine spirits. She talked with the Atwoods, answered their questions, and ate the hot “spider bread” and butter as if she had never tasted anything as good. But with me she would not talk. Whenever I addressed a remark to her, she turned it with a laugh and her next speech was pretty certain to be addressed to the lightkeeper or his wife. As for our adventure in the launch, that she treated as a joke.
“Wan't you awful scared when that squall struck so sudden?” inquired Mrs. Atwood.
“Dreadfully.”
“Humph!” this from Joshua; “I cal'late Mr. Paine was some scart too. What did you do, Mr. Paine?”
“I rigged that canvas on the oar as soon as possible,” I answered.