"Yes, honourable captain; t'ree gre't big ship. I hear 'baa! baa!' I wake suddainlee, and zey are eat my foot."
"Sheep, he means!" the jailer explained. "The' warnt but two, I guess. Fact, they got a way o' wand'rin' int' the jail, but they wouldn't ha' hurt him any. He's dretful skeered for one that's knocked about pooty nigh the world over, from what he says."
"But!" the prisoner maintained, turning a candid face upon the court; "is it a jail—for ship to walk in and eat—what you say neeble—ze foots of prisoners?"
"No! no! 'taint!" "That's so!" "He's right, gentlemen!" came from the assembled captains.
"Zen," Jim continued, "ze mess! Salted backbone of hog—must I eat always zis? Never for t'ree mont's ozer sing? Honourable captains, I die."
"Wal!" said Sefami Bunt, with a hint of bluster in his voice, "I guess if backbone's good enough for me, it's good enough for him! 'Twas a good hawg! and, anyway, I've got to use it!"
"Sold the rest and salted down the backbone for yourself and prisoner?" queried Captain Asy Bean.
The jailer nodded, and repeated in an injured tone:
"'Twas a good hawg! Anybody could ha' seen him fattenin' any time they mind to pass by."