"Wal, Jim, yer three months is up, and I s'pose you're thinkin' about goin'. Me and the captains feel to say to you that you've done well, real well. Of course you started in mean, and stealin' aint right, however you look at it. But you've worked stiddy, and you've worked good; and I reckon you'd have to hunt round consid'able before you found anybody in town who wa'n't real sorry to have ye go. If you felt to stay, I don't doubt but you could get all the work you wanted, odd-jobbin' round. The seleckmen 'd oughter pay ye somethin' for repairin' the jail, but thar!—that's between you and them. Wal! the steamer comes to-morrer, and I s'pose you'll be movin'. What we want to say is, that we're right sorry to have ye go, Jim Popples. You're a handy fellow, and I don't doubt you're a good seaman; and if me or the other captains can speak a good word for ye, or help ye any way with a start, why, we're ready to do it. That's so, aint it?"
There was a growl of assent, in the midst of which—
"Thar she blows!" sung out Captain Abram Bannister.
"Where away?" cried Captain Bije Tarbox.
"Weather bow!" responded Captain Abram, and slept peacefully.
Jim looked slowly round the circle; his smile grew wider and brighter, till each man felt warm, and thought the weather was moderating; then he saluted in seaman fashion.
"I not go!" said the child of Hellas. "I stay. I get married to-morrow—to Mees Palmyre!"
THE TROUBLING OF BETHESDA POOL