De gray owl sing fum de cypress tree:
‘Who-who-is-you-oo?’
En I say: ‘Good Lawd, ef you look you’ll see
Hit ain’t nobody but des po’ me,
En I like ter stay ’twell my time is free;
Oh, wait, good Lawd, ’twell termorrer!’”
“I take it all back, Charlie,” offered Mabel, “I liked that a lot.”
Fred said a regretful good-bye and, with a promise that he and Virg would weigh the anchor of the “Sabrina” the minute the “Boojum” signaled, he dropped over the side into his dory and rowed slowly over the moon-lit water to the silent Hurricane Island.