"What can be the matter with Mr. Morton lately?" said the old seaman to his second officer; "he was never so fond of going ashore anywhere else, and now here he's off and into his boat, like a struck black-fish."
"Why, I some expect," said Coffin, "there's a petticoat in the wind."
"The devil! who?"
"Well, I rather guess it's that pretty blue-eyed, English-looking girl, that came on board with old Don Blow-me-down, when he first came in here."
"Ah! I recollect her. I thought Morton seemed to take a shine to her."
"They say she's Don Strombolo's niece."
"They may tell that to the marines; she don't look no more like the rest on 'em than the devil looks like a parson."
"I don't know" said Coffin gravely, "how the devil looks; but they say he can put on the appearance of an angel of light, and I don't see why 'taint jist as easy for him to put on a black coat, and come the parson over us poor sinners."
"Well, well; she's a sweet pretty girl, and looks kind o' as though she wasn't over and above in good spirits."
"Well, now; I some guess I know a little something about that."