Down come a gust of wind. "Have done!" says one of the lads. "Here's the gale come down with the dark. Us'll all be cast away."
"Rodney's mine, isn't she?" says Tom.
Well, she was. Nobody could say nothing to that. And nobody did.
"That's three thousand dollars, Peter," says Tom. "Three—thousand—dollars!"
"Ay," says Peter, "she calculates that way. But you've forgot t' deduct your livin' from the total. Not that I minds," says he. "'Tis just a business detail."
"Damme," says Tom. "I'll not be harsh!"
"Another thing, Tom," says Peter. "You're askin' me t' pay for twenty years o' life when I can use but a few. God knows how many!"
"I got you where I wants you," says Tom, "but I isn't got the heart t' grind you. Will you pay two thousand dollars for my seat in the boat?"
"If you is fool enough t' take it, Tom."
"There's something t' boot," says Tom. "I wants t' die out o' debt."