"''Tis not that, Tumm,' says he. ''Tis—well—because—I've growed kind o' fond o' you overnight. We got a bit—intimate—together—an' you—was kind. Tis not my habit, lad, t' be fond o' nobody,' says he, in a flash, 'an' I'll not keep it up. I'm otherwise schooled. But, damme!' says he, 'a man's got t' go overboard once in a while, whatever comes t' pass.'
"'Then sure you'll take me!'
"'I wouldn't get my fish,' says he. 'I'd be scared o' losin' you. I'd sail the Word o' the Lord like a ninny. Thinks I—I got t' be careful! Thinks I—why, I can't have Tumm cast away, for what would his mother do? Thinks I—I'll reef, an' I'll harbor, an' I can't get along, an' I might hit ice, an' I might go ashore on Devil-May-Care. An' I wouldn't get my fish!'
"'Still an' all, I got t' go!'
"'You isn't driven,' says he.
"'Skipper Davy,' says I, fair desperate, 'I got a maid.'
"'A what?' says he.
"'A maid, Skipper Davy,' says I, 'an' I wants with all my heart t' prove my courage.'
"'What you goin' t' do with her?'
"'I'll wed her in due season.'