“The skipper didn’t answer that.
“‘Come, cook,’ says I, ‘leave us get under way,’ for I couldn’t stand it no longer.
“So the cook an’ me put out in the punt t’ land at Whoopin’ Harbor, with the crew wishin’ the poor cook well with their lips, but thinkin’, God knows what! in 254 their hearts. An’ he was in a wonderful state o’ fright. I never seed a man so took by scare afore. For, look you! poor Moses thinks she might have un. ‘I never had half a chance afore,’ says he. ‘They’ve all declined in a wonderful regular way. But now,’ says he, ‘I ’low I’ll be took. I jus’ feels that way; an’, Tumm, I––I––I’m scared!’ I cheered un up so well as I could; an’ by-an’-by we was on the path t’ Liz Jones’s house, up on Gray Hill, where she lived alone, her mother bein’ dead an’ her father shipped on a bark from St. John’s t’ the West Indies. An’ we found Liz sittin’ on a rock at the turn o’ the road, lookin’ down from the hill at the Quick as Wink; all alone––sittin’ there in the moonlight, all alone––thinkin’ o’ God knows what!
“‘Hello, Liz!’ says I.
“‘Hello, Tumm!’ says she. ‘What vethel’th that?’
“‘That’s the Quick as Wink, Liz,’ says I. ‘An’ here’s the cook o’ that there craft,’ says I, ‘come up the hill t’ speak t’ you.’
“‘That’s right,’ says the cook. ‘Tumm, you’re right.’
“‘T’ thpeak t’ me!’ says she.
“I wisht she hadn’t spoke quite that way. Lord! it wasn’t nice. It makes a man feel bad t’ see a woman put her hand on her heart for a little thing like that.
“‘Ay, Liz,’ says I, ‘t’ speak t’ you. An’ I’m thinkin’, Liz,’ says I, ‘he’ll say things no man ever said afore––t’ you.’