“‘An’ why not, cook?’ says the skipper.
“‘It ain’t her name,’ says the cook.
“‘It ain’t?’ says the skipper. ‘But I been sailin’ the Labrador for twenty year,’ says he, ‘an’ I ’ain’t never heared her called nothin’ but Walrus––’
“‘Don’t you do it, skipper!’
“The devil got into the cook’s hands then. I seed 261 his fingers clawin’ the air in a hungry sort o’ way. An’ it looked t’ me like squally weather for the skipper.
“‘Don’t you do it no more, skipper,’ says the cook. ‘I isn’t got no wits,’ says he, an’ I’m feelin’ wonderful queer!’
“The skipper took a look ahead into the cook’s eyes. ‘Well, cook,’ says he, ‘I ’low,’ says he, ‘I won’t.’
“Liz laughed––an’ got close t’ the fool from Twist Tickle. An’ I seed her touch his coat-tail, like as if she loved it, but didn’t dast do no more.
“‘What you two goin’ t’ do?’ says the skipper.
“‘We ’lowed you’d marry us,’ says the cook, ‘’til we come across a parson.’