I sought my uncle.
“Sir,” says I, “where’s the writing?”
“’Tis in your father’s Bible,” he answered.
I got it from the Book and touched a flaring match to it. “’Tis the end of that, sir,” says I. “You an’ me, sir,” says I, “will be shipmates to the end of the voyage.”
He rose.
“You’re not able, sir,” says I.
“I is!” he declared.
’Twas with difficulty he got to his feet, but he managed it; and then he turned to me, though I could see him ill enough in the dark.
“Dannie, lad,” says he, “I ’low I’ve fetched ye up very well. Ye is,” says he, “a––”