“Cheer up and get to work, Jupe, and stop enriching the English language,” urged Mr. Chadwick.
“Yep, ef he don’t stow that guff I’ll treat him as we did landlubbers on the old Ohio,” growled Silas, with a meaning look at the shaking Jupe.
“Ah don’t want nuffin’ lak dat; ’deed I don’t, Marse Siltack,” he wailed; “wha’ you want me to do, sah?”
“I’ll show you, you fountain-pen-colored moke, jes as soon as I get my sailing orders,” roared Silas.
“That won’t be long,” declared Jack. “Fire away, Tom.”
“I want some ammunition for the submarine gun and then I want you to help me handle it,” said Tom.
“Bully for you, my hearty!” cried Silas. “I used to was first mate back on the old Ohio—first gunner’s mate, I mean. Ever hear the song:
“’There was Bill Smith and me!
In our country’s navee;
We served ’em on the sea;