Barnegat Macreary
"Put that fellow in the lee rigging and let him chuck the lead awhile," said Captain Sanders. "Sink me, but he is a queer one. Where did ye say he hailed from?"
"Hey, Peter, where did yo' hatch?" asked the big black mate in a voice deep and loud enough to be heard half a mile. The man he addressed was standing near the mast explaining to the wrecking crew gathered about him how he had once been quartermaster in a man-of-war. He looked aft at the hail.
"I'm from the Berhammers," said he.
"Born there?" asked the captain.
"No, I live on the Great Berhammer—I'm a sailor man, sir."
"Put him in the lee rigging an' let him sound across the Bank. If he knows half as much as he says he does, he'll see us across all right enough. It's getting mighty shoal now. Look at that nigger head pokin' up yander." And he pointed to a piece of coral that came within a few feet of the surface of the clear blue water. The bottom was plainly visible two fathoms below and the wrecking sloop, Sea-Horse, needed at least one to go clear with the rise and fall of the sea.
"Git to lor'ard there, quartermaster, an' heave the lead," bawled the mate, looking the man squarely in the eyes.