"Sez he, 'An' what may ye be a-doin' wid th' old man's trunk,' sez he.
"'Sure 'tis me own I thought it ware, by th' weight av it,' sez I.
"'Is it so heavy, thin?' sez he.
"'Faith, ye thry an' lift it,' sez I.
"He come down th' ladder an' took a-hold, shutting th' door to keep th' steward from a-lookin' in. Thin he takes hold av th' thing an' lifts fer th' good av his soul. Nary a inch does it move.
"'I wud have opened it, but I heard th' captin's order not to disturb th' charts atop av it,' sez I.
"'Ye would, ye thafe,' sez he. 'An' if ye had, inter irons would ye go fer th' raskil ye are. I never thought ye ware so bad, Chips,' sez he.
"'Tis a victim av discipline I am, fer sure, thin,' sez I. 'Ye know I wud no more steal th' matther av a trunk than fly.'
"'An' who give ye th' order, ye disciplinarian?' sez he.
"'Me conscience,' sez I.