“I tell you he must have pinched right hard. That sassy-lookin’ rat couldn’t stand the bite, an’ let go the leg grip he had, squealin’ an’ twistin’ to get away. But no sirree. Old Toby had him fer sure this time, an’ he jest settled right down to business, shakin’ an’ pullin’, fer there aint nothin’ a rat kin stand less than a good shakin’. Pretty soon the feller began to give up an’ try to get away, squealin’ a different sort o’ squeal from the sassy squeal he began with.
“Then Toby goes fer him harder than ever, but jest as he was tryin’ to get a new hold, the fellow up an’ bolts fer the open hatchway, an’ the fight was over. Then all hands scrambled below, an’ Toby walks right up to the fine female rat what was waitin’ fer him an’ they goes off together. Then the gal on the bridge laughs right out an’ says ‘Bully boy,’ an’ the second mate looks up an’ sees the look in her eyes, an’—well, I dunno, after that they used to come together somehow until the skipper speaks up one day an’ asks the second mate his business.
“‘Ye seem to have too much to do,’ says he one evenin’ to the second mate, ‘an’ if I was you I’d keep more by meself, or mebbe I’ll take ye in hand a bit.’
“That second mate was thinkin’ o’ them rats, an’ speaks up: ‘You kin try yer hand when we gets in port. I’m an officer here an’ can’t get no show, but on the beach I’ll take yer skin or I’m a soger,’ says he.
“An’ so the captain was too proud to take advantage o’ his position, an’ waits until the vessel was in at Port Antonio. Then he steps ashore an’ tells the second mate to follow him an’ take a lickin’.
“Well, sir, there aint no use tellin’ how that fight come off. It took three hours to put that dinky little skipper temporarily to sleep, an’ the fellers what seen the scrap tells a thing or two about it,—but they was only niggers an’ didn’t count. Anyways, the second mate was as well pounded as a beefsteak, but he was a hero, an’ that’s a fact. He was a pretty good sort o’ man, an’ some says he was fairly good-lookin’. Anyways, he was way ahead in looks o’ that dinky little skipper, an’ the gal, I believe, thought so too. Yessir, it ware the same ole story o’ choosin’ the hero over again, jest like it takes place in story books—only a bit different, fer the gal was already married in this case, an’ sech doin’s never is printed except in papers. But that second mate, he ware the hero jest the same.
“When the Spitfire went to sea again there was a mighty quiet sort o’ skipper aboard, an’ a second mate who was a-lookin’ out fer squalls. There was evidently goin’ to be a change aboard at the end of the passage. But all the time that gal she jest kept to herself, an’ by the look o’ her eyes she ware tellin’ the second mate plainer ’n mud that he ware the man fer her. The dinky little skipper could see it too.
“The night she went to sea the second mate was sittin’ on the edge o’ the hatchway here as usual when it come on eight bells, an’ he seen all that new load o’ rats a-gettin’ ashore fast. It aint no good sign to see rats gettin’ out o’ a ship. They generally leave afore she goes down, an’ when the second mate seen them a-goin’ ashore he was fer followin’ them. Then he thinks o’ that gal again an’ stays, fer you may not believe it, but ole Toby, there, an’ his mate wouldn’t go ashore. They stays on deck at the last minute when the second officer was gettin’ ready to clear an’ when he seen it he says he’d stay too. It sort o’ put him in mind o’ hisself.
“It began to come on to blow the day after we passed Cape Maysi. Ye know how it is in the windward passage, so it didn’t bother us much. But along about dark the glass began to drop sudden like, until it got down about three marks below where it ought to stayed. The air was warm an’ sultry comin’ hot from the s’uthard. The haze what comes with the hurricane was raisin’ plain in sight, an’ the dinky little skipper puts her head to the east’ard to clear the center, fer it ware jest in our wake.
“I seen it blow before, but sink me if ever it blew anywhere’s like that. The sea ware jest a roarin’ hill leapin’ up with a cross heave in it, an’ the air was like a solid wall when it struck. No, sir, ye couldn’t stand on the bridge. It would have picked ye up bodily an’ hove ye overboard. The roar ware deafenin’, an’ we hove her to on the starboard tack to work clear, an’ jest then, by some luck or other, she waded right into the center o’ that whirl where the seas ware jest standin’ right up on end.