“‘We cleared the house of them, Sir, in no time.’
“‘That’s right. Now go below, my lads, and turn in and get a good sleep. I like to see my lambs enjoy themselves. It does my heart good.’
“And yet, Cutler, that man is said to be a father to his crew.”
“Slick,” said Cutler, “what a pity it is you wouldn’t always talk that way!” Now if there is any created thing that makes me mad, it is to have a feller look admiren at me, when I utter a piece of plain common sense like that, and turn up the whites of his eyes like a duck in thunder, as much as to say, what a pity it is you weren’t broughten up a preacher. It ryles me considerable, I tell you.
“Cutler,” said I, “did you ever see a colt in a pasture, how he would race and chase round the field, head, ears, and tail up, and stop short, snort as if he had seen the ghost of a bridle, and off again hot foot?”
“Yes,” said he, “I have, but you are not a colt, nor a boy either.”
“Well, did you ever see a horse when unharnessed from a little, light waggon, and turned out to grass, do nearly the same identical thing, and kick up his heels like mad, as much as to say, I am a free nigger now?”
“Well, I have,” said he.
“Stop,” said I, a touchin’ of him on his arm; “what in the world is that?” and I pointed over the taffrail to the weather-bow.
“Porpoises,” said he.