Boatman.
Its neap, ye see, she’s heavy lade, and couldn’t pass the bar.
Mrs. F.
The bar! what, roads with turnpikes too? I wonder where they are!
Boatman.
Ho! brig ahoy! hard up! hard up! that lubber cannot steer!
Mrs. F.
Yes, yes,—hard up upon a rock! I know some danger’s near!
Lord, there’s a wave! it’s coming in! and roaring like a bull!
Boatman.
Nothing, Ma’am, but a little slop! go large, Bill! keep her full!