Mrs. F.
What, keep her full! what daring work! when full, she must go down!
Boatman.
Why, Bill, it lulls! ease off a bit—it’s coming off the town!
Steady your helm! we’ll clear the Pint! lay right for yonder pink!
Mrs. F.
Be steady—well, I hope they can! but they’ve got a pint of drink!
Boatman.
Bill, give that sheet another haul—she’ll fetch it up this reach.
Mrs. F.
I’m getting rather pale, I know, and they see it by that speech!
I wonder what it is, now, but—I never felt so queer!