An’ who shou’d come up while I was tawkin’ to the captain but the chap I was to shwim with, and heard all I sed. He was so tall that he could eat bread an’ butther over my head—with a face as yallow as a kite’s foot.
“Tip us the mitten,” siz I, “mabouchal,” siz I; “Where are we going to shwim to? What id ye think if we swum to Keep Cleer or the Keep ov Good Hope?”
“I reckon neither,” siz he.
Off we set through the crowds ov ladies an’ gintlemen to the shwimmin’ place. And as I was goin’ I was thript up by a big loomp ov iron struck fast in the ground with a big ring to it.
“What d’ye call that?” siz I to the captain, who was at my elbow.
“Why, Darby,” siz he, “that’s half an anchor.”
“Have ye any use for it?” siz I.
“Not in the least,” siz he; “it’s only to fasten boats to.”
“Maybee you’d give it to a body,” siz I.
“An’ welkim, Darby,” siz he; “it’s yours.”