"I must crave permission to put in a word, since I have been professionally appealed to," said Sam Slick with becoming gravity, and smoothing down the nap of his sleeping-jacket. "With respect to the breeches,—wash-leather, after they have been worn for some time, will give and stretch, and——"
"Come, none o' your stretching, Sam," chimed in Jemmy Ducks. "What you've got to show is, whether you can stow a cable in a hen-coop."
"Not exactly," returned Sam; "for I'm sure Mister Sheavehole must allow that the capacity and capability of a pair of leather breeches——"
"I shan't never allow no such consarns as them 'ere!" exclaimed Jack. "Do, Bob, get on with your yarn, and clap a stopper on the lubber's jawing-gear."
"Well, since you've put me upon it by misdoubting my woracity," said Bob, "why, I'll up and tell you a thing or two. Which on you has ever been down to Baltimore?"
"I have," returned a forecastleman, impatient to wedge in a word or two. "I was there onest in a ship transport, and our jolly-boat broke adrift in the night, and went ashore without leave; and so, next morning, we sees her lying on the beach all alone, as if she'd been a liberty-boy hard up in the regard o' the whiskey. And so the second mate and a party goes to launch her: but some wild Ingines, only they warn't quite black, came down, and wouldn't let us lay a finger on her till we'd paid summut for hauling her up, which was all nat'ral in course; but the second mate hadn't never got not a single copper whatsomever about him, and so he orders us to launch her whether or no, Tom Collins; and, my eyes! but they did kick up a shindy, jabbering in a lingo like double Dutch coiled again the sun; and says one on 'em, seeing as we were man-handling the boat, says he, 'Arrah, Tim, call to de boys to bring down de shticks—— '"
"You means Baltimore in Ireland," uttered Bob, with some degree of contempt, "and I means Baltimore in the United States o' Maryland, where the river runs along about three leagues out of Chesapeake Bay,—and a pretty place it is too of a Saturday night for a bit of a John Canooing, and a bite of pigtail, letting alone the grog and the gals——"
"Which you never did, Bob, I'll be sworn," said Jack laughing.
"Never did what, Jack?" asked the other, apparently surprised at the positive assertion.
"Why, let the grog and the gals alone, God A'mighty bless both on 'em!" replied the boatswain's mate; "but heave a-head, my hearty."