"'Lay aloft an' loose torps'ls,' sez he. 'Lively now, you sea-cooks!'
"May I never cross the blessed hequator ag'in ef the old woman didn't dance right up to Bill, an' fetch him a swat over the head with the umbreller.
"'I'll not stand it,' sez she to he, sez she. 'I'll not listen to no sich talk.'
"With that the Cap'n comes a-runnin' up to her, an' sez he, 'Mother, wot's wrong?'
"'Wot d'ye mean, Janders Blue,' sez she to he, sez she, 'by allowin' o' sich permiskis langwidge on your boat?'
"'W'y, mother,' sez he, 'that are reg'lar sea langwidge.'
"'Then it are got to be changed,' sez she to he, sez she, jes like that, him bein' Cap'n of the schooner, an' she bein' his mother with a white umbreller. She turned around to go aft ag'in, an' stopped like she were hit herself. 'Janders Blue,' sez she, 'look at this here rope!'
"'Wot's the matter with 't, mother?'
"'It are all covered with tar!'
"'That's allers the way with 'em on ships,' sez he.