"'We 'ain't got no show to git out o' this,' sez Hiram Sink, sez he.
"'Nary show. We got to go on them rocks sure,' sez I to he, sez I.
"A werry few minutes arter that a hand forrard yells, 'Steamer on the stabboard bow!'
"An', sure 'nuff, we could see the lights in her cabin. Nex' thing I knowed, there were a launch off our quarter, an' a voice hailed us,
"'Aboard the brig there!'
"'Hello!' sez I. 'Who on 'arth are you?'
"'I'm the owner o' that steam-yacht up there, an' I want to come aboard you,' sez he.
"'Come on, then,' sez I.
"So the launch come alongside, an' the man comes aboard. He sartinly were a pikooliar pusson. His face were so full o' wrinkles it looked like it were made o' rope, an' he had a stiff mustache as white as chalk. His eyes was little an' black an' piercin'. But he were dressed in the swellest kind o' yachtin' toggery ye ever seed, an' spite o' his lookin' a hundred years old, he skipped over the side like a midshipman. He come up to me with a jolly laugh, slapped me on the back, an' sez he to me, sez he,
"'How'd ye like the show?'