“What for he go country when Petrel come?”
“Oh, he no sabey Petrel lib for come; but one, two hour he catch.”
“Yes, one, two hour, and all men make plenty bobbery.”
“Me sabey you no like bobbery plenty much. S’pose you make sure Frying Pan head-man one time, me make bobbery plenty quiet.”
“What, you. Bottle of Beer! they won’t listen to you.”
“Plenty true, sah, Bottle of Beer picaninny no sabey stop bobbery; but Frying Pan brother, Flying Jib, him lib and be head-man for true: he make palaver plenty strong—bobbery stop one time.”
“Very well; call Flying Jib. Where is he?”
“He lib for canoe,” answered Bottle of Beer; and jumping overboard, he swam to a canoe in which a tall Kruman was sitting, being paddled by two others.
As soon as Bottle of Beer told this man, who was Flying Jib, that he was wanted, he put his canoe alongside, and springing into the main chains, clambered over the nettings, and coming to where my father was standing, pulled off a very dilapidated tall hat, which was his only article of clothing besides a handkerchief round his waist, and said,—
“Marnin, capen; what you wish?”