"Where for?" inquired a man, starting up from a small penthouse formed
of rough pieces of board.
"Schooner in the tier, Smiling Jane," said the captain gruffly, as he
stumbled clumsily into a boat and sat down in the stern. "Why don't you
have better seats in this 'ere boat?"
"They're there, if you'll look for them," said the waterman; "and you'll
find 'em easier sitting than that bucket."
"Why don't you put 'em where a man can see 'em?" inquired the captain,
raising his voice a little.
The other opened his mouth to reply, but realising that it would lead to
a long and utterly futile argument, contented himself with asking his
fare to trim the boat better; and, pushing off from the steps, pulled
strongly through the dark lumpy water. The tide was strong, so that they
made but slow progress.
"When I was a young man," said the fare with severity, "I'd ha' pulled
this boat across and back afore now."
"When you was a young man," said the man at the oars, who had a local
reputation as a wit, "there wasn't no boats; they was all Noah's arks
then."
"Stow your gab," said the captain, after a pause of deep thought.
The other, whose besetting sin was certainly not loquacity, ejected a
thin stream of tobacco-juice over the side, spat on his hands, and
continued his laborious work until a crowd of dark shapes, surmounted by
a network of rigging, loomed up before them.
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