As they disengaged themselves from the tier, there was just sufficient
sail for them to advance against the tide; while in front of them the
Good Intent, shaking out sail after sail, stood boldly down the river.
* * * * *
"This was the way of it," said Sam, as he stood before the grim Tucker
at six o'clock the next morning, surrounded by his mates. "He came into
the 'Town o' Berwick,' where we was, as nice a spoken little chap as
ever you'd wish to see. He said he'd been a-looking at the GOOD INTENT,
and he thought it was the prettiest little craft 'e ever seed, and the
exact image of one his dear brother, which was a missionary, 'ad, and
he'd like to stand a drink to every man of her crew. Of course, we all
said we was the crew direckly, an' all I can remember after that is two
coppers an' a little boy trying to giv' me the frog's march, an'
somebody chucking pails o' water over me. It's crool 'ard losing a race,
what we didn't know nothink about, in this way; but it warn't our
fault?-it warn't, indeed. It's my belief that the little man was a
missionary of some sort hisself, and wanted to convert us, an' that was
his way of starting on the job. It's all very well for the mate to have
highstirriks; but it's quite true, every word of it, an' if you go an'
ask at the pub they'll tell you the same.
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