She looks too fair to last," he concluded, with a glance upward at the sky.
He was a Liverpool man, master and owner of his own rakish-looking little black-hulled craft, that, rumor was wont to say, was not averse to a bit of slaving, if she found herself in far seas, with a likely run before her.
"You're a swell, that's what you are," emphasized the skipper.

"You bean't no sort of use to me." "Wait a second," answered Cecil.

"Did you ever chance to hear of a schooner called 'Regina' ?" The skipper's face lighted in a moment.
"Her as was in the Biscay, July come two years?
Her as drove through the storm like a mad thing, and flew like a swallow, when everything was splitting and foundering, and shipping seas around her?
Her as was the first to bear down to the great 'Wrestler,' a-lying there hull over in water, and took aboard all as ever she could hold o' the passengers; a-pitching out her own beautiful cabin fittings to have as much room for the poor wretches as ever she could?
Be you a-meaning her ?" Cecil nodded assent.
"She was my yacht, that's all; and I was without a captain through that storm.

Will you think me a good enough sailor now ?" The skipper wrung his hand till he nearly wrung it off.
"Good enough! Blast my timbers! There aren't one will beat you in any waters.

Come on, sir, if so be as you wishes it; but never a stroke of work shall you do atween my decks.