He would only admit one flaw in his idol.

"He ain't no seaman," he admitted.

"That's Mr.
Shuan that navigates the brig; he's the finest seaman in the trade, only for drink; and I tell you I believe it! Why, look'ere;" and turning down his stocking he showed me a great, raw, red wound that made my blood run cold.

"He done that--Mr.Shuan done it," he said, with an air of pride.
"What!" I cried, "do you take such savage usage at his hands?
Why, you are no slave, to be so handled!" "No," said the poor moon-calf, changing his tune at once, "and so he'll find.

See'ere;" and he showed me a great case-knife, which he told me was stolen.