Then Bob he findeth fault--Lor' how beautiful he done it!--with the scantling of the stuff; and he shouteth out, 'Mother, I'm blest if I won't stand that old guinea bottle of best Jamaica, the one as you put by, with the cobwebs on it, for Lord Admiral.

No Lord Admiral won't come now.

Just you send away, and hoist it up.' "Rickon Goold pricked up his ugly ears at this; and Mother Tapsy did it bootiful.

And to cut a long yarn short, we spliced him, captain, with never a thought of what would come of it; only to have our revenge, your honor.

He showed himself that greedy of our patent rum, that he never let the bottle out of his own elbow, and the more he stowed away, the more his derrick chains was creaking; but if anybody reasoned, there he stood upon his rights, and defied every way of seeing different, until we was compelled to take and spread him down, in the little room with sea-weeds over it.
"With all this, Bob and me was as sober as two judges, though your honor would hardly believe it, perhaps; but we left him in the dark, to come round upon the weeds, as a galley-raker ought to do.