I should say though that you had best speak to her from your heart, in plain sailor language.' 'Aye, aye, she can take it or leave it.

Phoebe Dawson it is, the sister of the blacksmith.

Let us work back and have a drop of the right Nants before we go.

I have an anker newly come, which never paid the King a groat.' 'Nay, you had best leave it alone,' I answered.
'Say you so?
Well, mayhap you are right.

Throw off your moorings, then, and clap on sail, for we must go.' 'But I am not concerned,' said I.
'Not concerned! Not--' he was too much overcome to go on, and could but look at me with a face full of reproach.