Skipper was truly a god, his god, with a god's power to save.
Soon he heard the rhythmic clack of the oars on the thole-pins, and the joy in his own yelp was duplicated by the joy in Skipper's voice, which kept up a running encouragement, broken by objurgations to the rowers.
"All right, Jerry, old man.

All right, Jerry.

All right .-- Washee-washee, you fella boy!--Coming, Jerry, coming.

Stick it out, old man.

Stay with it .-- Washee-washee like hell!--Here we are, Jerry.