There's more in the boat, but I must ax'ee to bear a hand wi' thicky portmanty o' youm, 'cos 'tes mortal heavy.

I see'd Jan Higgs's wife a-fishin' about two hundred yards from the quay, on my way up, an' warned her to keep her distance.

There's a well o' water round at the back, an' I've fetched a small sack o' coal, and ef us don't have a dish o' tay ready in a brace o' shakes, then Tom's killed an' Mary's forlorn." With the statement of which gloomy alternative Mr.Caleb Trotter broke into a smile of honest pride.
"Caleb," said Mr.Fogo from his hammock in the back kitchen at about eleven o'clock on the same night.
"Aye, aye, sir." "Are you comfortable ?" "Thank'ee, sir, gettin' on nicely.

Just a bit Man-Fridayish to begin wi', but as corrat as Crocker's mare." "What did you say ?" "Figger o' speech agen, sir, that's all.

Good-night, sir." "Good-night, Caleb." Mr.Fogo settled himself in his hammock, sighed for a second time and dropped asleep..