Well, as I was a-sayin', on a sudden, lo and be'old! the breeze drops dead.

Ef you'll believe me, sir, 'twas calm as the Sar'gossa Sea.

So there we was stuck--the sail not so much as flappin'-- for the best part o' two hour; at the end o' which time (Joe not bein' a convussational man beyond sayin' 'thankye' when he got hes vittles) I was gettin' a bit dumb-foundered for topicks to talk 'pon.

'Cos, as for the weather, there 'twas, an', as Joe remarked, 'twasn' going to move any more for our discussin' of et, nor yet cussin' for that matter." "I see." "Well, sir, we was driven at last to singin' a hymn to keep our speerits up.

Leastways, the boy an' me sang, an' Joe beat time.
Then says Joe, 'Look 'ere, I'm a-goin' to allee-couchee ef et lasts like this.' 'Well,' I says, for I was gettin' desprit, 'have 'ee ever tried to make poetry ?' 'No,' says he, 'can't say I have.' 'Well,' I says, 'I've oft'n wanted to.