CHAPTER VI.
_The Incident of the Captain._ As we hoisted the sails and the sun came up in all his glory, the smell of Tom's coffee seemed to my prosaic mind the best of all in that beautiful world.

I said: "Let's give 'em a song, boys,--to cheer 'em up.
How about 'Delia gone!' ?" At this suggestion even the imperturbability of the captain broke into a smile.

He was a man hard to move, but this suggestion seemed to tickle him.
_Some gave a nickel, some gave a dime; I never gave no red cent-- She was no girl of mine.
Delia gone! Delia gone!_ seemed to throw him into convulsions, and I took the helm awhile to give him a chance to recover.

The exquisiteness of its appeal to the scoundrels, so securely trussed there on the island we were swiftly leaving behind, seemed to get him to such a degree that I was almost afraid that he might die of laughing, as has been heard of.

He laughed as only a negro can laugh, and he kept it going so infectiously that Tom and I got started, just watching him.