That's all there is on't.

Now, how comes you uns hyer ?" "I'm the mate of the topsail schooner West Wind, and t'others is the crew; all but two we done left on board with the cap'n," replied Bird, apparently with abundant confidence in his newly found friends.
"You left her ?" asked Christy.
"That's just what we done do." "Where is the West Wind now ?" inquired Christy, deeply interested in the subject at this point.
"She done come down from Mobile three days ago, and done waited for a chance to run the blockade.

Her hole is full o' cotton, and she done got a deck-load too," answered Bird Riley without any hesitation.
"Where does the West Wind keep herself now, Bird ?" "Just inside the p'int, astern of the Trafladagar." "The Trafladagar ?" repeated Christy.
"That's her name, or sunthin like it.

I never see it writ out." "She's a schooner, I reckon," continued Christy, concealing what knowledge he possessed in regard to the vessel.
"She ain't no schooner, you bet; she's jest the finist steamer that ever runned inter Mobile, and they've turned her into a cruiser," Bird Riley explained.
"How big is she ?" "I heerd some un say she was about eight hun'ed tons: an' I'll bet she'll pick up every Yankee craft that she gits a sight on." "And you say the Trafladagar is at anchor off the p'int ?" added Christy, not daring to call the steamer by her true name.
"That's jest where she is; and the West Wind is hitched to her, like a tandem team," replied Bird Riley.

"Look yere, Tom Bulger, you don't make love to that bottle as though you meant business.