He's a Galway man inhabitin' South Boston, where they all live mostly, an' mostly them Galway men are good in a boat.

North, away yonder--you'll hear him tune up in a minute is Tom Platt.

Man-o'-war's man he was on the old Ohio first of our navy, he says, to go araound the Horn.

He never talks of much else, 'cept when he sings, but he has fair fishin' luck.

There! What did I tell you ?" A melodious bellow stole across the water from the northern dory.
Harvey heard something about somebody's hands and feet being cold, and then: "Bring forth the chart, the doleful chart, See where them mountings meet! The clouds are thick around their heads, The mists around their feet." "Full boat," said Dan, with a chuckle.