The two dories swung together and bunted into the schooner's side.
"Patience o' Jerusalem!" snapped Uncle Salters, backing water with a splash.

"What possest a farmer like you to set foot in a boat beats me.
You've nigh stove me all up." "I am sorry, Mr.Salters.I came to sea on account of nervous dyspepsia.

You advised me, I think." "You an' your nervis dyspepsy be drowned in the Whale-hole," roared Uncle Salters, a fat and tubby little man.

"You're comin' down on me agin.

Did ye say forty-two or forty-five ?" "I've forgotten, Mr.Salters.