Oh, Dad!" This shouted towards the hatch, where Disko and Tom Platt were salting.

"How many skates you reckon we'll need ?" "'Baout three.

Hurry!" "There's three hundred fathom to each tub," Dan explained; "more'n enough to lay out to-night.

Ouch! 'Slipped up there, I did." He stuck his finger in his mouth.

"I tell you, Harve, there ain't money in Gloucester 'u'd hire me to ship on a reg'lar trawler.