He jes' drif's araound, in debt, trawlin' an' cussin' like you've heard.

Bin a Jonah fer years an' years, he hez.

'Gits liquor frum the Feecamp boats fer makin' spells an' selling winds an' such truck.

Crazy, I guess." "'Twon't be any use underrunnin' the trawl to-night," said Tom Platt, with quiet despair.

"He come alongside special to cuss us.