Forward lay the windlass and its tackle, with the chain and hemp cables, all very unpleasant to trip over; the fo'c'sle stovepipe, and the gurry-butts by the fo'c'sle-hatch to hold the fish-livers.

Aft of these the fore-boom and booby of the main-hatch took all the space that was not needed for the pumps and dressing-pens.

Then came the nests of dories lashed to ring-bolts by the quarter-deck; the house, with tubs and oddments lashed all around it; and, last, the sixty-foot main-boom in its crutch, splitting things lengthwise, to duck and dodge under every time.
Tom Platt, of course, could not keep his oar out of the business, but ranged alongside with enormous and unnecessary descriptions of sails and spars on the old Ohio.
"Niver mind fwhat he says; attind to me, Innocince.

Tom Platt, this bally-hoo's not the Ohio, an' you're mixing the bhoy bad." "He'll be ruined for life, beginnin' on a fore-an'-after this way," Tom Platt pleaded.

"Give him a chance to know a few leadin' principles.
Sailin's an art, Harvey, as I'd show you if I had ye in the foretop o' the--" "I know ut.