Pluck reckoned how the Britisher had got his dander up, and about
cleverest thing would be to round to, seem' how the feller was wastin'
his shot, and sendin' things what might save a body the trouble of
puttin' on a night-cap about bedtime. 'Now,' said Pluck, 'the
Devastation feels kind a out o' sorts, and 'll just knock the Spunk
into an apple dumplin';' but she didn't! Well, the skipper and his
dandy officers came on board, looking all so shined up, and vented
their indignant feelins' by takin' it all out in a shower of cussin'
that would 'a made yer hair stand on end straight. In a few minutes
more, a feller in a monkey jacket, a brass button on his hat, and
otherwise officially costumed, put on the dignity of the quarter-deck,
and out-talked the skipper. 'Now, why the devil didn't you come to
when you saw our signal?' says he, with a face of daggers, and looking
at Pluck as if he was goin' to spring the main-mast with his teeth.
'Hand up yer papers here--quick, bear a hand! Take off yer hatches,
too; you've been fishing inside of the _line_,' he grumbled out, as
quickly as you'd overhaul a chain cable.
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