"Yes," says the devil, when he got on deck again, "I don't deny it, Cap'n. That's one to you."
"Now, Mr. Devil," said the old man, going towards the rail, "suppose you was to step into that little boat alongside there. Will you please?"
"Ay, ay, sir," he said, and he slid down the forrard fall, got into the stem sheets, and sat down.
"Now, Mr. Devil," said the skipper, taking a little salt spoon from his vest pocket, "supposin' you bail all the water on that side the boat on to this side the boat, using this spoon as your dipper."
Well!—the devil just looked at him.
"Say!" he said at length, "which of the New England States d'ye hail from anyway?"
"Not Jersey, anyway," said the old man. "That's two up, alright; ain't it, sonny?"
"Yes," growls the devil, as he climbs aboard. "That's two up. Two to you and one to play. Now, what's your next contraption?"
"Mr. Devil," said the old man, looking very innocent, "you see, I've ranged my chain ready for letting go anchor. Now Chips is forrard there, and when I sing out, he'll let the anchor go. Supposin' you stopper the chain with them big hands o' yourn and keep it from running out clear. Will you, please?"
So the devil takes off his coat and rubs his hands together, and gets away forrard by the bitts, and stands by.
"All ready, Cap'n," he says.
"All ready. Chips?" asked the old man.
"All ready, sir," replies Chips.
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