world. But the ship’s a good ship, and the lad’s a good lad; and it ain’t easy, thank the Lord," the Captain made a little bow, "to break up hearts of oak, whether they ’re in brigs or buzzums. Here we have 'em both ways, which is bringing it up with a round turn, and so I ain’t a bit afeard as yet."
"As yet?" repeated Florence.
"Not a bit," returned the Captain, kissing his iron hand; "and afore I begin to be, my Hearts-delight, Wal’r will have wrote home from the island, or from some port or another, and made all taut and ship-shape. And with regard to old Sol Gills," here the Captain became solemn, "who I ’ll stand by, and not desert until death do us part, and when the stormy winds do blow, do blow, do blow—overhaul the Catechism," said the Captain parenthetically, "and there you ’ll find them expressions—if it would console Sol Gills to have the opinion of a seafaring man as has got a mind equal to any undertaking that he puts it alongside of, and as was all but smashed in his 'prenticeship, and of which the name is Bunsby, that 'ere man shall give him such an opinion in his own parlour as ’ll stun him. Ah!" said Captain Cuttle, vauntingly, "as much as if he’d gone and knocked his head again a door!'
"Let us take this gentleman to see him, and let us hear what he says," cried Florence. "Will you go with us now? We have a coach here."
Again the Captain clapped his hand to his head, on which the hard glazed hat was not, and looked discomfited. But at this instant a most remarkable phenomenon occurred. The door opening, without any note of preparation, and apparently of itself, the hard glazed hat in question skimmed into the room like a bird, and alighted heavily at the Captain’s feet. The door then shut as violently as it had opened, and nothing ensued in explanation of the prodigy.
Captain Cuttle picked up his hat, and having turned it over with a look of interest and welcome, began to polish it on his sleeve. While doing so, the Captain eyed his visitors intently, and said in a low voice:
"You see I should have bore down on Sol Gills yesterday, and this morning, but she—she took it away and kept it. That’s the long and short of the subject."
"Who did, for goodness sake?" asked Susan Nipper.
"The lady of the house, my dear," returned the Captain, in a gruff whisper, and making signals of secrecy. "We had some words about the swabbing of these here planks, and she—in short," said the Captain, eyeing the door, and relieving himself with a long breath, "she stopped my liberty."
"Oh! I wish she had me to deal with!" said Susan, reddening with the energy of the wish. "I’d stop her!"
"Would you, do you, my dear?" rejoined the Captain, shaking his head doubtfully, but regarding the desperate courage of the fair aspirant with obvious admiration. "I don’t know. It’s difficult navigation. She’s very hard to carry on with, my dear. You never can tell how she ’ll head, you see. She’s full one minute, and round upon you next. And when she in a tartar," said the Captain, with the perspiration breaking out upon his forehead—. There was nothing but a whistle emphatic enough for the conclusion of the sentence, so the Captain
