indulgence. "Well, Zing Turner has ben sailin' round here an'—elsewhere,"—the captain waved generously towards the world,—"sailin' round for over twenty year, an' he don't know a landmark yet 'cept Hood's Folly Light, and that's because his uncle kep' it all his life. I says to him one mornin' 'fore daylight, 'Where's she layin', Zing?' an' says he, 'I-god, I dunno, cap'n, guess we 're off the Oak Bay River.' We was just passing L'Etang!"
His listeners laughed, slowly, incredulously.
"He don't so much as know their names yet," Captain Christy went on. "But for all that"—
The hollow bumping of an oar, and a hail from alongside, stopped the defense of Zwinglius.
"On deck, Rapscull'on!" croaked a hoarse voice. "Finnan haddies, all ready for the butter! Lobsters, praise the Lord, that 'll put hair on yer chest and joy in yer soul! Cap'n-Christy-God-bless-ye-brother-how-de-do?—Fresh clams, baked yisterday and dug to-morrer!—Ahoy!"
