"'Well, my lads,' said Tom, a regular sample of the man-o'-war's-man, 'this is what I calls balling it off. That mate knows how to make her go, anyhow.' 'We'll soon be into tropical regents, I consider,' remarked Bill, who made a point of never using sea-phrases except ashore, when he came out double salt, to make up for his gentility afloat. 'Hum,' grumbled a big ugly fellow, the same so flattered at the wheel by little Tommy, 'I doesn't like your fair winds. I'll tell you what, mates, we'll be havin' it puff more from east'ard ere third watch.' 'What's the odds, Harry, old ship?' said Tom, 'a fair wind still.' 'I say, my lads,' exclaimed Tom again, looking along toward the poop, 'yonder's the ould naboob squinting out of the round-house doors!--what's he after now, I wonder?'
"On stooping down, accordingly, I could see the judge's face with the binnacle light shining on it, as he swayed to and fro in the doorway, seemingly in a passion at something or other. 'Why,' said Bill, 'I consider he can't altogether circumstand the shindy as this here roll kicks up inside of his blessed paliss.' 'Nabob, does ye call him,' said Harry, sulkily; 'I'll tell you what, mates, he ben't nothin' but a reg'lar ould tyrant. T'other mornin' there, I just chances to brush against him as I kiles up a rope; says he, "_Fellow_" an' says he to the skipper, "I'd take it kind," says he, "if ye'd horder them common sailors for to pay more contention alongside o' _my_ legs, Captain Williamson." Why, do the old beggar not think as a feller ben't a _man_ as well as hisself, with his _comming sailors_, an' be blowed to him.' 'Well, though, Harry, old ship,' said Tom, 'ain't that daurter of his'n a jewel! I say, mates, she's all rounded into the head, and a clear run from aft, like a corvette model. My eye, that hair of hers is worth gold; I'd go down on the deck to please her, d'ye see.' 'No doubt,' says Bill, 'she's what I call a exact sparkler.' 'Well, I doesn't know,' said Harry, 'last vy'ge but one we'd got one aboard, a'most beautifuller--half as high again, an' twice her beam--I'm not sure but _she_----' 'All my eye, messmates,' broke in Tom; 'that one were built for _stowing_, ye see, bo', like yer cargo lumpers. No, this here young gal 'minds me o' no other blessed thing but the _Nymph_ corvette's figure-head--and that warn't her match, neither. She don't look down upon a sailor, I can tell ye; there, I see her t'other morning-watch a-talkin' to Jacobs yonder, as pleasant and cheery as----Hullo, there's the captain comed out of the naboob's cabin, and speaking with the mate by the compass--blest if they ain't a-goin' to alter her course.'