"Hy da!" suddenly shouted the aged Jericho, looking up. "You da, Biler? You jis come down heah an' help me fotch along dese yar tings. Ef you ain't got notin' to do, Ise precious soon find you lots ob tings. Hurry down, da; make haste; relse I'll pitch some hot water up at you. I can't be boddered wid dese yer pots an' pans any longer, cos Ise got de dinna to meditate 'bout."
With these words Jericho stood up, regarding Biler with an appearance of grave dignity, which would have overawed even a less solemn lad than this. Biler did not refuse obedience, but thrusting a few fragments of dried codfish into his mouth, heaved a sigh, gave another dejected look at surrounding space, and then slowly and mournfully descended to the lower world.
The priest was seated on a water-cask, reading his Breviary, while Zac stood not far off, looking thoughtfully over the vessel's side. Terry was at the tiller, not because there was any steering to be done, but because he thought it would be as well for every one to be at his post in the event of a change of wind. He had whistled "St. Patrick's Day in the Morning," and was about beginning another interminable strain of the same kind. Claude was lounging about, and gradually drew nearer to the meditative Zac, whom he accosted.
"Well, we don't appear to be making much progress--do we?" said he.
"No," said he; "I must say, I don't like this here one mite. 'Tain't quite right. Seems kin' o' unlucky."
"Wal, fust and foremost, ef it hadn't been you, you'd never a' got me to pint the Parson's nose for that French hole, Louisbourg."
"Why not?" asked Claude, in some surprise; "you don't suppose that there's any danger--do you?"
"Wal, it's a risky business--no doubt o' that thar. You see, my 'pinion is this, that Moosoo's my nat'ral born enemy, an' so I don't like to put myself into his power."
"O, there's no danger," said Claude, cheerily. "There's peace now, you know--as yet."
"No," said he, "that ain't so. There ain't never real peace out here. There's on'y a kin' o' partial peace in the old country. Out here, we fight, an' we've got to go on fightin', till one or the other goes down. An' as to peace, 'tain't goin' to last long, even in the old country, 'cordin' to all accounts. There's fightin' already off in Germany, or somewhars, they say."