Stubbard, did you ever see such a scrawl?
Make it out for me.

You have good eyes, like a hawk, or the man who saw through a milestone.

Scudamore, what was his name?
You know." "Three fingers at five pounds apiece per annum as long as he lives!" Captain Stubbard computed on his own: "fifteen pounds a year perhaps for forty years, as you seem to say how young he is; that comes to just 600 pounds, and his hand as good as ever"-- ("I'll be hanged if it is, if he wrote this!" the Admiral interjected)--"and better, I must say, from a selfish point of view, because of only two nails left to clean, and his other hand increased in value; why, the scale is disgraceful, iniquitous, boobyish, and made without any knowledge of the human frame, and the comparative value of its members.

Lieutenant Scudamore, look at me.

Here you see me without an ear, damaged in the fore-hatch, and with the larboard bow stove in--and how much do I get, though so much older ?" "Well, if you won't help me, Stubbard," said the Admiral, who knew how long his friend would carry on upon that tack, "I must even get Scudamore to read it, though it seems to have been written on purpose to elude him.