How was it all?
Don't stand, sit right down there on the transom.

I'm a democratic sort of sea-king.
Plump on the woolsack, I say, and spin the yarn.

But hold; you want some grog first." As Paul handed the flagon, Israel's eye fell upon his hand.
"You don't wear any rings now, Captain, I see.

Left them in Paris for safety." "Aye, with a certain marchioness there," replied Paul, with a dandyish look of sentimental conceit, which sat strangely enough on his otherwise grim and Fejee air.
"I should think rings would be somewhat inconvenient at sea," resumed Israel.

"On my first voyage to the West Indies, I wore a girl's ring on my middle finger here, and it wasn't long before, what with hauling wet ropes, and what not, it got a kind of grown down into the flesh, and pained me very bad, let me tell you, it hugged the finger so." "And did the girl grow as close to your heart, lad ?" "Ah, Captain, girls grow themselves off quicker than we grow them on." "Some experience with the countesses as well as myself, eh?
But the story; wave your yellow mane, my lion--the story." So Israel went on and told the story in all particulars.
At its conclusion Captain Paul eyed him very earnestly.