Then it comes out as there is a New Bedford whaler about to start for the fishin' grounds, an' jest one able-bodied sailor like me is wanted to make up the crew.

Would I go?
Yes, I wouldn't on no terms.
"'I'll bet you fifty dollars,' sez he, 'that you'll come back fust mate.' "'I'll bet you a hundred,' sez I, 'that I don't, for I've signed papers as keeps me ashore, an' the parson has witnessed the deed.' "So we sat there, he urgin' me to ship, an' I chaffin' him cheerful over the bottle.
"Arter a while I begun to feel a little queer; things got foggy in my upper works, an' I remembers, faint-like, of signin' a paper; then I remembers bein' in a small boat; an' then I remembers nothin' until I heard the mate's whistle pipin' all hands on deck.

I tumbled up with the rest; an' there I was--on board of a whaler outward bound for a three years' cruise, an' my dear little lass ashore awaitin' for me." "Miserable wretch!" said Miss Abigail, in a voice that vibrated among the tin platters on the dresser.

This was Miss Abigail's way of testifying her sympathy.
"Thankee, marm," returned Sailor Ben, doubtfully.
"No talking to the man at the wheel," cried the Captain.

Upon which we all laughed.