The ship won't stand it, I tell you.

She's leaking already.

You need all that canvas down, and only your jibs and foresails; and even then you must let her run." Captain Keogh turned upon him with a torrent of abuse.
"Saints help us! Am I the captain of this ship, or are you, you long- jawed, squint-eyed, whining son of a wood-chopper you?
First it's a French stowaway wants to tell me my business, then it's you.

Why doesn't the cabin-boy come up and take charge of the ship?
Way there take in the courses, and let the helm go.

Give the fool what he wants, and give me a dram for luck." All that day we flew through the water in front of as fierce a south- wester as I was ever out in.