One's fisher-fashion--any end first an' a slippery hitch over all--an' the other's--" "What we did on the old Ohio!" Dan interrupted, brushing into the knot of men with a long board on legs.

"Git out o' here, Tom Platt, an' leave me fix the tables." He jammed one end of the board into two nicks in the bulwarks, kicked out the leg, and ducked just in time to avoid a swinging blow from the man-o'-war's man.
"An' they did that on the Ohio, too, Danny.

See ?" said Tom Platt, laughing.
"'Guess they was swivel-eyed, then, fer it didn't git home, and I know who'll find his boots on the main-truck ef he don't leave us alone.
Haul ahead! I'm busy, can't ye see ?" "Danny, ye lie on the cable an' sleep all day," said Long Jack.

"You're the hoight av impidence, an' I'm persuaded ye'll corrupt our supercargo in a week." "His name's Harvey," said Dan, waving two strangely shaped knives, "an' he'll be worth five of any Sou' Boston clam-digger 'fore long." He laid the knives tastefully on the table, cocked his head on one side, and admired the effect.
"I think it's forty-two," said a small voice over-side, and there was a roar of laughter as another voice answered, "Then my luck's turned fer onct, 'caze I'm forty-five, though I be stung outer all shape." "Forty-two or forty-five.

I've lost count," the small voice said.
"It's Penn an' Uncle Salters caountin' catch.