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“‘Shadders!’ says Andy. ‘That ain’t me. I leave that sort of thing fur Tom Simmons.’

“‘Shadders is cool,’ says I, ‘an’ I kin go to sleep under all he throws.’

“Well, sir,” continued old Silas, putting his hand on the tiller and turning his face seaward, “if Tom Simmons had kept command of that wreck, we all would ‘a’ laid there an’ waited an’ waited till some of us was starved, an’ the others got nothin’ fur it, fur the cap’n never mended his engine, an’ it wasn’t more’n a
week afore we was took off, an’ then it was by a sailin’ vessel, which left the hull of the Water Crescent behind her, just as she would ‘a’ had to leave the Mary Auguster if that jolly old Christmas wreck had been there.

“An’ now, sir,” said Silas, “d’ye see that stretch o’ little ripples over yander, lookin’ as if it was a lot o’ herrin’ turnin’ over to dry their sides?Do you know what that is? That’s the supper wind. That means coffee, an’ hot cakes, an’ a bit of br’iled fish, an’ pertaters, an’ p’r’aps, if the old woman feels in a partiklar good humor, some canned peaches–big white uns, cut in half, with a holler place in the middle filled with cool, sweet juice.”