occupation so dear to the maritime heart, to-wit: spinning yarns.
Dan Hicks had the floor, and was relating a tale that had to do
with his life as a freight and passenger skipper.

"We was makin' up to the dock when I see the general agent
standin' in the door o' the dock office--an' all of a sudden I
didn't feel so chipper about havin' crossed Humboldt bar in a
sou'easter. I saw the old man runnin' his eye along forty foot o'
twisted pipe railin', a wrecked bridge, three bent stanchions an'
every door an' window on the starboard side o' the ship stove in,
while the passengers crowded the rail lookin' cold an' miserable,
pea-green an' thankful. No need for me to do any explainin'. He
knew. He throws his dead fish eye up to me on what's left o' the
bridge an' I felt my job was vacant.

"'We was hit by a sea or two on Humboldt bar, sir,' I says, as if
gettin' hit by a sea or two an' havin' the ship gutted was an
every-day experience."

"'Is that so, Hicks?' says he sweetly. 'Well, now, if you hadn't
told me that I'd ha' jumped to the conclusion that a couple o'
the mess boys had got fightin' an' wrecked the ship before you
could separate 'em. Why in this an' that,' he says, 'didn't you
stick inside when any dumb fool could see the bar was breakin'?'

"'I wanted to keep the comp'ny's sailin' schedule unbroken, sir,'
I says, tryin' to be funny.

"'Well, Captain,' he says, 'it 'pears to me you've broken damned
near everything else tryin' to do it.'