"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. This beats the
circus any day," said Dan. "Jest look at 'em!"

"Come in - come in!" roared Long Jack. "It's wet out yondher,
children."

"Forty-two, ye said." This was Uncle Salters.

"I'll count again, then," the voice replied meekly.

The two dories swung together and bunted into the schooner's side.

"Patience o' Jerusalem! "snapped Uncle Salters, backing water with