would not, as suited him.

Uncle Abimelech was tall and old, and had a long white beard, and
was thin in the legs, not to say uncertain on them, and he appeared
to wander in his mind as well as in his legs. Stevey Todd was stout,
with a smooth, fair face, and in temperament fond of arguing, though
cautious about it. For that winter afternoon, when I remarked,
hearing the whistling wind and the thunder of the surf, "It blows
hard, Mr. Todd," Stevey Todd answered cautiously, "If you called it
brisk, I wouldn't maybe argue it, but 'hard' I'd argue," and
Pemberton said agreeably, "Why, when you put it that way, you're
right, not but the meaning was good, ain't a doubt of it;" and Uncle
Abimelech, getting hold of a loose end in his mind, piped up, singing:

"She blows aloft, she blows alow,
Take in your topsails early;"

whereas there was no doubt at all about its blowing hard. But Stevey
Todd was the kind of a man that liked to argue in good order.

The meanwhile Captain Buckingham had said nothing so far that
afternoon, except on the subject of hotel-keeping in South America.
But when Stevey Todd offered to admit that it blew "brisk, but when
you say hard, I argue it;" and when Uncle Abimelech piped:

"She blows aloft, she blows alow,
Take in your topsails early;"

Then Captain Buckingham, who sat leaning forward smoking, with his
elbows on his knees, staring at the fire, at last, without stirring