"'Ay, zur?' says the cook.

"'Cook,' says the skipper, 'you ought t' get married.'

"'I on'y wisht I could,' says the cook.

"'You ought t' try, cook,' says the skipper, 'for the sake o' the crew.
We'll all die,' says he, 'afore we sights of Bully Dick agin,' says he,
'if you keeps on burnin' the water. You _got_ t' get married, cook, t'
the first likely maid you sees on the Labrador,' says he, 't' save the
crew. She'd do the cookin' for you. It 'll be the loss o' all hands,'
says he, 'an you don't, This here burned water,' says he, 'will be the
end of us, cook, an you keeps it up.'

"'I'd be wonderful glad t' 'blige you, skipper,' says the cook, 'an' I'd
like t' 'blige all hands. 'Twon't be by my wish,' says he, 'that
anybody'll die o' the grub they gets.'

"'Cook,' says the skipper, 'shake! I knows a _man_,' says he, 'when I
sees one. Any man,' says he, 'that would put on the irons o' matrimony,'
says he, 't' 'blige a shipmate,' says he, 'is a better man 'n me, an' I
loves un like a brother.'

"Which cheered the cook up considerable.

"'Cook,' says the skipper, 'I 'pologize. Yes, I do, cook,' says he, 'I
'pologize.'

"'I isn't got no feelin' agin' matrimony,' says the cook. 'But I isn't
able t' get took. I been tryin' every maid t' Thunder Arm,' says he,