It was told me by Gavin McNab, bos'n of the Starry Grace at the
time, himself an Island McGill man.
"Wull do I remember ut," he said. "We was runnin' our Eastun'
down, an' makun' heavy weather of ut. Oz fine a sailor-mon oz ever
walked was Samuel Henan. I remember the look of hum wull thot last
marnun', a-watch-un' them bug seas curlun' up astern, an' a-
watchun' the old girl an' seeun' how she took them--the skupper
down below an' drunkun' for days. Ut was ot seven thot Henan
brought her up on tull the wund, not darun' tull run longer on thot
fearful sea. Ot eight, after havun' breakfast, he turns un, an' a
half hour after up comes the skupper, bleary-eyed an' shaky an'
holdun' on tull the companion. Ut was fair smokun', I om tellun'
ye, an' there he stood, blunkun' an' noddun' an' talkun' tull
humsel'. 'Keep off,' says he ot last tull the mon ot the wheel.
'My God!' says the second mate, standun' beside hum. The skupper
never looks tull hum ot all, but keeps on mutterun" an' jabberun'
tull humsel'. All of a suddent-like he straightens up an' throws
hus head back, an' says: 'Put your wheel over, me mon--now domn
ye! Are ye deef thot ye'll no be hearun' me?'
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