After looking me in the eye for some time, and, by so doing, revealing
an obvious unsteadiness in his own visual organs, he begged me to
reach forth my arm. I did so; wondering what upon earth that useful
member had to do with the matter in hand.
He placed his fingers upon my wrist; and holding them there for a
moment, sprang to his feet, and, with much enthusiasm, pronounced me
a Yankee, every beat of my pulse!
"Here, Mai-Mai!" he cried, "another bottle!" And, when it came, with
one stroke of a knife, he summarily beheaded it, and commanded me to
drain it to the bottom. He then told me that if I would come on board
his vessel the following morning, I would find the ship's articles on
the cabin transom.
This was getting along famously. But what was to become of the
doctor?
I forthwith made an adroit allusion to my long friend. But it was
worse than useless. The Vineyarder swore he would have nothing to do
with him - he (my long friend) was a "bird" from Sydney, and nothing
would make him (the man of little faith) believe otherwise.
I could not help loving the free-hearted captain; but indignant at
this most unaccountable prejudice against my comrade, I abruptly took
leave.
Upon informing the doctor of the result of the interview, he was
greatly amused; and laughingly declared that the Vineyarder must be a
penetrating fellow.
