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Updated: June 2, 2025
Ain't you heard about the fortune tellin' and how 'twas foretold she'd marry a Butler? "I'd heard, but I didn't s'pose he had. However, it seemed that Effie hadn't been able to keep it to herself no longer. Soon as she'd hooked her man she'd blabbed the whole thing. The fo'mast hands wa'n't talkin' of nothin' else, so this feller said.
And why is he so quiet?" "I give up both riddles, Al. He's the only one's got the answers and when he gets ready enough maybe he'll tell 'em. Until then it'll pay us fo'mast hands to make believe we're busy, even if we ain't. Hear that, do you, Is?" "Hear what?" demanded Issachar, who was gazing out of the window, his hands in his pockets.
I noticed you didn't stop her tyin' it on you even while you was vowin' you wouldn't wear it." Shadrach sighed. "To think," he groaned, "that I, Cap'n Shad Gould, a man that's handled as many fo'mast hands as I have, should come to be led around by the nose by a slip of a girl! By fire, I I can't hardly believe it. It's disgraceful." Zoeth smiled. "Oh, be still, Shadrach," he said.
"It 'll be kind of ca'm for a spell," replied Captain Eri, "but I wouldn't wonder if we had some wind 'fore night. Here you, fo'mast hand," he added, turning to Josiah, "stand by to git the canvas on her." The mainsail was soon hoisted, and the catboat moved slowly out of the bay. "Gee! it's dark," exclaimed Josiah, "what are you goin' way off here for? Why don't you go straight out?"
The captain turned to Ralph, who could now trace little resemblance in his superior's face and mien to the bland, almost fatherly man who had welcomed him at the Marshall House. "My lad," said Gary, and his voice grated harshly on the ear, "I don't think the deck agrees with you. Suppose you try the fo'mast head for an hour. Come! Up you go!"
You look out for them tops'ls. "So Nat grabs the wheel and 'Bije tears for'ard and sends the two fo'mast hands aloft on the jump. Zach was skipper, but all he done was race around and holler and trip over his own feet. Oh, he's a prize sailor, he is! Don't talk to me about them Fosters! "Nobody is talkin' about 'em but you, Zeb," observed Keziah drily. "Go on. How about the squall?"
Don't forget you're a fo'mast hand yet awhile and the way for a fo'mast hand to get ahead is to obey orders. And don't," he added, with a quiet chuckle, "do any play-actin' or poetry-makin' when it's your watch on deck. Laban nor I ain't very strong for play-actin', are we, Labe?" Laban, to whom the reference was anything but clear, replied rather vaguely that he didn't know as he was, very.
Don't get him too good, though; that wouldn't be natural. And don't get him too bad, neither. I know it's the fashion, judgin' by the sea yarns I've read lately, to have a Yankee skipper sort of a cross between a prize fighter and a murderer. Fust day out of port he begins by pickin' out the most sickly fo'mast hand aboard, mashes him up, and then takes the next invalid.
First there was the band, four fellers tooting and banging like fo'mast hands on a fishing smack in a fog. Then there was a big darky toting a banner with "Jenkins' Unparalleled Double Uncle Tom's Cabin Company, No. 2," on it in big letters. Behind him was a boy leading two great, savage looking dogs bloodhounds, I found out afterwards by chains.
"Excuse me, commodore," he said; "I don't like to break in until you've settled whether you have it snow or not, but I'm here to see Congressman Everdean. Hadn't you better order one of your fo'mast hands to hunt him up?" The judge condescended to smile, as did several other men who stood near. The clerk reddened. "Do you want to see Mr. Everdean?" he snapped. "Why, yes, I did.
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